they who were brethren would exhibit the lovely spectacle of brethren dwelling together in unity; wars and bloodshed then would cease, and the cheering prediction of the prophet would then be accomplished, "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." It would be good for individuals, whose fire a little spark is apt to kindle, were they to cultivate this Christian virtue, and be ready to say, under its hallowing and harmonizing influence, "Our strife shall cease, for we be brethren." Then would be beheld "how good and how pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." This would tend to restore that state of primeval felicity, when the fell passions of our nature were unknown, and when man had not lifted up his hand in wrath against his brother-man. It would be well for Churches, were they to show more of this spirit in the commencement of their disputations about doctrine and discipline. The cause of truth would be more effectually promoted; and the enemies of religion would have less reason to speak against it, were its professors, in contending for the faith, to remember, that "the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God;" and were they to obey the apostolic injunction,— -an injunction worthy to be written in letters of gold," Let nothing be done through strife or vain-glory; but, in lowliness of mind, let each esteem others better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took up. on him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." SANCTIFIED AFFLICTION. He came, the sweet angel my Father assigned I knew not if yet from that path I'd declined, Ile touched me: and O how I shrunk from its touch, It longed to be free, for its prospects were such My Father! I deemed thou hadst called me to dwell Love ordered the plan, and in love such as thine O welcome the sufferings whenever they come, Ah! when shall I shake off these trammels of flesh, When the joys I so value shall blossom afresh, Shall I think the embrace that dissolves them too cold, No: welcome the summons that bids me depart, When the clog from my spirit death strikes with his dart, And welcome the moment to me, And bids it for ever be free. Lord Jesus, I then in thy glory shall share, CHRISTIAN TREASURY. Awake thou that Sleepest.-I wish you an awakened soul, and that you beguile not yourself in the matter of your salvation. When so few are saved, as God's Word saith, what cause have we to shake ourselves out of ourselves, and to ask our souls,—“Whither goest? Where shalt thou lodge at night? Where are thy charters and writs of thy heavenly inheritance? Alas! security, security is the bane and wreck of most part of the world. O make your heaven sure, and try how you came by conversion; that it be not a white and fession of Christ is by many made a stage garment to well-lustred profession. Woe is me that the holy probring home a vain fame. It were wisdom for us to be free, plain, honest, and sharp with our own souls. Remember what peace with God in Christ will be to you when you come to the black and swelling river of death. Let me entreat of you, by your appearance before the dreadful sin-avenging Judge of the world, to make your accounts ready; read them ere you come to the water side. It were not amiss to think,"What if it come to this, that I shall have no portion but outer darkness, and be banished from the presence of the Lord, and be given over to the power of the second death?" Put yourself, by supposition, in such a case, and consider what horror would take hold of your poor soul. This is the accepted time; this is the day of salvation. There are many weary heads lying on Christ's bosom, and there is room for yours among the rest.—RUTHERFORD. The divinity of Christ the only foundation of true foundation, that He who has undertaken to save us, and Religion. All religion is built upon this immoveable conduct us to God, is one and the same God with his Father, though he be a person really distinct from him. These truths, although they be common are, notwithstanding, infinitely above our reason. It is our duty to adore them, to exercise our faith upon them, and to return most humble thanks to Christ, for that being one with his Father from all eternity, He is graciously pleased to become one with us to all eternity.-QUES• NEL. A True and False Hope.-The difference between a true and a false hope is this: A false hope is founded in ignorance, falsehood, and presumption. It lives in unholiness, and lives only in prosperity. It separates the means from the end. It looks for heaven, and yet is ever on the way to hell. A true hope delights in God and in his ways; it unites the end and the means, and that diligently and perpetually. It is humble, modest, patient, and it thrives equally in prosperity and adversity. HoWELS. The dead shall arise.-On Monday the mortal remains of our dear Kenneth were committed to the dust. He now sleeps in an Indian grave, far from you and from those precious ones who so recently preceded him to glory. But his dust is not unnoticed by the Redeemer, who will guard and keep it till the resurrection-day. We shall often visit the spot where it is deposited; and when they from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, shall be united in one blessed family, you will behold its reanimated form a glorious body, without spot or wrinkle," and clad in immortal robes.-Memoirs of Mrs Wilson, Bombay. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. SIR RICHARD HILL, BART. In the autumn of 1780, Mr Hill was returned without "The house laughs," he exclaimed, "at my quotations from Scripture, but I hope it is unnecessary to apologize for mentioning a book now so obsolete as the Bible! I fear that old-fashioned volume takes up but very little time and attention of this honourable House: permit me to say, I cannot help wishing it took up more. If we were to settle our differences in the spirit which it inculcates, our debates would be much shorter than they are. For instance, with regard to the case of our American captives being dieted as rebels, and not as prisoners of war, if St. Paul had been suffered to determine the question, his principles would have thus decided, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.' But, alas, though we have frequent appeals to other laws, we have seldom any appeals to the law of God." No laughter followed these remarks; their truth came home to the conscience. In the most important questions which came before the House of Commons, Mr Hill showed a lively interest, and generally took a share in the debates. At length Parliament was prorogued in July 1782, and he made a short excursion, after which he joined his family at Hawkstone. In domestic retirement, however, his mind was active. He entered warmly into the events of the period, and accordingly during the recess he published a pamphlet on the passing topics of the day, under the quaint title of "The Sky-Rocket." This production, though given to the world anonymously, was soon recognised to be his, and as it contained some severe and unsparing attacks on the prevailing evils of the time in which it was written, it drew down upon him the censure of those who felt that their own faults were thus fearlessly reprehended. Such a result, however, was no more than Mr Hill expected, and therefore, amid all reproach, he was unmoved. He laboured not for the approbation of man. No. His was a higher object. He sought the approbation of Him in whose favour is life. Thus conscientious and upright, he was often exposed to severe trials in the discharge of his duty. A case of this nature occurred shortly after the appearance of the Sky-Rocket. An old friend of his, the Rev. Mr Madan, published a book in favour of Polygamy, entitled, Thelypthora, or a Treatise on Female Ruin.' Mr Hill remonstrated against the appearance of the work, but in vain; and as soon as it appeared, he wrote a pamphlet in opposition to the absurd opinions set forth in its pages. The labour was scarcely called for, as Mr Madan's production was treated by the public with silent contempt. 6 During the next session of Parliament, which lasted from December 1782 to July of the following year, Mr Hill paid strict attention to his duties as a senator, and though his speeches were by no means characterised by brilliant eloquence, such was the moral influence of his consistent character for integrity and real worth, that he was invariably listened to with attention and respect. Shortly after the close of this laborious session, Mr Hill was called to mourn the loss of his father Sir Rowland, to whose title and estates he now succeeded. While Sir Richard Hill was indefatigable in his attendance upon the meetings of Parliament he often availed himself of the few months of recess to make occasional tours to the Continent in the society of his brother Mr Brian Hill. His sister, Miss Jane Hill, also travelled in various parts of Germany and France. In the Notes of this accomplished and excellent lady, there are some very interesting and authentic particulars respecting Voltaire, which she collected when in Paris. We extract an account of a visit which the Abbé Gaultier paid to the infidel philosopher during his last illness. "There were in the apartment several persons who desired to speak to him; but he permitted them to remain only two or three minutes, declaring how much he suffered, and that to say the truth, he was unfit to receive any body. When these visitors retired, he became extremely courteous to the Abbé, whom he took by the hand and led into an inner room. There he requested him to be seated, and placing himself by his side, inquired what it was he came to say. The Abbé commenced with assuring him, that the desire of knowing a man of such celebrity, and of being serviceable to him as a minister of religion, induced him to solicit permission to pay his duty to Monsieur Voltaire. Ile then mentioned, that though he had not the honour of his personal acquaintance, he was well known to one of his friends who had favoured him with confidence. Of this gentleman, Monsieur de Lattagnant, he was happy to report, that age and infirmities had brought him to suitable reflections on his past life; and he urged upon Voltaire the same duty. If, Monsieur,' he also added, my ministry be agreeable to you, you have only to speak, and I shall conform myself to your wishes. I am not the only one in Paris who can do you that service. You have a choice before you. You will find many more worthy than I am, ready to be of use to you.' Voltaire listened with polite attention; but the instant the Abbé ceased, he inquired with earnestness whether his coming originated with himself or was suggested by others. The Abbé replied that it was entirely his own doing. What,' he said, did not the archbishop nor the curé de St. Sulpice advise you?' His visitor repeated his declaration that no person had urged him to attend on him; and observed that if his presence were not agreeable, he depended on his indulgence, but if it was, he desired to bless God for it. I am delighted,' said Voltaire, that you were not sent here by any body; and now pray what have you been, and what are you?' The Abbé answered that he was for seventeen years a Jesuit, and that he had been nearly twenty years a curé in the diocese of Rouen, but was then employed at Paris. Voltaire immediately made offers of worldly services and rewards for his attention. The Abbé declined them with the remark, Ah! Monsieur, my great reward would be to have you for my conquest.' He likewise told him that a merciful God would not have him lost, and said with earnestness, return to Him, since he returns to you.' Voltaire appeared touched with these words, and rejoined, I love God.' The Abbé told him that was much, but if his love were sincere, he would be ready to give proofs of it. "The Abbé was frequently interrupted by the impatience of Voltaire's friends. 'Make an end,' said one of them, you see that Monsieur Voltaire vomits blood, and is not in a condition to speak.' Voltaire smartly answered, Ah, Monsieur, leave me if you please with my friend the Abbé Gaultier; he does not flatter me.' Madame Denis came in at the end of three quarters of an hour, and spoke gently-Monsieur l'Abbé, my uncle will be much fatigued; be so kind as to come again another time.' He then retired, asking permission to repeat his attendance, which was readily granted, and departed with the words, Adieu, Monsieur Voltaire; I believe you have not a more sincere friend in the world than I am.' Thus ended this extraordinary interview, and the Abbé proceeded to give an account of it to the Archbishop of Paris and the curé de St. Sulpice. He "He heard no more of Voltaire till the 25th of February, when he received a note to this effect: You promised, Monsieur, to come and hear what I had to say; I desire you will give yourself the trouble to come as soon as you can.' It was late in the evening when this invitation reached him, but the request was repeated the next morning by Madame Denis. accordingly attended at the house of the Marquis de Villette, but he did not see Voltaire. He was told that the curé de St. Sulpice was come to urge him to confession, but that he had said all his confidence was in the Abbé. On the second of March he went again, and before he entered the apartment of Voltaire, was warned not to be alarmed, as he was vomiting blood, and to speak mildly. The Marechal de Richelieu came out, and begged the Abbé not to neglect him. He promised to do his best. On his entering the chamber, Voltaire seized him by the hand, and desired that he would confess him before he died. The Abbé replied that he had It appears that D'Alembert and Diderot were of his party, and treated tlie Abbé with contempt. ink. spoken to the curé de St. Sulpice, whose parishione Voltaire was, and had received permission to do so but that he must make retractation before confession This he offered to write himself, and called for pen an When they were brought, he desired all to retir that he might be left alone with the Abbé Gaultier The Abbé asserted that he then wrote with his ow hand-1, underwritten, declare, that being attacke four months since with a vomiting of blood, at the a of fourscore and four years, and not being able to dra myself to church, Monsieur le curé de St. Sulpice be ing glad to add to his good works, that of sending Mon sieur l'Abbé Gaultier the priest to me-I confess my self to him, and if God take me, I die in the Catholi religion in which I was born, hoping in the divine mercy for pardon of all my faults; and if I have ever brough scandal on the Church, I ask pardon of God and her. Witnesses were called in to hear this retractation read and to sign it. Voltaire then also wrote-' M. l'Abb Gaultier having given me notice, that they say in a cer tain world, I shall protest against all that I do at my death; I declare that I never had such intentions, ar that it is an ancient pleasantry attributed a long time ago very falsely, to several scholars more enlightened than VOLTAIRE.' "He then handed the Abbé his retractation, and said, 'You are going no doubt to insert it in the jour nals: I have no objection.' The Abbé replied, 'It is yet too soon.' 'Are you satisfied?' asked Voltaire. The answer was, It does not appear sufficient; but I will communicate it to the Archbishop of Paris. Upon seeing it, he did not approve it, neither did the curd de St. Sulpice, to whom it was also carried, although Voltaire sent him a large sum of money to distribute to the poor. The Abbé returned to the house of the Marquis de Villette, to endeavour to obtain a less equivocal document, but was told by the Suisse he could not be admitted. On this he wrote to Voltaire, and received for answer that the master of the house had forbidden entrance to any ecclesiastic except the curé de St. Sulpice; but that when the sick man had recovered his health a little, he would be happy to see Monsieur l'Abbé Gaultier. This reply was signed 'de Voltaire,' and dated, Paris, March 15.' He somewhat revived, but the promise was not kept. On hearing this, the Abbé applied with great urgency by letter to be allowed an interview. Voltaire sent his nephew Monsieur l'Abbé Mignot to call on Monsieur Gaultier, and to say that his uncle would confess to nobody but him. He promised to confess him, upon condition that he signed a retractation drawn up by himself. The Abbé Mignot undertook to make Voltaire sign it, and to have it inserted in all the journals and newspapers in Europe. The Abbé Gaultier then went to him and found him delirious, the effect probably of the large doses of opium he is reported to have taken. Of course the Abbé mentioned nothing of his errand; and three hours after he went away, Voltaire died." In the year 1791 Sir Richard Hill, accompanied by his brother, the Rev. Brian Hill, made a tour through Sicily and Calabria, an account of which the latter gentleman afterwards published, including a detailed statement of the ceremonies of Holy Week at Rome, After having spent some time on the Continent, the travellers returned home, and soon after his arrival in England, Sir Richard and his brother Rowland were made the subject of a scandalous libel, published under the title of A Cure for Canting.' Sir Richard prose cuted the author, and obtained the verdict of a jury in his favour. In defending himself against this vile slanderer, he gave vent to his feelings with great modesty. Feeling, as I do, the weight of declining years, be ing now nearly arrived at my grand climacteric, and looking back, as I trust I can, with more than indifference on a world I must very soon leave, to give an account of all my deeds done in the body, rejecting with abhorrence the Pharisee boast of 'God, I thank thee, I am not as other men are,' and shuddering to approach my Maker with any other plea but that of the humble self-abased publican; yet in the retrospect of so many days that are past, I am not afraid of being deemed too presumptuous, in making my solemn appeal to conscience and to the whole world, that not one of those days has ever been sullied by a single mean or ignoble action towards my fellow-creatures. Selfvindication must ever be most painful to a feeling mind, but personal attacks demand a personal defence; and under such circumstances, truth, honour, character, and religion itself must all concur in the propriety of such vindication, provided a delicacy be observed as to particular instances." The libeller had accused him of being oppressive and avaricious, to which he thus replies: "Thanks be to that gracious Providence who hath given me what I have, for giving me at the same time to know and feel that there can be no happiness in riches, but with riches to make each other happy: insomuch that I scruple not at all to affirm, that I would rather live on one hundred pounds or even fifty pounds a-year, than be the possessor of millions, either for the purposes for which they are too frequently lavished, prostituted, and abused, or to increase a sordid heap of mouldering dust; so that for whatever else I may have occasion to be humbled as a sinner before my God, I trust I may, by his grace, anticipate that my death-bed will not shake under me with the horrors of that sentence :Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries which shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten; your gold and silver are cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and you shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days.' The time is at hand when the mask of hypocrisy must be plucked from every visage, and when professions of faith will be judged by the works they have produced, towards the souls and bodies of our neighbours. Till that period arrive, the estimates which my fellow-mortals may make of me, are of so little avail, that were it not that the honour of religion itself is struck at, by the blows which are levelled at those who in this day of rebuke and blasphemy, infidelity and profaneness, are not ashamed to confess it and its divine Author, I should not have made a word of reply to all the envenomed tongues of falsehood, malice, and slander united." The author of this infamous libel upon one of the most upright, and generous, and pious, men of his time, was an individual who had experienced peculiar kindness from Sir Richard Hill, and in whose favour the worthy baronet had successfully applied to Mr Pitt. In the course of the prosecution of this unworthy person, the highest eulogiums were passed upon the character of Sir Richard Hill, both from the bench and the bar. The remarks of Mr Erskine, counsel for the plaintiff, are well worth quoting. "Gentlemen, you will, I am sure, be shocked at hearing the indecency, scurrility, and ribaldry of this attack upon an honourable man; and I cannot help saying, that as some good arises out of every evil that can be stated, so one feels-I beg pardon of Sir Richard Hill for saying it-so one feels a sort of solace at hearing such a libel read upon such a person; because in this age of calumny, when no man's honour is safe, whatever his character and conduct may be, a man may bave this to say, when he is smarting under the lash of slander-he will be able to say in these times, even Sir Richard Hill is the object of such a calumny.' Mr Erskine then described the nature of the libel, and proceeded- Scattered throughout this production are these gross and scandalous calumnies. And, gentlemen, upon whom is this calumny cast? Upon a man the most beneficent and inoffensive in the world! And in what manner inoffensive? Not from obscurity or poverty; no, he is the possessor of one of the most splendid inheritances in this island, which, by the accession of art and creative cultivation, he has converted into a sort of paradise-not to riot there in criminal debauchery, unmindful of Him who placed him in it, but whose life is a pattern of modesty, piety, and goodness; whose first gratification in the great expense which he creates, is the relief and sustentation of the poor whom he feeds by it; and whose house, the seat of honest, virtuous, English hospitality, and the receptacle of every thing which can render life comfortable or delightful, is at the same time, as it were, a house of prayer for the service of the great Dispenser of all benefits and blessings. Gentlemen, I say this, and I am happy by the cause being late, that it was left me to say it, not from my brief, not from my instructions, not from the information of others, but I speak it from my own knowledge of what I say, from my childhood upwards, and an experience, fortunately for me, a very this should be the object of such a calumny is horrible; large and long one. Gentlemen, that such a man as of the case should call for it, that Sir Richard Hill has more especially as I will prove to you, if the necessity been brought into contact with this defendant, and been made the subject of his animadversions by his, the defendant, having been an object of his bounty. He recommended him in his profession, thinking well of him, in order to enable him to support himself and his family. But I pause here: we are not upon the subject of ingratitude, we are upon the subject of guilt." On this trial Lord Kenyon was the presiding judge, and the brief but emphatic testimony which he himself gave to the character of the accused was to this effect: "A better man I do not know within the circle of human nature." Towards the end of the last century a work appeared, bearing the name of a Guide to the Church,' which attempted to throw discredit upon the opinions of evangelical writers, particularly Mr Wilberforce and Mrs Hannah More. To this production, Sir Richard Hill thought it his duty to reply, and accordingly he published an answer under the name of An Apology for Brotherly Love.' This work consists of seven letters addressed to Mr Daubeny, the author of the Guide,' and at the end of the book is a sermon from John vi. 37, by Bishop Babington. In answer to the Apology,' Mr Daubeny compiled two octavo volumes, which he called an Appendix to the Guide to the Church,' and in which he reiterated the unsound and uncharitable opinions contained in his original work. This called forth a reply from the pen of Sir Richard Hill entitled 'Reformation Truth Restored.' In the course of this rejoinder the following interesting occurrence is related by Sir Richard as having taken place in his presence: "He happened once to be in the company of three extraordinary persons in very different ways the Earl of Chesterfield, the Countess of Huntingdon, and Mrs Macaulay. Lady Huntingdon, with her usual zeal, endeavoured to introduce the subject of serious religion, which Mrs Macaulay continually avoided by bringing in her own favourite views of republicanism. She launched out into rapturous commendations of the Romans, the Lacedæmonians, the laws of Lycurgus, and the praise bestowed on them by Xenophon. Lord Chesterfield, equally uneasy at the mention of either of these topies, still maintained his politeness, though longing all the while for an opportunity to slip away without any breach of good manners. He praised beyond measure the historical knowledge and ingenuity of Mrs Macaulay; and passed the most flattering encomiums on the zeal, piety, and character of Lady Huntingdon. Ah,' said the latter, it is for want of your lordship's knowing me more perfectly, that you speak of me in such flattering terms; for I am conscious that I am nothing better than a poor, vile, miserable, sinful creature, such as can only hope to be saved by free sovereign grace, and without any merit of my own to recommend me to the divine favour.' This sincere rejection of the flattery of the noble earl, gave him the desired opportunity of escaping from the seat of thorns, on which his courtesy had so long kept him. He rose, made a most profound bow, and retired with these characteristic words, I never yet was in any room or company where I could stay and hear the excellent Lady Huntingdon abused. I am therefore under the immediate necessity of bidding your ladyship good morrow. Mrs Macaulay, your most obedient.' In the year 1798 some Roman Catholic priests, driven by the agitations which prevailed in France, took refuge in England. To several of these emigrants Sir Richard Hill showed great hospitality and kindness. While, however, he deemed it his duty to treat these men with the attention due to those who were in distress, he looked with the utmost indignation upon the attempts which some of them made to spread the unscriptural tenets of Popery. No sooner did he learn that such exertions were employed, than he entered into correspondence with the Bishop of London, the pious Dr Beilby Porteous, with the view of putting a stop to them. Another object which engaged his attention about this time was the sinful practice which then, and alas! still prevails in London of publishing Sunday newspapers. On this subject also he corresponded with Bishop Porteous. Nothing could be done, however, to check this serious profanation of God's holy Sabbath. The evil continues to this day in all its virulence. Another nuisance, against which Sir Richard Hill loudly remonstrated, was the inhuman practice of bull-baiting, which was carried on to a fearful extent at that time in England. Besides supporting a bill introduced into Parliament for the prevention of this barbarous amusement, he published a letter addressed to Mr Windham, who was one of the most violent opponents of the bill; and to enlighten the public mind upon the point, Sir Richard Hill printed a series of letters, received from clergymen and magistrates, detailing occurrences of the brutal practice in their various districts. The scarcity approaching to famine with which the whole country was threatened in the year 1800 called forth the benevolent feelings of the worthy subject of our present Sketch. Both in and out of Parliament he showed himself the poor man's friend, and by his private charities, as well as his public exertions, he strove to alleviate sufferings which he could not remove. Any attack made upon evangelical religion instantly roused the energies of Sir Richard Hill to vindicate doctrines which he felt to be the comfort and support of his own soul. An occasion of this kind presented itself by the publication of the charge delivered to his clergy by Dr Tomline, Bishop of Lincoln, in the year 1803. In that charge the learned prelate made some severe and uncalled-for strictures upon the doctrines of the evangelical ministers of the Church of England. Sir Richard Hill came forward in defence of what be considered the doctrines taught in the Scriptures and in the Thirty-nine Articles. He published a series of letters addressed to Bishop Tomline, which form a clear and luminous defence of evangelical truth and its expounders. While thus labouring in public Sir Richard Hill was unwearied in his deeds of private benevolence. For the benefit of the poor on his estate, he erected a building about two miles from his mansion at Hawkstone, which he called "Industry Hall." Instruction was there given in reading and work of various kinds, and the peculiar charm of the school was, and indeed still is, that religious instruction forms the basis of the system of teaching adopted. The whole, indeed, seems to have been formed upon the model of the well-known schools established by the enlightened and truly Chris tian Mrs Hannah More. The school at Hawkstone was chiefly superintended by the Rev. Brian Hill, who resided at the village of Weston in the immediate neighbourhood. And not only did Sir Richard Hill feel deeply interested in the spiritual concerns of the poor in his immediate neighbourhood; he sought also to promote to the utmost of his ability the extension of the Gospel throughout the earth. In the formation of the British and Foreign Bible Society he took an active part, and till his death, he was the strenuous advocate and supporter of that noble institution. In the autumn of 1806 Sir Richard Hill began to feel his health declining, and he resolved to go to Bath for the benefit of change of air and the mineral waters. While on his way thither a dissolution of Parliament took place, and he determined to resign his seat and retire from public life. This step was much regretted by the most influential persons of the county which he had so long represented. His uprightness and the Chris tian consistency of his whole political career bad en deared him much to his constituents, and his retiremert was looked upon as a loss of no ordinary kind. He had now passed, however, into the vale of years, and he no longer felt himself capable of undergoing the severe exertions required of him as a member of Parliament. In his peaceful retreat at Hawkstone, he spent the remainder of his days, happy in himself, and a diffusing happiness all around him. His last illness was of short duration, but his mind was calm and peaceful. He died on the 28th day of August 1808, and was buried in the vault at Hodnet Church. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the character of Sir Richard Hill. Its most striking features must have been apparent to the reader of this necessarily brief and rapid Sketch. The work from which we have drawn our materials is one of the most fascinating and instructive pieces of biography which has appeared in modern times. *The Life of Sir Richard Hill, Bart. By the Rev. Edwin Sidney, A.M. Seeley and Burnside. London: 1839. Printed and Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, 2, Hunter Square, Edinburgh; and sold by J. R. MACNAIR & Co., 19, Glassford Street, Glasgow; JAMES NISBET & Co., HAMILTON, ADAMS & Co., and R. GROOMBRIDGE, London; W. CURRY, Junr. & Co., Dublin; W. M'COMB, Belfast; and by the Booksellers and Local Agents in all the Towns and Parishes of Scotland; and in the principal Towns in England and Ireland. Subscribers will have their copies delivered at their Residences, |