persons. Rationalism may be as dogmatical as the dogmatists whom it assails. Besides, these opinions are in the book before us dropped here and there, as if too well ascertained to be questioned, whereas all the points regarding the origin, age and credibility of the Biblical writings, should, as preliminary questions, have received a brief but pregnant discussion ere the historical narrative began. If Mr. Grote, in his "History of Greece," has spent too much time in attempting to distinguish and separate the historical from the legendary, this author has run into the opposite error of neglecting to weigh and estimate his materials. And we cannot but think that the mistake is the more to be lamented, because the opinions which he throws out on the subject are extreme.

On the origin of the Pentateuch, and specifically of Deuteronomy, he does indeed lay before the reader some reasons for the views he entertains (pp. 216, 317, 334, 335), but not till near the termination of the book; whereas questions involving that origin arise even in his preliminary chapter on the natural features of the surface of Palestine.

The reader may be curious to know what opinion is entertained by the author respecting the origin of Deuteronomy. We transcribe his words, abstaining from strictures thereon, lest on the expression of our dissent and surprise we should overstep the tone of moderation which befits the subject:

"During the same (Josiah's reign) period (it is almost certainly established by criticism), an important literary work had gone on under the auspices of Hilkiah, the chief priest,-the composition of a continuous rhetorical book, comprising all the most spiritual matters received as part of the law of Israel, in conjunction with the highest Levitical pretensions. This book is known among the moderns by the Greek name Deuteronomy, or the Repetition of the Law. How far the first four books of the Pentateuch may be said to have been now first composed, is a much-debated question, respecting which the historian can confidently affirm little. The arguments which avail to shew the recent origin of Deuteronomy, forbid us to imagine that the sacerdotal party of that day, however well intentioned, could feel any such hesitations and scruples as would affect even the commonest minds among ourselves, in compiling from mixed sources an authoritative and sacred book. When we know what a Cyprian and a Chrysostom thought of 'pious frauds,' and how greedily a Justin Martyr could snatch at Sibylline forgeries which helped a Christian advocate, it would be vain to expect our own standard of simplicity in an Hilkiah, or any clear-sighted criticism in the Jewish people. Nor is there the slightest ground for ascribing to Hilkiah and the priests around him any high or sensitive virtue beyond that of hating cruel and senseless idolatries. In the latter point, the most unscrupulous of the clergy of Europe who have ever attained public eminence, would vie with him; but nothing is more uncommon in public men than a delicate anxiety concerning the means which are to bring about good ends. "Pp. 317, 318; see also pp. 337 338

Before concluding, we invite the reader's attention to a passage or two which have afforded us unmixed satisfaction, and which exhibit the author in the light of a cultivated, well-informed and truly religious man. No less beautiful than true is the following:

"One sentiment the writer desires to express most emphatically. True religion consists in elevated notions of God, right affections and a pure conscience towards Him, but certainly not in prostrating the mind to a system of dogmatic history. Those who call this religion are (in the writer's belief) as much in the dark as those who place it in magical sacraments and outward purifications. But while utterly renouncing both these false and injurious representations, he

desires his book to carry on its front his most intense conviction that pure and undefiled religion is the noblest, the most blessed, the most valuable, of all God's countless gifts; that a heart to fear and love Him is a possession sweeter than dignities and loftier than talents; and that although the outward form of truths held sacred by good men is destined to be remodelled by the progress of knowledge, yet in their deeper essence there is a spirit which will live more energetically with the development of all that is most precious and most glorious in man."-Preface, p. vii.

We can give only another extract, of different but still very high merit, as presenting the results of ripe and extensive scholarship on several points of antiquarian and historical interest:

"Nineveh was situated on the eastern bank of the Tigris, near 600 miles in a straight line from the Persian Gulf, and therefore on a plain of some elevation; yet it is very low in comparison to the lofty country of the Kurds, whose snowy ridges and vast peaks rise at no great distance to the north of it. The modern town of Moosul marks its site approximately on the map. It is thus separated from Palestine by the whole breadth of Mesopotamia, of the Syrian desert, and the Damascene territory. The nucleus of the city was a town of extreme antiquity, whose name, like that of Babylon, peers through the clouds of legend. The native population is supposed to have talked a language deviating but moderately from that of Syria and Babylonia; yet this still remains to be decided, if possible, from a deciphering of the primitive monuments. According to others, the wild and hardy mountaineers to the north are the nearest relatives of the Asyrians, and the language was related to the old Persian, not to the Hebrew stock. The position of Nineveh was favourable to greatness, alike from the goodness of the soil, from the supply of water by the rivers which descend from the Kurdish mountains, and from the facility of water carriage down the Tigris. Its more remote pastures furnished an admirable supply of fine horses, and a warlike race of soldiers was at hand in the mountains. Hence from the earliest times, like other great cities on the plain of the Tigris and Euphrates, it rose to high prosperity; but (as far as can be conjectured) it was then a native kingdom only, not an empire. It may, indeed, have stretched its dominion northward over Armenia or southward over Babylon; this can neither be proved nor disproved, without new inscriptions or sculptures. But the tales reported to us by the Greeks of its wide-spread sway are evidently mere legends. We can only assert as beyond dispute, that this city commenced a new career of conquest from nine to eight centuries before the Christian æra. The first king who shewed himself as a conqueror to the eyes of Israel, was contemporaneous with the vulgar date of Romulus and Remus, and was named Pul by the Hebrews. At about the same time, a vast enlargement of the city of Nineveh was made, possibly by Pul himself. A prodigious oblong was enclosed by walls of enormous height and breadth, fortified by towers at fixed intervals. The few notices which survive to us of this city have so much in common with Babylon, as to inspire a suspicion that the description of the one has been transferred to the other; yet such transference would hardly have been possible if there had not been a general resemblance. The idea of both is that of a vast camp suddenly turned into a city. A regular plan is formed by a single mind, and its outline is executed at once, though the plan is so vast, that the parts are perhaps never filled up. This is what happens when a conquering monarch determines to have a large capital. His first work is to make the walls and main streets; to people it, is a more gradual affair. Meanwhile it encloses large tracts of field and orchard, assimilating it to a fortified country, and giving it immense resources of good, beyond what mere cities can have. In these respects new Nineveh, and, before long, new Babylon, were contrasted to the old cities which bore the same names, and which became, as it were, citadels to the enlarged capitals."

LIFE OF MRS. FRY.

GREAT injustice would be done to the true religious character of the present age, by any one who should confine his attention to its mere theological aspects. The effect of controversy has been to bring prominently into view the hard and rugged outlines of the different sects. There is now more than ever a wide-spread knowledge amongst the several denominations of the points whereat they clash. The spirit of sectarianism is, in short, more rife than of old. In this point of view, nothing can be less satisfactory than the religious aspects of the age. But, happily, a very different influence has been going on, concurrently with and corrective of this dogmatic intolerance. Men of every church have been learning and putting into practice the great lesson of humanity and brotherhood taught in the Gospel and exemplified by the Saviour. Thirty years and upwards of peace have allowed a whole generation to learn and apply the lesson; and, so far as England is concerned, it may be confidently said, that the progress and triumphs gained by Philanthropy during the last quarter of a century, are as precious as those of any previous century in its history.

Amongst many names belonging to this period that posterity will honour, not one will better deserve its reputation than that of Elizabeth Fry, hitherto chiefly known as the reformer of Newgate, but whose whole life was an exemplification of the religion of love taught by the Son of Man.

As Unitarians, we welcome the Memoir of this excellent woman as a lesson both of practical philanthropy unsurpassed in our own age, and of theological liberality. It is not possible to behold the beneficent toils of this good woman, endured in behalf of many different classes of the wretched, and to approach the inner temple of her mind, and see its purity and devotedness to God, without feeling whatever we have of selfishness and bigotry in our own souls chided and abashed. Her daughters have executed their task in a spirit of affectionateness and reverence. The faults of the book are such as might be anticipated from devoted filial attachment. It needed a less partial and a sterner judgment than we could wish the daughters of Elizabeth Fry to possess, to enable her biographers to cut down redundancies and cast aside trivialities, so as to preserve that alone which should instruct and interest the general reader. The consequence will be, that many will throw aside the volumes, wearied with the sameness and prolixity of the religious meditations, who might have been, under other circumstances, deeply interested in the narrative of her active life. Not that the utterances of her soul recorded in the journals are dull or commonplace; they have more of individuality than any that have fallen under our notice. No Memoir of Mrs. Fry could be intelligible, without a distinct portraiture of that inner life of which her recorded meditations are the devout and (we feel assured) most true expression. It is only by realizing to ourselves the fulness of religious sentiment in her heart, that we can explain the amazing benevolence of her life. Her philan

Memoir of the Life of Elizabeth Fry, with _Extracts from her Journal and Letters. Edited by Two of her Daughters. In 2 Volumes, 8vo. LondonCharles Gilpin. 1847 and 1848.

thropy was the outward and visible sign of her piety. For the sake of that numerous class amongst our readers who have not the opportunity of reading these bulky volumes, we will now attempt to give a concise memoir, now and then interposing a remark of our own, and making an occasional extract.

Elizabeth Fry, the daughter of John Gurney, of Earlham, in Norfolk, was born in Norwich, May 21, 1780. Both her parents were hereditary members of the Society of Friends. But they were not "plain Friends" (as the Quaker phrase has it); they associated freely with persons of various denominations, and with some of no religious denomination at all. They and their family appear to have partaken of many of the pleasures and amusements of life, to a degree that would even now be remarkable in persons wearing the Quaker garb. Elizabeth, in her early youth, was not exempt from feminine vanities and the love of gay apparel, as her scarlet riding habit and her "smart boots, purple laced with scarlet," may attest. Oratorios, dances, theatres and the opera, were, at this period, not unknown to her.

Earlham is a beautiful house and park (it was once the seat of Recorder Bacon) about three miles from Norwich. During the early youth of Elizabeth Gurney and her two elder sisters, Earlham was constantly lighted up by cheerful hospitality, intellectual enjoyment and refined pleasure. There were to be seen, as frequent guests, members of the families of Enfield, Taylor and Alderson. The biographers make some indistinct allusions to the heretical associates of Mrs. Fry's early days. The following passage indicates the nature of the heresy to which they refer:

"There was something of mysticism among the Quakers of that day, and by no means the clear and general acknowledgment of the doctrine of the Trinity in Unity' as revealed in the New Testament, which is now to be met with amongst the greater part of the Society of Friends.' To the present time, that expression, as designating the Deity, is not in use among them, from its not being found in the Bible. The family of Mr. Gurney, thus left to their own resources, unaccustomed to the study of the Scriptures, and with no other sources from which to learn, for a time were permitted to 'stumble upon the dark mountains, seeking rest and finding none.""-I. 14.

The biographers add, that "great pain and bitter disappointment resulted" from their connection with persons tainted with "the prevailing errors of the day," and intimate that Elizabeth Gurney profited by the experience thus gained. We believe she did, but in a way very different from that supposed by her biographers. Her early and affectionate intimacy with Roman Catholics, Unitarians and members of the Church of England, probably helped to preserve her catholicity of feeling in later periods of her life, when her religious views became defined and dogmatic. When the circle at Earlham became devoted to what is popularly called "Evangelical" religion, a painful change came over their social relations. The literati of Norwich were excluded, and their place supplied by evangelical clergymen and travelling missionaries. The exclusiveness of that portion of society which calls itself " the religious world," is in strange contrast to the example set by the great Master of Christians.

In her thirteenth year, Elizabeth lost her mother, who was a kind and judicious parent and a woman of cultivated talent. She left a large

family, eleven children (of whom Elizabeth was the third). Her early developments of character indicated decision (which the injudicious perhaps called obstinacy), but no remarkable aptitude for learning. She was liable to paroxysms of fear, which sometimes came over her when she was in the dark or was undergoing sea-bathing. Very early she commenced the instruction of the children of the poor and visits of mercy to the afflicted. When 18 years of age, she went daily "to see poor Bob, a servant in a decline, living at a cottage in the Park." Her first religious impressions were derived from her mother; but, in her fifteenth year, her mind was assailed by Deistical suggestions. Strange to say, the young people at Earlham were led to the great doctrines of Christianity by the earnest influence of Mr. Pitchford, a Catholic neighbour. But what, in the religious phraseology of orthodox sects, is called her conversion, she owed to the preaching of an American Friend, named William Savery, who visited Norwich in 1798. The results were both evident and powerful. "From that day her love of pleasure and the world seemed gone." An incident attended her conversion which not unnaturally made a deep impression on her mind. She had been for some time painfully subject to dreams of a distressing character, fancying herself, especially, washed away by the sea, in imminent danger of drowning.

"After I had gone on in this way for some months, William Savery came to Norwich. I had begun to read the Testament with reflections of my own, and he suddenly, as it were, opened my eyes to see religion; but again they almost closed. I went on dreaming the dream. That day when I felt I had really and truly got true and real faith, that night I dreamed the sea was coming as usual to wash me away; but I was beyond its reach, beyond its power to wash me away. Since that night I do not remember having dreamed that dream."

Reflection in after life made her regard this symbolical dream as very "odd;" as, in short, a supernatural declaration from heaven that she should not be drowned in the ocean of the world, but permitted to mount above its waves. To our mind, the oddity is, that one whose theological system made her professedly so familiar with "the work of the Spirit," should have regarded this supposed supernatural visitation with peculiar wonder. This is one of those practical incongruities between opinion and practice, in which the religious world abounds. We need scarcely observe, that mental philosophy will, by the aid of the law of the association of ideas, explain Elizabeth's frequent dreams of terror and her dream of ransom. Previously to her reception of deep and abiding religious influences, her mind felt a want, and in its unoccupied and comfortless state gave ready access to the feelings which her childish terror of the sea had awakened. Dreams, especially those of a painful kind, often occupy the waking thoughts, and the trains of thought then put into activity are often reproduced in the hours of sleep. The entire possession which religious conviction took of her soul after hearing the American Friend, kept off the accustomed dream of distress. Meditation on this circumstance, in that semi-conscious state, so favourable to dreams, between waking and sleeping, occasioned the combination of ideas which appeared to her to be a promise in vision of "grace to help in time of need."

Elizabeth's conformity to the speech, dress and usages of the straiter