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this a well-known fact,” we assure her it is but the natural consequence of the moral training, or rather no training, of children in that section of the Christian community to which every other page of her book shows that she herself belongs. Hydropathy : the Theory, Principles, and Practice of the Water Cure, with Cases. By EDWARD JOHNSON, M.D., Author of “Life, Health, and Disease.” One vol. 12mo. London:

Simpkin, Marshall, and Co. This book is evidently intended for the multitude, and not for the profession of which its author is a member. It is written with much tact, to promote the views and interests of those men especially engaged in the Therapeutic novelty, “ the cold water cure," but with the same morbid zeal which too often inflames the minds of men won over to a new nostrum—they look through a prejudiced medium at its merits, permit their imaginations to run wild, and are hurried on beyond the pale of their calm and better judgment to false conclusions. We are far from refusing to Hydropathy, when curtailed of its extravagances, its meed of praise, or to Dr. E. Johnson all that is due to him for his talent and industry evidenced in the work before us, but his cases are badly defined, and may mislead the careless reader. Other practitioners in Therapeutics, for whose more established practice Dr. E. Johnson seems to have too little respect, will see at once his case headed “Consumption” (page 41) bears no evidence of its being that disease ; and it will be equally evident to them that the one headed “ Baldness" (page 57) must have been a very uncommon case of “Porrigo Decalia,” and not what is generally understood by baldness: hence the former may mislead the anxious consumptive patient to false hopes, expense, and fatal treatment--whilst the latter

may

induce some of those with hairless scalps and weak enclosures to run to Germany to get new fledged.

Many of the “cures” are, we must admit, very startling to us, especially that of “hernia,” which depends on a mechanical imperfection in structure; and we should have looked for as readily the sprouting out of new arms and legs from the human trunk, under the vegetating influence of water, as the cure of this calamity; but trusting to the discrimination of the public, as their best guard against a useless journey to Grafenburg, and congratulating Dr. E. Johnson on the advantages he himself has derived from Hydropathy, we leave his work to struggle for a while on the billows of public opinion, to find a place at last on the shelf, from which, after the lapse of a few years, and the natural death of the hydro-mania, we do not think its author will be disposed to remove it.

The Old Church Clock. By RICHARD PARKINSON, B.D.,

Canon of Manchester. London: J. G. F. and J. Rivington.

Second Edition. 1844. In the little volume before us we are introduced more intimately to one whose memory has been immortalized by Wordsworth, in his beautiful sonnets « On the River Duddon we mean the Rev. Robert Walker, of Seathwaite. The work abounds with interesting and entertaining passages in the life and experience of that useful and devoted parish priest. The primitive simplicity of his life and manners—the affection and zeal with which he discharged the duties of pastor, husband, and parent, are clearly and forcibly illustrated in this little history, which we have much pleasure in commending to our readers.' His character is thus described in the Introduction ;

“ Though he dressed so plainly, though his manners were so simple, and his mode of life so laborious, yet his parishioners loved and respected him. Indeed, who would not have loved such an amiable character ? Ever ready to oblige, and studious to promote their good, he lived amongst those favoured people, himself blessed and happy in their affection, for the uninterrupted space of sixty-seven years, daily ministering to their necessities, and multiplying their enjoyments."

We regret that want of space precludes us from quoting the work at any length; one or two passages must suffice. The following description of the manner in which the psalmody was conducted in the romantic little chapel at Seathwaite is very inspiriting :

“ There was no praising God by deputy...... No, sir! every man, woman, and child sung for themselves lustily, and with a right good will

. They sung the air in a minor key, as is always the case among the inhabitants of mountain districts-perhaps because they learn to pitch their notes to the echoes of their native valleys; but it had from that circumstance a more solemn and devotional effect. It was taken up by those without the doors with the same zeal as by those withiin, for all knew the air as familiarly as their own names. Here was a strict compliance with David's precept, · Young men and maidens, old men and children, praise ye the Lord.' The mighty sound rushed down the vale of Ulpha like the bursting of a mountain cataract ; nor, for aught I can tell, was it checked in its onward course till it had scaled the heights of the surrounding mountains, and died away at last in a gentle whisper, on the lonely summit of Black Comb! Died away, did I say? Forgive me, sir, the lowly thought! Far higher than the cliffs of Helvellyn did that holy psalm ascend; nor stayed it in its upward

ght till it approached, as a memorial of sweet incense, the throne of God, there to be heard again when earthly sound shall be no more !"

In the concluding part of the Introduction, the reverend author, taking a brief review of the fruits of this “good man’s". labours, says

“ Schools, public institutions, vast parishes, rural districts, are now feeling the impulse towards sound and good principles which was first impressed on a narrow domestic circle by the hand of Robert Walker ; and the sphere of his influence is still enlarging itself with every revolving year, and every successive descendant added to this righthearted brotherhood. What a light does this fact throw upon the true reasons why our beloved country still maintains its ground among the nations, as to power and morality, notwithstanding the painful appearances of disorder and almost disorganization which its external surface too often exhibits! We do not see the strong under-girdings by which, in the shape of pious tradition from holy fathers to obedient children, the whole framework of the Church in this country is held together; and how faith and piety are pervading the very centre of our strength, while to outward appearance they may seem almost in a state of absolute dissolution. Would, therefore, that the history of our parish priesthood could be written! for it is around their firesides that at least the embers of national and religious faith and fidelity have in all ages been kept ever burning!"

And what a blessing it would be to our dear native land if the like spirit animated the great body of our clergy at the present day. Many there are, particularly amongst the younger members, who are following, and laying great stress upon, primitive customs and usages: we would point them to Robert Walker, a pattern of primitive and apostolic simplicity, as worthy their imitation, and would say, “Go and do thou likewise;" and you will then better understand wherein consists the true dignity of the priesthood. Robert Walker died the 25th June, 1802, at the advanced age of ninety-three. In the words of his biographer

“ He went to bed about twelve o'clock the night before he died. As his custom was, he went, tottering and leaning on his daughter's arm, to examine the heavens and meditate a few minutes in the open air. • How clear the moon shines to-night!' He said these words, sighed, and lay down. At six next morning he was found a corpse. Many a tear, and many a heavy heart, and many a grateful blessing followed him to the grave.”

Such was Robert Walker in his life and in his death. May each one who reads his brief history strive to imitate his usefulness, and to attain unto the like most holy fạith, “ perfecting holiness in the fear of God.” “ Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace.”

6. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !

The Child's Book of Homilies. By a MEMBER OF THE CHURCH

OF ENGLAND. London : Edwards and Hughes. 1844. Great and many are the instructional advantages which the children of this generation enjoy over their fathers. Not many years ago it was thought necessary to address children in language little less silly than the babble of Juliet's nurse, and sacred subjects were handled with an irreverent familiarity, to suit, forsooth, juvenile capacities. This was a grievous error, and we welcome every

fresh

attempt, on the part of those engaged in the education of youth, to repair it. We consider the little work before us as a successful effort in this direction. The author endeavours to make grave scriptural themes acceptable to childhood, by connecting them with the sunshine, the flowers, the streams of every-day life, and to each of his little homilies has appended verses on the subject propounded, of eminent beauty. We give one, taken almost at random, as a specimen. The subject is Our Lord in the Temple, when he went up with his parents to Jerusalem. Middle-aged men and women, who remember the nursery rhymes of their childhood, will be forcibly struck with the contrast presented thereto, by the following beautiful yet simple ballad strain :

66 God's house in fair Jerusalem
Was rich with cedar, gold, and gem-
A marvel of the ancient days,

To all the land a pride and praise.
A pile upon mount Zion's brow,

Of marble, white as falling snow,
With golden turrets many a one

Flashing beneath the noon-day sun.
“There spotless lamb and soft-eyed dove
Were slain before the Lord above;
Showing how Christ our hope should die

On the sad cross of Calvary.
« All sons of Israel, year by year,
Unto that holy place drew near,
And Christ came up a little child-

And on its gold and glory smil'd.
“ He came-His own received him not,
They scorned Him for his lowly lot;
Although for Christ, for Christ alone,
Men piled that temple, stone on stone.
“ For Christ their daily offerings died,
And yet the priests swept by in pride,
Nor saw the Lord of all things fair
Was kneeling with the meanest there.

« God's holy place we build not now
As it was built on Zion's brow;
Our wintry storms would fret and wear

The yellow gold, the marble fair.
“ Yet many a house of prayer we have

Where help and hope of Christ we crave :
A thousand hills, a thousand dells,

Make answer to our Sabbath-bells.
“Go up, go up, beloved child !

Through village, lane, and wood-path wild :
Go up unto the place of prayer,
And Christ the Lord will bless thee there.
“No flashing gem, no yellow gold,
In the dim church wilt thou behold;
But God's own words of truth may be
As goodly pearls, my child, to thee.
“The bleeding lamb thou wilt not find,

Yet go, and with a lowly mind;
Servants of God will teach thee then
How Christ was slain for sinful men.

with joy, beloved one!
Go

up beneath the Sabbath sun!
The holy child of Galilee
In his own temple bowed the knee.”

« Go up

The Young Composer ; or, Progressive Exercises in English

Composition. By James CORNWELL, Joint Author of Allen and Cornwell's “ School Grammar," &c. London : Simpkin

and Marshall. 1844. Part I. We are somewhat sceptical as to the feasibility of teaching the art of composition at schools; but this may be, we confess it, an old-fashioned prejudice, inasmuch as in our school-days boys were ordered to compose themes and verses, and were flogged or scolded when they failed. They were required to learn the art of composition—they were rarely, if ever, taught the art. Mr. Cornwell says his attempt to teach this art is the first of its kind, and we think it a happy one. We hope, however, that Mr. Cornwell will not augment the multitude of writers, who, according to him, must all have been self-taught. The old system has produced writers in abundance, and, let scoffers stand apart, good ones too. Let any competent judge of a powerful pen turn to the leading article of the Times for March 20, upon Lord Ashley's amendment, and then turn to those pages of Addison to which Dr. Johnson referred all students of English composition, as models for their imitation; and, lastly, ask himself whether any novel method of instruction is needed to teach the present generation the art of composition.

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