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some time before they fought; but, deluded by a false notion of honour, believing their courage would be called in question if they did not fight, they armed themselves with swords and pistols. went, without any malice, in the same coach, to the place where the matter was to be decided; and on the first discharge of the pistols, Sir Chomley was mortally wounded, and died a few days after, lamenting the unhappy occasion, and that none of their friends would be so good as to endeavour to make up the matter before they fought; for it seems there were some days between the challenge and the engagement: nor was Mr. Thornhill less afflicted than his dying friend, for the unfortunate murder which that false notion of honour had incited him to commit on a gentleman in whose defence he would readily have ventured his own life at another time. I have related this the more largely, that gentlemen, reflecting on this unhappy adventure, may, when passionate words are let fall, deliberate a little before they run headlong to their own destruction. It has been observed, that the Romans, the bravest men that ever ruled the world, gave no encouragement to this practice of duelling. They thought there was more honour in passing by an affront, than resenting it; especially in so outrageous a manner. The highest point of honour among them was, the saving the life of a fellow citizen; and among us, no man is thought brave till he has murdered a friend and shall Christians, whose very characteristic is a forgiving benevolent temper, become more savage than heathens, by encouraging these barbarous encounters? The Parliament, it is true, was so sensible of the inhumanity of the practice, that a bill was brought in this sessions (1711) to prevent the infamous practice of duelling; but it was unaccountably dropped; and we have yet no law that sufficiently restrains gentlemen from cutting the throats of their friends and relations! for that absurd notion still prevails, That he is a scoundrel who refuses to be a murderer!

See Memoirs of the Life and Reign of Q. Anne.

IN reading the anecdote, in your last Number, upon "Infidel Wit repelled," I was reminded of a certain minister, who was more busied in the pleasures of the chace than in superinterding the souls of his flock. This gentleman, one day, meeting with little sport, proposed to entertain his companions at the expence of an inoffensive Quaker, whom he had often very rudely ridiculed; and who was then approaching them. Immediately he rode up briskly to him, saying, “Obadiah, have you seen the hare?"- Why, neighbour, hast thou lost him? said the honest Quaker. "Lost him! yes, indeed." Then replied he, If I were the hare, I would run where I am sure thou wouldst never find me.' "Where the D- is that!" said the blustering son of Nimrod. "Why, neighbour,' the other answered, I would run into thy study.'

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I LEARN, from the church-books, that about nine years have elapsed since he was called by race. had frequently attended the preaching of the gospel; but the solemn providence of a brother's death first seriously alarmed his mind, and made him direct his views to eternal things. He was admitted member of a Christian church, in Banbury, in the year 1797; and since that time he has filled up the stations of a husband, a father, a servant, and a member of a Christian Society, with comfort to him self, satisfaction to others, and honour to the cause of religion. He had a pleasing gift for prayer; and the church will doubtless feel his loss, at their social meetings for this purpose. The affliction which terminated his death was a rapid decline. This fatal disorder, in the course of a few months, reduced a vigorous frame of body to a truly deplorable spectacle; - but while his outward man decayed, his inward man was renewed day by day. He enjoyed an astonishing share of the divine presence; and in him the promise was amply verified, "As thy day is, so shall thy strength be." His conversation, in his last moments, will display the wonderful combination of Christian graces which richly adorned this departed saint.


His resignation was great. had not many months been united with an agreeable pious partner ; he was the parent of an engaging child, about six or seven years old, the fruits of a former marriage; he was in the prime of life, and respected by all who knew him, yet, from the first prospect of death, he never breathed a wish for a longer respite; but left all his affairs in the hands of God. When I first went to see him, I asked him particularly, how his mind was affected respecting his worldly concerns? His reply was, "I am en

abled to leave them all in the hands of the Lord; I have never given myself a moment's uneasiness about them."

His patience was equal to his resignation. Not a murmur escaped from his lips during a long and painful confinement. He was enabled eminently to illustrate the resolu tion of pious Job, “All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come." I saw him in one of the severest attacks of his pains occasioned by wounds made in different parts of his body, thro' long confinement; but while writhing with agony, he was employed in admiring the goodness of God, or praying for divine assistance in his exigency: : -- Lord !" he exclaimed, "fook upon a poor unworthy sinner, and send help from above." Had I then been required by an infidel, to prove the excer lency of Christianity, I could not have done better than to have taken him to the sick chamber of this departing Christian; while should have been induced to exclaim, with holy triumph, "Here is the patience of the saints !"

His faith was strong, and founded on the Rock of Ages. It was his privilege to be assured of his interest in a covenant God. When I once asked him the state of his mind, he replied, "I bless God I can say I know in whom I have believed," &c. It was his felicity to be enabled to stretch out the hand of Faith, and appropriate the promises of the gospel to his urgent necessities. A few times the sunshine of Comfort was intercepted by clouds, but he was sensible that his doubts were the offspring of a tempter, working upon a weak frame; and he carried them to God, and received satisfactory and consoling answers from the throne of grace. At one time he said, “I am still enabled to rest upon a faithful covenant-keeping God. Blessed be God! he is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." At another

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His hope was truly animated. I will mention ane instance: -When I called one day, he was agonized with pain, and groaning beneath his tortures. I stood by the bedside in silence. He suddenly raised his head, and lifted up his hands to Heaven, while his dying eyes beamed with inexpressible delight, and exclaimed, with equal energy of expression. "Look unto me, and be ye saved all ye ends of the earth!"

His humility was an ornament to the whole of these graces. As it It is an established custom at Banbury, on the death of a member, to improve the event by a funeralsermon, he selected Rev. xiv. 13, as suitable for the occasion; but requested that

the latter clause

should be left out, sensible that he was a poor unworthy servant of Christ; however, after an explanation of the nature of the passage, he left it to the minister's pleasure. be lept in Jesus, May 27, aged thirty-one. His funeral-sermon was preached by Mr. Cobbin, at the New Chapel, Banbury, on the Sabbath evening after his interment, to a large and crowded auditory. Banbury.

J. C.

MISS GRAHAM. THE Lord's dealings in providence are often very mysterious, especially in bereavements. Often are the young snatched away by death in the bloom of life; and the more aged, whose usefulness seems

nearly past, are spared. An affecting instance of this kind, has lately been experienced in the family of Mr. Graham, of Newbury, whose eldest daughter died on the 28th of May, aged seventeen last Christmas - day. The influenza, with which she was seized in March, left her in a very languid state, and settled upon her lungs; and proved the cause of her dissolution, after nearly eleven weeks illness, borne in an exemplary manner with Christian resignation.

The Lord, in infinite mercy, very early in life enabled her to seek him, as her only portion; and to prefer affliction with the people of God, to the enjoyment of the pleasures of sin. At six years of age she had strong convictions of sin; which led her to cry to God, in secret prayer, for pardon. At that time she had learnt, and repcated to her parents, "Dr.Watts's Hymns for Children;" but it was the ninth hymn, on "The all-seeing God," that more particularly affected her mind, especially the second and last verses; together with reading that excellent book, "Janeway's Token for Chil dren." Hereby she was led to reflect that prayer, and even secret duty, were not acceptable in God's sight, unless from the heart. From this time she had a clear view of herself as a sinful creature; and undone, without an interest in Christ. Family-religion, and the instructions of her parents, were much blessed to the establishment of her mind. At the age of thir teen, she had a strong desire to join the church of Christ, under the pastoral care of the Rev. J.Winter; but was fearful of being rejected on account of her age. Sometime afterwards, clearly seeing it to be her duty, she opened her mind to a friend; and was cheerfully admitted, to the entire satisfaction of every member, as well as to the great comfort of her parents, at the age of fifteen. Her walk and deireanor, as a follower of Christ, was truly consistent, and gained her the esteem and affection of her Christian friends; and indeed of all in the circle of her acquainta ce among whom she was cal nestly desirous of being useful.

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The Lord denied not her request. A testimony of this has been received by her parents since her decease, from a school at Islington, where she for some time resided *. She also bore an active part in the Sunday schools at Newbury; in which she took much delight.


ing, of the 28th of May. After a very restless night, she said to the with her, "I am very sleepy lay servant and a friend who sat up me down, that I may go to sleep." sweetly falling asleep in Jesus, She did so, and never awoke again; without a groan or sigh.

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This striking providence was suit-
the morning of the next Sabbath
after her interment, from Prov.viii.
17; and, in the evening, to young
persons, by his assistant-minister
Mr. Philp, from Prov. iii. 17.
W. G.


seventh year of his age, the Rev. ON July 26, died, in the thirtyR. Densham, late itinerant preacher lages, under the patronage of the at Petersfield, and the adjacent vilSociety called The Village Linerary, of which the late Rev. J. Eyre was Superintendant and Treasurer. Mr. Densham, on the 25th, had taken a one-horse chaise, with intent to meet Mr. Wilks and another member of the Society at Haslemere, about twelve miles from Petersfield; where they had appointed to of erecting a place of worship in the propriety that borough. the town, the horse took fright, On coming into ran with violence into an inn-yard, where the chaise was overset; and Mr. Densham, falling with his head against the stable, had his scull fractured. The best medical help was immediately procured, but without effect; for, about three o'clock, the next morning he expired.

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At the commencement of her illness, her mind was very uncomfortable for about a fortnight; and Satan was permitted to tempt and disturb her. After this, however, her mind was brought into a sweet, calm, and serene frame; which continued to the last period of her existence. Quite resigned to the will of God, her desire (as she often expressed it) was to lie passive in his hand, and know no will but his; and that her affliction might not be removed till sanctified. Frequently, when her parents inquired into the state of her mind, and said, they were fearful she would not recover, -she answered, "I am quite comfortable; I have no fear as to the consequences of death, for I know in whom I have believed:" but (her affection for them being so strong) she could not bear to converse about parting. When talk ing one day with a pious friend, who expressed her doubts and fears as to her own state, she said, "I have had a thousand doubts and fears; but, I bless God, they are all removed! I think it is sinful for you to encourage them." When asked by her mother, the morning before she died, Do you still love Jesus? is he precious to you? and your only hope ?' She replied, "I should be very sorry if my love were so soon turned away. What should I now do? And were it possible for me to spend an eterThe reader will judge of nity of what the world calls Plea- friend; their pleasures were turnthe sudden pang that seized the sure, I would gladly resign it all to ed into sorrow in a moment; and be with Christ!"-When her suf- pen cannot describe how greatly la ferings were pitied (for it was 'dis-mented he died, having been much tressing to hear her breathe) she said, "What is my suffering, compared to that of Christ! all his dealings to me have been mercy." She still grew weaker; having had no refreshing sleep, without medical assistance, for nearly ten weeks, till about two o'clock in the morn


beloved and owned in his ministry. On the following Thursday he was interred in the chapel at Petersfield, under the pulpit, where, but four days before, he had been delivering two very impressive discourses. funeral-sermon, Mr. Wilks preached his

* Mrs. Colebrook and the Miss Martins, of Colebrooke Row,


The History of the Origin and Transactions of the Missionary Society, &c.

[Concluded from our last]

We have already mentioned the extraordinary conversion of Dr. Vanderkemp. In a second Letter, the Doctor adds,

"You desire to have an account of some particulars respecting the conversion of my soul to Christ.

"Christianity, to me, once appeared inconsistent with the dictates of reason; -the Bible, a collection of incoherent opinions, tales, and prejudices. As to the person of Christ, I looked at first upon him as a man of sense and learning, but who, by his opposition to the established ecclesiastical and political maxims of the Jews, became the object of their hate, and the victim of his own system. I often celebrated the memory of his death by partaking of the Lord's Supper; but, some time after, reflecting that he termed himself the Son of God, and pretended to do miracles, he lost all my former vene. ration.

"I then prayed that God would prepare me, by punishing my sins, for virtue and happiness, and I thanked him for every misfortune; but the first observation I made was, that though I was oftentimes severely chastised, it did not make ine wiser or better. I therefore again prayed to God, that he would show me, in every instance, the crime for which I was punished, that I might know and avoid it ; but finding this vain, I feared that I should never, perhaj s, be corrected in this life by punishment. Still I hoped I might be de livered from moral evil, after death, in some kind of purgatory, by a seveier punishment; yet reflecting that punishment had proved itself utterly ineffectual to produce even the lowest degree of virtue in my soul, I was constrained to acknowledge that my theory, though it seemed by a priori reasoning well grounded, was to tally refuted by experience; and I concluded, it was entirely out of the reach of my reason to discover the true road to virtue and happiness. I confessed this. my impotence and blindness to God; and owned myself, as a blind man, who had Jost his way, and waited in hope that some benevolent man would pass by, and lead me into the right way. - Thus I waited upon God, that he would take me


by the hand, and lead me in the way ever Lasting.

"I could not however entirely get rid of the dea of being corrected by means of punishment; and I still looked on the doctrines of Christ's deity and atonement as useless and blasphemous, though I carefully kept this my opinion secret.

Such was the state of iny mind, when, on the 27th of June, 1791, sailing in a boat, with my wife and daughter, for amusement, suddenly a water-spout overtook us, and turning the boat in an instaut upside down, we were sunk before we apprehended any danger. Both my dearest relations were drowned, and I was carried down by the stream above a mile; and must soon have infallibly been lost also, as from the violence of the storm, no per son could attempt to approach the wreck, and it was supposed we must all have perished together. But now the Lord stretched forth his hand to deliver me:a stronger vessel, lying in the port of Dort, was, by the storm, rent from its moorings, and blown out of the port to wards me, till the men on board thought they discovered a person floating on the side of the wreck, and rescued me from the jaws of death.

"I considered this terrible event as the severest punishment that could be inflicted on me; and saw, the next day, as clear as the light, that it had no more power to correct me than all the former providences, and hence concluded my state to be des perate, and that God abandoned me as incutable by correction.

"The next Sunday I went to the church where the Lord's Supper was to be admi nistered; and though it seemed inconsist ent with my principles to join in the praces of one whom i still held to be an impostor, vet, being ashamed to withdraw from the table, I placed myself among the communicants; but, in order to di veit my thoughts from the object of the solemnity, I directed them to God nearly in this kind of meditation: - "My God, I could not acquiesce in thy dealings with me, nor submit to thy will; but now I can. I chuse to be deprived of my wife and child, because it is thy will;-accept them from my hands:-I trust entirely on ther."

"At this moment these words were represented to my imagination, with an over-ruling authority, "Do not trust them to God, but to me." I started at the strange idea of not trusting to God, not could I conceive the paradox. I felt my❤

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