must follow the cause. You may complain of coldness of temperament, of deficiency in natural gifts; but you have within you a human soul. God's truth is within your reach. Grasp it, take it home to your bosoms, hold it there with an ever tightening pressure, and see what becomes of your icy frigidity, your stammering utterance. It is not to torrid climes, the effect of volcanic power is limited. It spouts the burning lava as well amid the glaciers of Iceland, as on the sunny plains of Mexico. And no minister of Christ, however torpid his sensibilities, can revolve his message, as he should revolve it, without its proving to him. what it did to the Prophet, "as a burning fire shut up in his bones till he is weary with forbearing."

As a concluding reason, I would name the importance of a meditative spirit as a spring of action. Many, indeed, consider a meditative and an active spirit, as inconsistent with each other, and that the cultivation of the former weakens the latter. This erroneous impression has probably arisen from that confounding of meditation with reverie, of which we have spoken. But if meditation be what we have defined it-the conscious, awakened mind, silently and intently communing with truth, there can be no greater error than to mistake for it that lethargic stupor, which has usurped its name. To think thus, implies activity, is itself activity of the highest order, and every outward enterprise of interest and moment must have from this its source and impulse. Fancy, pleasure and passion often move us powerfully, and promise great results; but their influence is uncertain and transient, and whatever depends upon them, must necessarily be of the

same nature.

The completion of every noble project for God's glory or man's good, lies far from the beginning, and never will be reached, unless something, far different from the effervesence of momentary impulse, urge onward. Truth alone is ever the same. Her principles are eternal, her power unchangeable; and he, who hath searched out her deep foundations, and planted there

immoveably, his foot, is the only man, who is prepared to do aught, which will really advance her interests. The reason we have so many visionary schemes, so much bustling pretension, now vexing and deluding the world, is that their authors are strangers in the school of meditation. They know nothing of their own hearts, nothing of the nature and wants of man, nothing of the appropriate remedies, by which the varied evils of his social state are reached and cured. Fill the world with these reformers, and with all their noisy activity, what is it benefitted? Can the fair temple of truth be reared by such unconsecrated hands? Are ignorance and folly competent leaders, when the mighty bulwarks of error are to be stormed? Who have been the men, where mighty moral energy has roused slumbering nations, and made after ages own them as benefactors? Uniformly those, who have come forth to their work from the solitude of deep meditation, who, by constant and absorbing communion, have not so much become possessed of, as possessed by, the truth; by whose inspiration they have had souls to dare, and hands to execute, deeds, at which the world stands astonished. Read the "Confessions of Augustine," learn the habits of intense contemplation which characterized Luther, Bunyan, Baxter and our own Edwards, and you will discover how it was these men of might girded themselves with such resistless strength. Why towers the giant oak to the skies, defying tempest and thunderbolt? Because in silence and in darkness, it hath by its strong roots and ten thousands fibres, with wide and deep embrace, grasped the firm foundations of the earth beneath. On this point we frequently misjudge. Much everywhere needs to be done. Loud calls summon us to the scenes of active life. We hastily obey, and, leaving our retirement, soon find ourselves so busily employed, that to revisit it seems impossible, and we postpone meditation to some future hoped for leisure. This leisure, like the horizon, flies ever before us, and we toil on until our hands become weary, our hearts dry within us, and our most

strenuous exertions, like water poured upon the desert. In this state, a gloomy despondency steals over the mind, and we almost complain, that while engaged in God's service we should be left so deserted and unblessed. But what wonder;-the day of miracles is past. Can we expect the streams to flow on, when the fountains are cut off? Can we expect inward strength, when we neglect the only means, by which God has ordained it? The spirit like the body must receive its appropriate food. Excessive toil increases, rather than diminishes, this necessity. To preach the truth, to labor for it, is not to feed upon it. Its power and quickening influence can be felt within us, only by constant and self-applying meditation, and never let us deem that time lost or mis-spent, in which we retire, even from the best of causes, to seek refreshment at the secret springs of strength and consolation. Our divine Master could certainly far better than we, dispense with such succor, and yet we find him preceding his ministry by forty days retirement in the wilderness, and, in the midst of his multiplied labors, ever and anon withdrawing to the desert and his loved Gethsemane.

Such are some of the considerations, that should incite us to cultivate a meditative spirit. Its claims could not well be stronger. Our own inward life, our success as ministers of the gospel, our efficiency in every department of Christian enterprise-all these we have seen depend upon it. As we value these momentous results, such should ever be our zeal and diligence in cherishing that, from which they spring. But were these reasons less numerous and weighty, we certainly should not lack incentives to this employment. Man was formed for contemplation. This is his distinguishing, glorious prerogative, his stamp of divinity, and he has been placed, where he may have full scope for its most vigorous exercise. Exhaustless themes lie within, around, above, beneath. Truth's sacred treasures, not only in the word, but through all the works of God everywhere, invite and reward his search. He who hath graciously styled himself the Father of our spirits,

while so abundantly providing for the body, hath not forgotten them, or limited them to the husks on which our baser nature feeds; no, he has prepared for them a birth-right blessing, food immortal, and spiritual like themselves, truth's eternal feast. It is meditation which opens the golden door and introduces to the banquet. What bidden guest will refuse to enter?

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE EARL OF DARTMOUTH.

[This is the nobleman, after whom Dartmouth College received its name. The following account of him was written and published, in the London Magazine for October, 1780, while his lordship was living.]

WILLIAM LEGGE, Earl of Dartmouth, Viscount Lewisham, and Baron Dartmouth, succeeded to the titles and estates of his grandfather William, the last earl, who died on the 15th of December, 1750; the father of the present Earl, George Lord Viscount Lewisham, dying many years before his father.

This noble family is descended from Signor de Lega, an Italian nobleman, who flourished in Italy towards the close of the thirteenth century. It is uncertain when the founder of the English family first settled in England; but as early as the year 1346, Thomas Legge, one of the ancestors, was Lord Mayor of London; and in 1353, was re-elected, and served in that high office, a second time. The residence of this gentleman in the country, was upon an estate called Legge's Place, near Tunbridge, in Kent. The first of the family, raised to the dignity of a peer, was Admiral Legge, great-grandfather to the present earl, who is the third peer. The admiral was created a peer by Charles II. on the 2nd of December, 1682, by the style and title of Baron Dartmouth, of Dartmouth in Devonshire, and in the spring following, he was appointed commander-in-chief of a powerful fleet sent to demolish Tangiers, on the coast of Africa, which service he effectually performed. In the reign of James II. he was in high favour; being made Master of the Horse, General of the Ordinance, Constable of the Tower, and admiral of the fleet intended to intercept the Dutch fleet, that conveyed the Prince of Orange to England; but the wind being contrary, he could not come up with the Dutch fleet, and the prince with his forces was safely landat Torbay. Some historians have asserted, that Lord Dartmouth, knowing that most of his officers secretly favored the cause of the Prince of

Orange, neglected his duty; but the famous Dr. Burnet, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, who was chaplain to the Prince of Orange, and on board his fleet, declares, that the Dutch fleet was so land-locked, that the gale had no effect upon it, while the English fleet was unable to keep the sea, and obliged to run into harbour for safety. It is likewise evident, that his lordship was considered by King William as a man zealously attached to James II., for as soon as the Revolution was accomplished, he was deprived of all his employments, and committed to the Tower, where he died on the 25th of October, 1698. His son was created Earl of Dartmouth, and Viscount Lewisham, by Queen Anne, on the 5th of September, 1711. The present Earl, his grandson, was born about the year 1730. His lordship received the first rudiments of education from the Rev. Mr. Fountaine, master of the academy at Marybone; from which place he was removed to Westminster school, and at a proper age was sent to one of the universities; but we are ignorant which of them had the honour of completing his education.

In 1755, his lordship married the sole daughter and heiress of the late Sir Charles Gunter Nicholl, Knight of the Bath, by whom he had issue, George Lord Viscount Lewisham, member in the last and the present parliament for Plymouth, and four other sons.

In 1757, his lordship was chosen Recorder of Litchfield; from this period to the year 1755, his attachment to letters, and to the endearments of domestic life, together with a pious turn of mind, seemed to have secluded him from the bustle of public life. When he was occasionally noticed, it was as an amiable private character, from principle favouring the sect of Methodists, to whom he has been a bountiful patron, and has built a chapel for his own use, and those of the neighborhood, who are of the same persuasion, at his seat on Blackheath.

When his late Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland was sent for, and consulted by his majesty about forming an administration, the Marquis of Rockingham, who was placed at the head of it, recommended Lord Dartmouth as a nobleman of great integrity, and a firm friend of the Constitution, to the very honorable office of First Lord of the Board of Trade and Plantations. His lordship at this time, it is said, broke through his own inclinations for a private life to oblige his noble friend, and accepted the office, to which he was appointed on the 20th of July, 1765, and was at the same time sworn in one of the Lords of the Privy-council. In this station he continued only till the month of August, 1766, when that short-lived administration was dismissed, and we do not find him in any employment again till the month of August, 1772, when his lordship became a member of the present administration, by