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inveighed against the methods of persecution as "Popish practices;" Penn censured no sect, but condemned bigotry of all sorts as inhuman. Locke, as an American lawgiver, dreaded a too numerous democracy, and reserved all power to wealth and the feudal proprietors; Penn believed that God is in every conscience, his light in every soul; and therefore, stretching out his arms, he built-such are his own words" a free colony for all mankind." This is the praise of William Penn, that, in an age which had seen a popular revolution shipwreck popular liberty among selfish factions; which had seen Hugh Peters and Henry Vane perish by the hangman's cord and the axe; in an age when Sydney nourished the pride of patriotism rather than the sentiment of philanthropy, when Russell stood for the liberties of his order, and not for new enfranchisements, when Harrington, and Shaftesbury, and Locke, thought government should rest on property,-Penn did not despair of humanity, and, though all history and experience denied the sovereignty of the people, dared to cherish the noble idea of man's capacity for self-government. Conscious that there was no room for its exercise in England, the pure enthusiast, like Calvin and Descartes, a voluntary exile, was come to the banks of the Delaware to institute "THE HOLY EXPERIMENT."

188. THE LION AND THE SPANIEL.

BROOKE.

[WE give the following extract from a strange and unequal work, little known in our times, but containing many things worth reading, entitled 'The Fool of Quality. The author, Henry Brooke, was the son of an Irish clergyman, and was born in 1706. His first poem, Universal Beauty,' received the encouragement of Pope and Swift. His tragedies of 'Gustavus Vasa' and the Earl of Essex,' long kept possession of the stage. The novel from which we quote was once highly popular, He died in 1783,]

In the afternoon our company went again to the Tower, to see as well as to hear the recent story of the great lion and the little dog,

They found the place thronged, and all were obliged to pay treble prices, on account of the unprecedented novelty of the show; so that the keeper, in a short space, acquired a little fortune.

The great cage in the front was occupied by a beast, who, by way of pre-eminence, was called the king's lion; and, while he traversed the limits of his straitened dominions, he was attended by a small and very beautiful black spaniel, who frisked and gambolled about him, and at times would pretend to snarl and bite at him; and again the noble animal, with an air of fond complaisance, would hold down his head, while the little creature licked his formidable chaps. Their history, as the keeper related, was this:

It was customary for all, who were unable or unwilling to pay their sixpence, to bring a dog or cat as an oblation to the beast in lieu of money to the keeper. Among others, a fellow had caught up this pretty black spaniel in the streets, and he was accordingly thrown into the cage of the great lion. Immediately the little animal trembled and shivered, and crouched, and threw itself on its back, and put forth its tongue, and held up its paws, in supplicatory attitudes, as an acknowledgment of superior power, and praying for mercy. In the mean time, the lordly brute, instead of devouring it, beheld it with an eye of philosophic inspection. He turned it over with one paw, and then turned it with the other; and smelled to it, i seemed desirous of courting a further acquaintance.

The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess of his own family-dinner; but Sion kept aloof, and refused to cat, keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him were to be his taster. At length, the little animal's fears being something d, and his appetito quickened by the smell of the victuals, he approached slowly,

and with trembling ventured to eat. The lion then advanced gently and began to partake, and they finished their meal very lovingly together.

From this day the strictest friendship commenced between them, a friendship consisting of all possible affection and tenderness on the part of the lion, and of the utmost confidence and boldness on the part of the dog; insomuch that he would lay himself down to sleep, within the fangs and under the jaws of his terrible patron. A gentleman who had lost the spaniel, and had advertised a reward of two guineas to the finder, at length heard of the adventure, and went to reclaim his dog. You see, sir, said the keeper, it would be a great pity to part such loving friends; however, if you insist upon your property, you must even be pleased to take him yourself; it is a task that I would not engage in for five hundred guineas. The gentleman rose into great wrath, but finally chose to acquiesce rather than have a personal dispute with the lion.

As Mr. Felton had a curiosity to see the two friends eat together, he sent for twenty pounds of beef, which was accordingly cut in pieces, and given intɔ the cage ; when immediately the little brute, whose appetite happened to be eager at the time, was desirous of making a monopoly of the whole, and putting his paws upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he audaciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature, instead of being offended with his impotent companion, started back, and seemed terrified at the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favourite had tacitly given permission.

When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose, but this his sportive companion would not admit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now scrape and tear at his head with his claws, and again seize him by the ear and bite and pull away; while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of pleasure and complacence.

But let us proceed to the tragic catastrophe of this extraordinary story: a story still known to many, as delivered down by tradition from father to son.

In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving patron the most desolate of creatures. For a time, the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that his favourite was asleep. He would continue to smell to him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw; but finding that all his efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop, and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard; and again lift his head on high, and open his horrible throat, and prolong a roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcase from him; he watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavoured to tempt him with variety of victuals, but he turned from all that was offered with loathing. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore piecemeal, but left their members on the floor. His passion being thus inflamed, he would dart his fangs into the boards, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of his cage, and seem enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces. Again, as quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws, and put him to his bosom; and then utter under roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow, the only friend, the only companion that he had upon earth.

For five days he thus languished, and gradually declined, without taking any sust nance, or admitting any comfort; till, one morning, he was found dead, with his head lovingly reclined on the carcase of his little friend. They were both interred

together, and their grave plentifully watered by the tears of the keeper, and his loudly lamenting family. But to return.

66

When our company were on their way from the Tower to their lodgings, "Sir," said Harry, “what we have just seen reminds me of the opinion of my friend Peter Patience, that one who is fearless cannot be provoked. You saw how that little teasing petulant wretch had the insolence to fly in the face of his benefactor, without offending or exciting in him any kind of resentment." True, Harry, for the lion was sensible that his testy companion was little and impotent, and depended upon him, and had confidence in his clemency, and therefore he loved him with all his faults. Anger, however, in some cases, is not only allowable, but becomes a duty. The Scripture says, Be angry, but sin not.' We ought to feel and fear for others; and lust, violence, and oppression of every sort, will excite the indignation of a generous and benevolent person, though he may not fear for himself."

After supper, Harry appeared to ruminate, and said, "How comes it, sir, that creatures not endued with reason or conscience, shall yet, in the affections that are peculiarly called humane, exceed even most of the human species? You have seen that it was the case between the lion and little dog."

"It was the opinion, my Harry, of an ancient philosopher, that God was the soul and spirit of brutes; and this he judged from observing, that what we call instinct was incomparably wiser, more sagacious, and more accomplishing for attaining its end, throughout its sphere of action, than the most perfect human reason. Now, had this philosopher, instead of saying that God was the soul of brutes, barely alleged that he ruled and dictated within them, he would not have gone a little wide of the truth. God, indeed, is himself the beauty and the benefit of all his works. As they cannot exist but in him and by him, so his impression is upon them, and his impregnation is through them.

"Though the elements, and all that we know of nature and creation, have a mixture of natural and physical evil, God is, however, throughout, an internal though often a hidden principle of good, and never wholly departs from his right of dominion and operation in his creatures; but is, and is alone, the beauty and beneficence, the whole glory and graciousness, that can possibly be in them.

"As the Apostle says, 'The invisible things of God are made manifest by the things that are seen.' He is the secret and central light that kindles up the sun, his dazzling representative; and he lives, enlightens, and comforts in the diffusion of his beams.

"His spirit inspires and actuates the air, and is in it a breath of life to all his creatures. He blooms in the blossom, and unfolds in the rose. He is fragrance in flowers, and flavour in fruits. He holds infinitude in the hollow of his hand, and opens his world of wonders to the minims of nature. He is the virtue of every heart that is softened by a sense of pity, or touch of benevolence. He coos in the turtle, and bleats in the lamb; and, through the paps of the stern bear, and implacable tigress, he yields forth the milk of loving-kindness to their little ones. Even, my Harry, when we hear the delicious enchantment of music, it is but an external sketch, a distant and faint echo of those sentimental and rapturous tunings that rise up, throughout the immensity of our God, from eternity to eternity.

"Thus all things are secretly pregnant with their God. And the Lover of sinners, the universal Redeemer, is a principle of good within them, that contends with the malignity of their lapsed state. And thus, as the Apostle speaks, 'All Nature is in travail, and groaning to be delivered from the evil;' till the breath of the love of God shall kindle upon the final fire, out of which the new heavens and new earth shall come forth, like gold seven times refined, to shine for ever and ever!"

189. THE CHRISTIAN REVELATION THE SURE STANDARD OF MORALITY. LOCKE.

[JOHN LOCKE, whose writings half a century ago were regarded as the text-book of sound philosophy, has now passed into comparative neglect. This is not the place to examine into the causes of this revolution of opinion, which may be equally traced in the poetry and the theology of our own day. His Essay on the Human Understanding' will, however, always command attention for the clearness of its style, and the perspicuity of its reasoning. As a political writer, Locke is to be admired for his consistent advocacy of freedom and toleration, in an age when such opinions were more than unfashionable-were absolutely dangerous. He was born in 1632; was employed in various public offices under the famous Lord Shaftesbury, and shared the disgrace of that statesman; returned from exile at the Revolution of 1688, and was employed by the government of William III. The following extract is from his Reasonableness of Christianity' -an attempt to show what points of belief were common to all Christians. The latter years of Locke's life were passed in retirement, and his studies were confined to the Holy Scriptures. He died in 1701.]

Next to the knowledge of one God, Maker of all things, a clear knowledge of their duty was wanting to mankind. This part of knowledge, though cultivated with some care by some of the heathen philosophers, yet got little footing among the people. All men indeed, under pain of displeasing the gods, were to frequent the temples: every one went to their sacrifices and services; but the priests made it not their business to teach them virtue. If they were diligent in their observations and ceremonies, punctual in their feasts and solemnities, and the tricks of religion, the holy tribe assured them the gods were pleased; and they looked no further.

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We see how unsuccessful in this the attempts of philosophers were before our Saviour's time. How short their several systems came of the perfection of a true and complete morality is very visible. And if, since that, the Christian philosophers have much outdone them, yet we may observe, that the first knowledge of the truths they have added are owing to revelation; though, as soon as they are heard and considered, they are found to be agreeable to reason, and such as can by no means be contradicted. Every one may observe a great many truths, which he receives at first from others, and readily consents to as consonant to reason, which he would have found it hard, and perhaps beyond his strength, to have discovered himself. Native and original truth is not so easily wrought out of the mine, as we who have it delivered ready dug and fashioned into our hands, are apt to imagine. And how often at fifty or threescore years old are thinking men told what they wonder how they could miss thinking of! which yet their own contemplations did not and possibly never would have helped them to. Experience shows that the knowledge of morality, by mere natural light, (how agreeable soever it be to it,) makes but a slow progress and little advance in the world. And the reason of it is not hard to be found in men's necessities, passions, vices, and mistaken interests, which turn their thoughts another way. And the designing leaders, as well as the following herd, find it not to their purpose to employ much of their meditations this way. Or, whatsoever else was the cause, it is plain in fact, human reason, unassisted, failed men in its great and proper business of morality. It never, from unquestionable principles, by clear deductions, made out an entire body of the law of nature. And he that shall collect all the moral rules of the philosophers, and compare them with those contained in the New Testament, will find them to come short of the morality delivered by our Saviour and taught by his apostles: a college made up for the most part of ignorant but inspired fishermen.

Though yet, if any one should think, that, out of the sayings of the wise heathens before our Saviour's time, there might be a collection made of all those rules of morality which are to be found in the Christian religion; yet this would not at all

hinder, but that the world nevertheless stood as much in need of our Saviour, and the morality delivered by him. Let it be granted (though not true) that all the moral precepts of the Gospel were known by somebody or other, amongst mankind, before. But where, or how, or of what use, is not considered. Suppose they may be picked up here and there; some from Solon and Bias in Greece; others from Tully in Italy; and, to complete the work, let Confucius, as far as China, be consulted; and Anacharsis the Scythian contribute his share. What will all this do to give the world a complete morality, that may be to mankind the unquestionable rule of life and manners? I will not here urge the impossibility of collecting from men so far distant from one another in time, and place, and languages. I will suppose there was a Stobæus in those times, who had gathered the moral sayings from all the sages of the world. What would this amount to towards being a steady rule, a certain transcript of a law that we are under? Did the saying of Aristippus or Confucius give it an authority? Was Zeno a lawgiver to mankind? If not, what he or any other philosopher delivered, was but a saying of his. Mankind might hearken to it, or reject it, as they pleased, or as it suited their interest, passions, principles, or humours; they were under no obligation; the opinion of this or that philosopher was of no authority: and if it were, you must take all he said under the same character. All his dictates must go for law, certain and true, or none of them. And then, if you will take any of the moral sayings of Epicurus (many whereof Seneca quotes with esteem and approbation) for precepts of the law of nature, you must take all the rest of his doctrine for such too, or else his authority ceases; and so no more is to be received from him, or any of the sages of old, for parts of the law of nature, as carrying with it an obligation to be obeyed, but what they prove to be so. But such a body of ethics, proved to be the law of nature, from principles of reason, and reaching all the duties of life, I think nobody will say the world had before our Saviour's time. It is not enough that there were up and down scattered sayings of wise men conformable to right reason. The law of nature was the law of convenience too; and it is no wonder that those men of parts, and studious of virtue, (who had occasion to think on any particular part of it,) should by meditation light on the right, even from the observable convenience and beauty of it, without making out its obligation from the true principles of the law of nature, and foundations of morality. But these incoherent apophthegms of philosophers and wise men, however excellent in themselves, and well intended by them, could never make a morality whereof the world could be convinced; could never rise to the force of a law that mankind could with certainty depend on. Whatsoever should thus be universally useful, as a standard to which men should conform their manners, must have its authority either from reason or revelation. It is not every writer of morals, or compiler of it from others, that can thereby be erected into a lawgiver to mankind; and a dictator of rules, which are therefore valid because they are to be found in his books, under the authority of this or that philosopher. He that any one will pretend to set up in this kind, and have his rules pass for authentic directions, must show that either he builds his doctrines upon principles of reason, self-evident in themselves, and that he deduces all the parts of it from thence, by clear and evident demonstration; or must show his commission from heaven, that he comes with authority from God to deliver his will and commands to the world. In the former way nobody that I know before our Saviour's time, ever did or went about to give us a morality. It is true, there is a law of nature: but who is there that ever did or undertook to give it us all entire, as a law; no more nor no less than what was contained in, and had the obligation of, that law? Who ever made out all the parts of it, put them together, and showed the world their obligation? Where was there any such code, that nkind might have recourse to as their unerring rule, before our Saviour's time?

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