Reader! To-day is yours, to-morrow is uncertain; but if it dawns upon you, say to all around you, COME. Parent! say to your child, COME. Man of business! say to those in your employ. COME. Young man! say to your friends and companions, COME. Citizen! say to the stranger, COME. Christian go out into the streets and alleys, and say to the poor, and the blind, and the halt, COME AND WELCOME There is room for all. Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation. O the joyful sound. COME; let him that is athirst come, and take of the water of life freely. JAMES THOMSON, AND WILLIAM THOMPSON. THE above gentlemen were both poets. The only difference in their surname is that of a single letter. The omission, or the addition of a letter to a word may seem a mere trifle, and yet the result has been serious, and sometimes very ludicrous. We have no doubt but any editor of a Magazine, or any literary man, could furnish a most laughable chapter of printers' blunders, that have come under his own observation. Sometimes however these omissions, or additions, or changes are made by editors, or compilers, or writers of books, either through ignorance, or carelessness. But from whatever cause, these blunders cannot be made without injury to some party. These remarks have been suggested by finding the following lines, in a volume of selections from the British Poets,* attributed to James Thomson, THE MORNING LARK. Feather'd lyrie, warbling high, These verses, attributed to J. Thomson, in the book referred to, really belong to W. Thompson. The fact of these lines not being thought unworthy the author of The Seasons is, though unintentionally, one of the highest praises which could be awarded to the real author. As W. Thompson is not generally known, a few facts in regard to him, and another specimen or two of his poetry may not be uninteresting to our readers. He was born about 1712-the exact date is not known. His father was the Rev. Francis Thompson, B D., senior fellow of Queen's College, Oxford, and thirty-two years vicar of Brough in Westmoreland. After passing through the usual course of elementary training, W. Thompson entered Queen's College, Oxford. He took the degree of M A. in February 1738. Entering into holy orders he was presented to the rectory of South Weston and Hampton Pyle in Oxfordshire. Soon after this he was seized by the small-pox. On his recovery from this painful disease he wrote his principal poem, called Sickness. It is in five books, and in blank verse. *Published by direction of the Commissioners of National Education in Ireland. In the last book he thus expresses his gratitude for his restoration to health: A neighbour of the worms!) when I forget When indolent to swell the notes for thee, The subject of this poem would repel many, but we conceive that no lover of genuine poetry could read it without interest or profit. Its strong and beautiful thoughts are numerous. Take the following as a specimen of the former, In health we have no time to visit truth: As a specimen of the latter take this,— A Christian soul is God's beloved house; Again, in regard to Friendship. Her fetters are a strong defence; her chains A robe of glory; Ophir gold her bands; And he who wears them, wears a crown of joy. Health is disease, life death, without a friend. Among his other poems is a Hymn to May, a professed imitation of Spenser, and which, as one of his critics remarks, "in opulence of imagery, brilliancy of colouring, distinctness and propriety of attribute, and harmony of numbers, challenges every modern production,* and rivals, if not surpasses everything of the kind even in Spenser, from whom he caught his inspiration." The time of W. Thompson's death is uncertain. It was probably between 1760 and 1770. As our chief object in this notice of one of England's minor bards was to correct the mistake referred to above, and to call attention to the merits of one who is comparatively unknown, and as we think the few remarks made are sufficient for this purpose we will add no more, excepting a few lines on the Holy Bible, and which we would that our young friends would write in theirs. The lines are by W. Thompson and headed WRITTEN IN THE HOLY BIBLE. Ye sacred tomes, be my unerring guide, *This was written in 1794. Like Moses'-bush each leaf divinely bright, TOO FAST. EVERY age has its characteristics. The distinguishing feature of some has been a spirit of strife and controversy. Such was the fourth century; another, that of Luther and his followers; another, that of Wesley, Fletcher, Edwards, and their associates. But such is not the present. Since Napoleon's star set, there have been no protracted wars, and the earth in this respect has enjoyed comparative rest and quiet. So also in the political world there have been no very great revolutions and changes. True, France has turned one or two somersets, but it does not take her long to recover her normal position. The inroads of Britain upon the East, and of our own nation upon the South, are but a progressive development of inevitable causes. So also of theology-the fierce and angry disputes of former times have subsided, aud mutual forbearance, toleration, and charity largely taken their place. The tendency of some ages is to quietism and formality. Such were those usually termed the "dark ages," and some also not so dark. With such, there must be no agitation or novelty, but everything must proceed in the old beaten track. The old English stock partook largely of this character, and their Puritan descendants, who founded most of the North American colonies, followed closely their example. This quietist, conserva. tive spirit, especially in the breasts of good men, has many excellencies, but it is not without its faults. If we were to describe the character of the present age by a single word, that word would be fast. It is an age of fast politicians-the fastest is supposed to stand the best chance of success; fast merchants-and if such run off the tract occasionally and get smashed. they are soon on again in as good trim as ever; fast speculators, making fortunes, plenty of fast young men; fast horses, fast machinery, fast medicines, fast inventions and improvements, and so on to the end, if end there be. The current religion does not fail to partake of the same character. There are fast churches, that make astonishing advances, unknown to any but themselves; outstripping all their sisters, aud so elevated, that it is about impossible to find a minister suitable for them anywhere. Yet fast ministers are not wanting; but the misfortune is that the fast minister is often as far ahead of the church, as the church is of him. Everything must be fast, new, dashing, marvellous. If one stops for usages, proprieties, even decencies; he is prosy, an old fogy, and a bore. Everything, even within the precincts of the sanctuary, must conform to the hurry, rage, and turmoil without. But a fast age may be too fast, and while religion will conform so far as it properly can to the spirit of the age, there is a point beyond which it will not, cannot go. Truth, right, principle are ever the same, and these can never be sacrificed to any reckless innovation. We are not to settle back to an opposite extreme of defiance; but we should see in such times that our foundation is on the rock, and our course directed by the light from above. Review. THE EIGHTEEN CHRISTIAN CENTURIES. By REV. JAMES WHITE. Foolscap 8vo., cloth, pp. 511. Edinburgh and London: Blackwood and Sons. 1858. THE world has grown apace since the beginning of the present era, and to christianity we must look for the explanation. There is no previous time with which it can be compared. There is none to show change so marked, none to indicate progress so certain, none on which to ground hope so glorious. The germs of the future are in the past; and how those germs will grow history can best declare. Of one thing we are well persuaded, that, wars, failures, flagrant and unblushing immoralities notwithstanding, there never was more evident indication of the dawn of brighter days than now. The indirect influence of christianity was never so great. The average of christian professors to the population was never so large. Their organizations were never so numerous. There liberality was never so spontaneous. Their zcal rarely so active. With stronger faith in God's truth, and in the winsomeness and power of Christ's love, the church would very soon advance to the conquest of the world. God give his people both, and that right early! For It is the purpose of the book on our table to give in miniature the past eighteen centuries. The plan is good. It seeks to present the main features of each century, so that the "form and body of the time" may stand palpably before us. With what success this plan has been filled up, opinions will differ. Those who are disposed to carp at minor defects, will pronounce the whole beneath notice. But such as honestly regard the author's intent, will heartily thank him for his labour. In drawing, the artist first sketches an outline. After touches fill up the picture. In the portraits of the centuries given by Mr. White, we have just these first outlines. The detail and colour must be supplied by other hands. There are few books, however, more readable, and few that will convey a more faithful portraiture of the centuries of the christian era. those whose business leaves but little leisure, and who are naturally desirous of turning that little to the best account, we have no hesitation in cordially recommending the volume before us. It is no very difficult task, as Mr. White suggests, to become familiar with the features and expression of eighteen friends, so as to distinguish the one from the other, and say what is characteristic of each. So we may judge of the eighteen centuries behind. They each have an individuality. "Let us look at the first century. Through the civilized world there is nothing but Rome. Under whatever form of government-under consuls, or triumvirs, or dictators, that wonderful city was mistress of the globe. Her internal dissensions had not weakened her power. While her streets were running with the blood of her citizens, her eagles were flying triumphant in farther Asia and on the Rhine. Her old constitution had finally died off almost without a blow, and unconsciously the people, still talking of Cato and Brutus, became accustomed to the yoke. For seven-and-twenty years they had seen all the power of the state concentrated in one man; but the names of the offices of which their ancestors had been so proud, were retained; and when Octavius, the nephew of the conqueror Julius Caesar, placed himself above the law, it was only by uniting in his own person all the authority which the law had created. He was consul, tribune, prætor, pontifex, imperator-whatever denomination conferred dignity and power, and by the legal exercise of all these trusts he had no rival and no check. He was finally presented by the senate with the lofty title of Augustus, which henceforth had a mysterious significance as the seal of imperial greatness, and his commands were obeyed without a murmur from the Tigris to the Tyre. But whilst in the enjoyment of this pre-eminence, the 1 oman emperor was unconscious that in a village of Judea, in the lowest rank of life, among the most contemned tribe of his dominions, his Master was born. ly this event the whole current of the world's history was changed. The great became small, and the small great. Rome itself ceased to be the capital of the world, for men's eyes and hearts, when the wonderful story came to be known, were turned to Jerusalem. From her, commissioned emissaries were to proceed with greater powers than those of Roman prætors or governors. From her gates went forth Peter and John to preach the gospel. Down her steep streets rode Paul and his companions, breathing anger against the church, and ere they reached Damascus, behold, the eyes of the persecutor were blinded with lightning, and his understanding illuminated with the same fash; and henceforth he proceeds, in lowliness and humility, to convey to others the glad tidings that had been revealed to himself. Away in all directions, but all radiating from Jerusalem, travelled the messengers of the amazing dispensation. Everywhere -in all centuries-in all regions, we shall encounter the results of their ministry; and as we watch the swelling of the mighty tide, first of christian faith and then of priestly ambition, which overspread the fairest portion of the globe, we shall wonder more and more at the apparent powerlessness of its source, and at the vast effects for good and evil which it has produced upon mankind. What were they doing at Rome during the thirty-three years of our Saviour's sojourn upon earth? For the first fourteen of them, Augustus was gathering round him the wits, and poets, and sages, who have made his reign immortal. After that date, his successor, Tiberius, built by stealthy and slow degrees the most dreadful tyranny the world has every seen a tyranny the results of which lasted long after the founder of it had expired. For from this period mankind had nothing to hope but from the bounty of the emperor It is humiliating to reflect, that the history of the world for so long a period consists of the deeds and dispositions of the successive rulers of Rome. All men, whatever their country, or whatever their position, were dependent in greater or less degree for their happiness or misery upon the good or bad temper of an individual man. If he was cruel, as so many of them were, he filled the patricians of Rome with fear, and terrified the distant inhabitants of Thrace or Gaul. His benevolence, on the other hand, was felt at the extremities of the earth. No wonder that every one was on the watch for a new emperor's character and disposition. What rejoicings in Italy and Greece, and Africa, and all through Europe, when trait of goodness was reported; and what a sinking of the heart, when the old story was renewed, and a monster of cruelty succeeded to a monster of deceit! For the fearfullest thing in all the descriptions of Tiberius is, the duplicity of his behaviour. He withdrew to an island in the sunniest part of the Mediterranean, and covered it with gorgeous buildings, and supplied it with all the implements of luxury and enjoyment. From this magnificent retirement he uttered a whisper, or made a motion with his hand, which displaced an Eastern monarch from his throne, or doomed a senator to death. He was never seen. He lived in the dreadful privacy of some fabled deity, and was only felt at the farthest ends of his empire by the unhappiness he occasioned; by his murders, and imprisonments, and every species of suffering, men's minds were bowed down beneath this invisible and irresistible oppressor. Self-respect was at an end, and liberty was not even wished for. The emperor had swallowed up the empire, and there was no authority or influence beside. This is the main feature of the first or imperial century, that wherever we look we see but one-one gorged and bloated, brutalised man, sitting on the throne of earthly power, and all the rest of mankind at his fcet. Humanity at its flower had culminated into a Tiberius; and when at last he was slain, and the world began to breathe, the sorrow was speedily deeper than before, for it was found that the imperial tree had blossomed again, and that its fruit was a Caligula." Who can wonder, when such was the general character of the men, that of the first twelve Cæsars only two died a natural death? The second century presents a change of expression, while the main features are unaltered. Rome is still the centre; but the central power is beneficent and wise, although in Severus it seemed again to go back. "Be generous to the soldiers, and trample on all beside," were the last words of the emperor to his sons, Geta and Caracalla. In the third century we see utter confusion and |