emony as a dead dog; but, as this procedure took place in the night, very few were informed of the fate of the body. An eye witness assured me that the coffin no longer existed in the vault where it was originally placed; and the verger was actually proceeding to point out the place were the body was abandoned, when the bishop himself happened to arrive, took away my guide, and, with menaces which were but too likely to be fulfilled, prevented our being more fully informed concerning the obloquy which at present involves the remains of Potemkin. Let me now, therefore, direct the reader's attention to a more interesting subject; to a narrative of the last days, the death, and bu rial of the benevolent Howard; who, with a character forcibly opposed to that of Potemkin, also terminated a glorious career at Cherson. Mysterious Providence, by events always remote from human foresight, had wonderfully destined, that these two men, celebrated in their lives by the most contrasted deeds, should be interred nearly upon the same spot. It is not within the reach of possibility to bring together, side by side, two individuals more remarkably characterized by every opposite qualification; as if the hand of destiny had directed two persons, in whom were exemplified the extremes of vice and virtue, to one common spot, in order that the contrast might remain a lesson for mankind. Potemkin, bloated and pampered by every vice, after a path through life stained with blood and crimes, at last the victim of his own selfish excesses: Howard, a voluntary exile,

enduring the severest privation for the benefit of his fellow creatures, and laboring, even to his latest breath, in the exercise of every social virtue.

The particulars of Mr. Howard's death were communicated to me by his two friends, admiral Mordvinof, then chief admiral of the Black Sea fleet, and admiral Priestman, an English officer in the Russian service, both of whom were eye witnesses of his last moments. He had been entreated to visit a lady about twenty-four miles from Cherson, who was dangerously ill. Mr. Howard objected, alleging that he acted only as physician to the poor; but hearing of her imminent danger, he afterwards yielded to the persuasion of admiral Mordvinof, and went to see her. After having prescribed that which he deemed proper to be administered, he returned, leaving directions with her family, to send for him again if she got better; but adding, that if, as he much feared, she should prove worse, it would be to no purpose. Some time after his return to Cherson, a letter arrived, stating that the lady was better, and begging that he would come without loss of time. When he examined the date, he perceived that the letter by some unaccountable delay, had been eight days in get ting to his hands. Upon this, he resolved to go with all possible expedition. The weather was extremely tempestuous and very cold, it being late in the year, and the rain fell in torrents. In his impatience to set out, a conveyance not being immediately ready, he mounted an old dray horse, used in admiral

Mordvinof's family to carry water, and thus proceeded to visit his patient. Upon his arrival, he found the lady dying; this, added to the fatigue of the journey, affected him so much, that it brought on a fever; his clothes, at the same time, had been wet through; but he attributed his fever entirely to another cause. Having administered something to his patient to excite perspiration, as soon as the symptoms of it appeared, he put his hands beneath the bed clothes to feel her pulse, that she might not be chilled by removing them, and believed that her fever was thus communicated to him. After this painful journey Mr. Howard returned to Cherson, and the lady died.

It had been almost his daily eustom at a certain hour, to visit admiral Priestman; when, with his usual attention to regularity, he would place his watch on the table, and pass exactly an hour with him in conversation. The admiral finding that he failed in his usual visits, went to see him, and found him weak and ill, sitting before a stove in his bed room. Having inquired after his health, Mr. Howard replied, that his end was approaching very fast; that he had several things to say to his friend, and thanked him for having called. The admiral finding him in such a melancholy mood,endeavored to turn the conversation, imagining the whole might be merely the result of low spirits; but Mr. How ard soon assured him it was otherwise; and added: "Priestman, you style this a very dull conversation, and endeavor to divert my mind from dwelling up

on death; but I entertain very different sentiments. Death has no terrors for me: it is an event I always look to with cheerfulness, if not with pleasure; and be assured, the subject of it is to me more grateful than any other. I am well aware I have but a short time to lives my mode of life has rendered it impossible that I should get rid of this fever. If I had lived as you do, eating heartily of animal food, and drinking wine, I might, pernaps by diminishing my diet, be able to subdue it. But how can such a man as I am lower his diet, who has been accustomed for years to exist on vegetables and water, a little bread and a little tea? I have no method of lowering my nourishment, and therefore I must die. It is such jolly fellows as you, Priestman, who get over these fevers." Then, turning the subject, he spoke of his funeral: and cheerfully gave directions concerning the manner in which he would be buried. "There is a spot," said he "near the village of Dauphigny, which would suit me nicely: you know it well, for I have often said I should like to be buried there; and let me beg of you, as you value your old friend, not to suffer any pomp to be used at my funeral; nor any monument or monumental inscription whatsoever, to mark where I am laid; but lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun dial over my grave, and let me be for gotten.' Having given these directions; he was very earnest in soliciting that admiral Priestman would lose no time in securing the object of his wishes; but go immediately and settle with the

owner of the land for the place of his interment, and prepare every thing for his burial.

The admiral left him upon his melancholy errand, fearing at the same time, as he himself in formed me, that the people would believe him crazy, to solicit a burying ground for a man who was then living, and whom no person yet knew to be indisposed. However, he accomplished Mr. Howard's wishes, and returned to him with the intelligence: at this his countenance brightened, a gleam of evident satisfaction came over his face, and he prepared to go to bed. Soon after, he made his will, leaving as his executor a trusty follower, who had lived with him more in the capacity of a friend than of a servant, and whom he charged with the commission of bearing his will to England. It was not until after he had finished his will, that any symptoms of delirium appeared. Admiral Priestman, who had left him for a short time, returned and found him sitting up in his bed, adding what he believed to be a codicil to his will; but this consisted of several unconnected words, the chief part of which were illegible, and all without any meaning. This strange composition he desired admiral Priestman to witness and sign; and, in order to please him, the admiral consented; but wrote his name as he bluntly said, in Russian characters, lest any of his friends in England, reading his signature to such a codicil, should think he was also delirious. After Mr. Howard had made what he conceived to be an addition to his will, he became more com

posed. A letter was brought to him from England, containing intelligence of the improved state of his son's health; stating the manner in which he passed his time in the country, and giving great reason to hope that he would recover from the disorder with which he was afflicted.* His servant read this letter aloud; and, when he had concluded, Mr. Howard turned his head towards him, saying: "Is not this comfort for a dying father?"

They had in vain besought him to allow a physician to be sent for; but admiral Mordvinof renewing this solicitation with great earnestness, Mr. Howard assented by nodding his head. The physician came, but was too late to be of any service. A rattling in the throat had commenced; and the physician administered what is called the Musk draught, a medicine used only in Russia, in the last extremity. It was given to the patient by admiral Mordvinof, who prevailed on him to swallow a little; but he endeavored to avoid the rest, and gave evident signs of disapprobation. He was then entirely given over; and shortly after breathed his last.

THE SABBATH.

BISHOP Andrews observes, that "To keep the Sabbath in an idle manner, is the Sabbath of oxen and asses; to keep it in a jovial manner, to see plays and sights,

Mr. Howard's son labored under an attack of insanity,

to be at cards and entertainments, is the Sabbath of the golden calf; but to keep it in surfeiting and

drunkenness, in chambering and wantonness, this is the Sabbath of Satan, the devil's holy day."

XXIII. Miss More's Practical Piety.

(Concluded from p. 174.)

THE chapter on self-examination, with which the second volume opens, is in general excellent; as is, also, the succeeding one on self-love. The author possesses, in a very extraordinary degree, the faculty of detecting the many deceits which even religious persons practise on themselves, and of pursuing vanity and pride into all their thousand lurking-holes. She has such an acquaintance with the human heart as could have been acquired only by long and scrutinizing self-observation, and by the strictest attention to the nature and tendency of the most secret motives. Happy would it be for the Christian world, were she imitated in these traits of character by all her admirers.

That ignorance of our own characters, with which we are so strongly inclined to be content ed, is forcibly described in the · following paragraph:

"Is it not strange that though we love ourselves so much better than we love any other person, yet there is hardly one, however little we value him, that we had not rather be alone with, that we had not rather converse with, that we had not rather come to close quarters with, than ourselves? Scarcely one whose private history, whose thoughts, feelings, actions, and motives we had not rather pry into than our own? Do we not use every art and contrivance to

avoid getting at the truth of our own character? Do we not endeavor to keep ourselves ignorant of what every one else knows respecting our faults, and do we not account that man our enemy, who takes on himself the best office of a friend, that of opening to us our real state and condition?" vol. ii, pp. 44, 45.

This universal backwardness with respect to acquiring a just knowledge of our own characters, a subject of more interest to us than all other subjects united, is ominous that things are not as they should be in our hearts. If such a knowledge gave us pleasure, we should be fond of acquiring it; and it would give us pleasure, if all our desires were pure, and all our affections holy.

The great antidote to self-love is thus described:

"The great, the only effectual anti dote to self-love is to get the love of God and of our neighbor firmly rooted in the heart. Yet let us ever bear in mind that dependence on our fellow creatures is as carefully to be avoid. ed as love of them is to be cultivated. There is none but God on whom the principles of love and dependence form but one duty." p. 50.

In the chapter on the conduct of Christians in their intercourse with the irreligious, the struggle of a good man for his reputation, and his surrender of it, rather than violate his conscience, are well delineated. It is perhaps harder to persuade a man to nail