But, it may be asked, where will the poor, patient, docile, innocent horse, who was tortured to a lingering death by civilized man-where will he meet a recompense, as nothing but cruelty and hunger was his portion in this world? To answer this interrogation, I must beg leave to transcribe a quotation from my " Flowers of Literature," page 342, third edition.

"God in the plenitude of his goodness, has accommodated us with a paradise to dwell in, carpetted with beauteous flowers beneath, and studded with silver stars above us; but we have metamorphosed it to a slaughter-house. Millions of the human race, especially young children, and billions of the brutal creation, are tortured and slaughtered every year. The view we have given of man's cruelty, in our historical compendium, when compared to what God views every day, is like comparing one to a thousand. But will he always suffer villany thus to prosper; the man who says yes, must be either a knave or a fool."

The sentiments of that learned and pious divine, the Rev. John Wesley, tally with my own, as expressed in my "Excellency of Virtue." I will take the liberty to transcribe a few of his thoughts.

"To descend to a few particulars. The whole brute creation will undoubtedly be restored, not only to the vigour, strength, and swiftness, which they had at their creation, but to a far higher degree of each than they ever enjoyed. They will be restored, not only to that measure of understanding which they had in paradise, but to a degree of it, as much higher than that, as the understanding of an elephant is beyond that of a worm. And whatever affections they had in the garden of God, will be restored with vast increase, being exalted and refined in a manner which we ourselves are not able to comprehend. The liberty they then had will be completely restored, and they will be free in all their motions."

Relative to the animal creation finding a sure recompense in their merciful Creator, for the unparalleled barbarity they, though innocent, useful, and docile, receive from the hands of cruel man. I might refer to the sentiments of the Pythagoreans, Platonists and Bramins, respecting transmigration, also to Bishop Butler, Dr. Hartley and Dr. Rush.

Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!

More pointed still we make ourselves,
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And man, whose heav'n-erected face,
The smiles of love adorn,
Man's inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn!

If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave,
By nature's law design'd,
Why was an independent wish
E'er planted in my mind?
If not, why am I subject to
His cruelty, or scorn?

Or why has man the will and pow'r
To make his fellow mourn?

I recollect seeing a compilation, entitled, "Biographical Account of eminent pious Women, who were a support and honour to the Christian Religion. But, on viewing the characters exhibited by the religious compiler, I found them all to be queens, dutchesses, countesses, ladies of honour, or ladies of wealth; the memoir of one poor pious woman was not among them. But this is only one instance in thousands, where even religion is used by interested men as a fan to kindle the pride of the sons of venality and daughters of grandeur from a spark to a flame, as if the tinsel of royalty, and the pride and pageantry of courts, were not sufficient to answer the deleterious purpose.

What did John the Baptist mean, when he commanded his hearers in the naine of the Lord, to bring forth fruit meet for repentance? Most assuredly restitution, as far as possible. Can I worship God acceptably, and hate my brother? Impossible. Can I truly repent before a heart-searching God, and not make restitution for injury done my fellow-traveller to the grave, in the same ratio as it was done, whether public or private? Impossible.

How pleasing must the sight be to God, and honourable to man, which the primitive church exhibited in the act of adoration! When we recollect the consistency of their mode of

worship and the reciprocal love of the worshippers, the amiable simplicity of their manners, equality of their domestic economy, the ample provision made for their poor, and the equilibrium they maintained as it respected power and riches, (indeed they had all things in common,) we are struck with admiration. The money that is squandered now in ornamenting places for worship, and supporting ministers in elegant idleness, was then given to support widows and orphans. Witness the Lord Bishop of Waterford, who receives about 80,000 dollars a year for reading a few sermons! Yet he can see, in the vicinity of his splendid domain, the poor perish for want, without common commiseration. Indeed, it is impossible for language to express the astonishing contrast between primitive and present Christianity, in principle and practice. When I read the excellent apostolic mode of social worship, and contrast it with our modern modes, I am truly amazed that all the people themselves do not see the extravagant absurdity and iniquity of the one, and the economical excellence and utility of the other.

"Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases the happiness of others, this is my criterion of goodness: and whatever injures society at large, or any individual in it-this is my measure of iniquity. What think you, madam, of my creed?" says the ingenious but unfortunate Scottish bard, Robert Burns.

Condorcet, in his life of Turgot says that "Turgot was too enlightened to expect that any thing but abuses could arise from any scheme of religion that makes the salvation of men depend upon their creed." This is called by some pious commentator a censure upon religion; and it is now thought proper by many clergymen even in this free country, where the constitution has placed all on an equal footing, to denounce those who differ from them in their religious creed, as doomed to everlasting punishment. I cannot find expressions strong enough to convey my opinion of the presumption and wickedness of such preachers. But I will give an extract from a letter of the great philosopher and benevolent friend of man, Dr. Franklin, to Mr. Whitefield. Speaking of the faith mentioned, he says: "But I wish it were more productive of good works, than I have generally seen it: I mean real good works; works of kindness, charity, mercy,

and public spirit; not holiday keeping, sermon reading or hearing; performing such ceremonies, or making long pray. ers filled with flatteries and compliments, despised even by wise men, and much less capable of pleasing the Deity. The worship of God is a duty; the hearing and reading of sermons may be useful; but if men rest in hearing and praying, as too many do, it is as if a tree should value itself by being watered, and putting forth leaves, though it produced no fruit.

"Your great master thought much less of these outward professions than many of his modern disciples. He preferred the doers of the word to the mere hearers: the heretical but charitable Samaritan, to the uncharitable though orthodox priest, and sanctified Levites, and those who gave food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, entertainment to the stranger and relief to the sick, though they never heard of his name, he declares shall in the last day be accepted, when those who cry Lord! Lord! who value themselves upon their faith, but have neglected good works, shall be neglected. He professed that he came not to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance, which implied his modest opinion, that there were some who were so good that they need not hear even him for improvement; but now-a-days we scarcely have a little parson who does not think it the duty of every man within his reach to sit under his petty ministrations; and whoever omits them, offends God. I wish to such more humility, and to you health and happiness."-Private correspondence of Franklin.

"The heart that bleeds for others woes,
Shall feel each selfish sorrow less;
The breast that happiness bestows,

Re-acted happiness shall bless."

The man who wants compassion, wants the distinguishing characteristic of his noble nature, and he has no more relish for the celestial pleasure of beneficence than a brute. The compassionate man will pity and relieve an insect, more suddenly and more sweetly, than the cruel man will his own blood relation, or his own legitimate offspring. Alas! why

is it that there is so little of this celestial virtue among the professed disciples of the compassionate Jesus? Where do we find one who sympathises, and melts at human wo?

Where do we find a compassionate Lady Guion, a benevolent Francis Xavier, who daily imitated their Saviour, by going about doing good to their unfortunate fellow mortals? In modern times, I must confess, I find very few blessed in any eminent degree with this amiable disposition; and few so much as the benificent Richard Reynolds, the philanthropist of Bristol.

Although I dislike extolling any mortal, however worthy, and whether dead or alive, yet the virtue of Richard Reynolds, was so pure in itself, so delicate in its administration, and is so scarce withal in this dark and selfish age, that I will describe his character from W. Thorp's address, delivered at a meeting of his fellow-citizens, convened for the purpose of forming a charitable institution to perpetuate his memory, and in some measure supply his loss; at which 4457. sterling, was contributed to aid the funds of the "Reynolds Commemoration Society."

"The benevolence of Richard Reynolds, was of the highest order. It was liberal, diffusive, universal-not narrowed by party prejudice, nor bounded by the limits of party connexions, it embraced the Family of Man-yea, the whole circle of living beings, endowed with a capacity of pleasure or of pain. In its contemplation of the vast, however, it did not overlook the minute; in its comprehension of the whole, it did not, like the modern philosophy, neglect the parts of which that whole is composed. Its operations were regula ted by the respective claims of nature, of gratitude, of friendship, of consanguinity, of religious connexions, of moral worth, and of various degrees of wretchedness amongst the unhappy objects upon whom his bounty was bestowed.

"Proceeding in the first instance, from compassion, it was afterwards purified by religious principle, and strengthened by a sense of his awful responsibility to the great Lord of All, for the talent with which he was entrusted. Compassion, improperly cultivated, degenerates into an useless sensibility. The pleasure that attends it, soothes and deceives the heart. An interesting account of human wretchedness excites its pleasurable symphathetic emotions: the tongue utters the law of kindness; the man exults in his own virtuous sensibility, and thus becomes the dupe of self-deception. But to enter the abodes of the wretched-to examine into debts, and