Elinor, her father, and mother, used often to go out of an evening on the gulf; and while her father was conversing on the beauties of nature-a tear would often steal down the face of that affectionate girl, as she beheld the haggard looks of her parent; and as she wept, those beautiful lines of Montgomery would often come into her mind.

Lord of all Being! where can fancy fly,

To what far realms, unmeasured by thine eye?
Where can he hide beneath thy blazing sun,

Where dwell'st Thou not, the boundless, viewless One?
Shall guilt couch down within the caverns's gloom,
And quivering, groaning, meditate her doom?

Or scale the mountains, where the whirlwinds rest,
And in the night-blast cool her fiery breast?
Within the cavern-gloom Thine eye can see,
The sky-clad mountains lift their heads to Thee!
Thy Spirit rides upon the thunder storms,
Darkening the skies with their terrific forms!
Beams in the lightning, rocks upon the seas,
Roars in the blast, and whispers in the breeze;
In calms, in storm, in Heaven, in earth, Thou art!

Trace but Thy works, They bring Thee to the heart.

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46

The family party had been some time on the water listening to the oars of the gondolier, when Mr. Delaney thought it time to return. On their arrival at home, Mrs. Delaney and her daughter were shocked to see the rapid alteration that was taking place in Mr. Delaney's appearance. They pressed him to tell them whether he felt ill, but he answered them with a placid smile, I am as well, my dears, as a man who is in a dying state can be." They were overwhelmed with grief to hear him speak in this mournful manner, and begged him to let them send for a medical man. "No, my dears," replied he, "I feel that earthly aid is of no avail. Christ is the only physician to whom I can flee for succour.' "Ah, my dear husband," said Mrs. Delaney, true indeed is what you say concerning the mercy of Christ, yet I hope you will be spared to be a blessing and comfort to your family. Without you, God only knows what we should do." Mrs. Delaney and Elinor wept. "Go to Christ, my dear, pray to him to assist you in this trying hour," said Mr. Delaney. "He is a father to the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widow." After conversing for some time Elinor left, and retired to her room for the night. In the night her father was taken seriously ill; he seemed anxious to speak to them, yet could with difficulty give utterance to his words. "God protect you, my dear wife," at length said he, "and bring you at length to the place whither I am hastening. Your situation is desolate, I allow, but put your trust in God, who will protect those that diligently seek him. Oh! my dear wife, I have much to tell you, but have not time to say all, regarding our dearest Elinor; when you return to England, procure some kind friend who will assist you in instructing her, and introducing her to good and pious people. I feel that I am going, I felt so last night on those tranquil waters -while on the gulf. I thought I could see heaven before me, and the angels tuning their harps to sing Hallelujahs to the Lamb of God. What

holy thoughts does beautiful scenery excite! I thought I could willingly give up this world, and only regretted leaving it because of Elinor and yourself. God keep you both. Remember me to my parishioners, among whom I trust you will return and live." Elinor glanced up in her father's face, and could too plainly see that the vital spark was extinct. It was too much for her, and she fell senseless at her mother's feet. Mrs. Delaney fearing the consequences that might ensue, hastily called up a servant, and tried to restore Elinor by every means in her power. She chafed her hands-called on her, and besought her to speak, applied suitable remedies and at length restored her to partial animation. In a few minutes she recovered, but her wild and bewildered looks too clearly told Mrs. Delaney that any more excitement might be fatal. She carried her to her own room, and tried to restore her to quiet and composure. But this was not the work of a day, it was some weeks before her accustomed smile was visible in her countenance. But thankful was Mrs. Delaney that it did come at last. Her father was buried about a hundred yards from where they lived, and Elinor, though extremely ill at that time, and warned by the physician not to attempt it, persisted in following his last remains to the grave. The service was read by a resident Protestant minister, and almost overcame her. But she received comfort from these words, "For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed." She saw at length the remains of her beloved parent lowered into the grave. “He rests in peace, said she, I will not repine. He has left this wicked world, and all its snares and trials. Mrs. Delaney was as much affected with the imposing scene as her daughter. They remained in Venice after this period only for a short time. Time lessened but did not efface their grief. They often went, accompanied by a Venetian friend, an excellent man, on the gulf. Elinor would view the beauties around her in sad silence. There was, however, a pleasure interspersed with her melancholy, which was pleasing. The splashing of the seas, and the view around them of the splendid palaces delighted them all. The songs of the various gondoliers was inspiring, as they glided along the still water. And Mrs. Delaney would say to her daughter, while beholding everything around her,-"Can there be such a thing as sin in this lovely place? The time at length arrived when they thought of quitting Venice, and returning home. Home did I say? Yes home, but what an unhappy home was that, to recall to them the remembrance of one so dear to them! When they arrived there it was eveningElinor wept when former scenes pressed themselves on her mind. She recognized one or two of her old acquaintance, and they caught sight of her. They ran up to the house, and assisted them in alighting from the carriage. "Where is Mr. Delaney," (said one grey-headed old man,) "is he walking up the hill, as he always used, instead of driving up to the door in the carriage." "Is he better, Ma'am," said another. "He's no more," whispered Elinor, and went quietly into the house,-she felt she should have fainted if she had staid longer. The recollection of her beloved father, and of his custom of walking up the hill, deeply affected her. Such emotions were natural enough to her on returning to her native place, after an absence of two years, and leaving behind them one who had always been the participator of their every comfort. Her father's parishioners were inconsolable at their loss. The idea that another man, of whom they knew nothing, should as it were usurp the office, nay, even the house of their dear departed

minister, shocked them. "His poor wife and child," said they, "will be turned from their home, and have to seek another elsewhere."-"God grant however that they will not quit the village." They were however mistaken in their supposition, for the house belonged to Mrs. Delaney. Elinor and her mother remained for a few nonths, without seeing any one, but they thought it foolish and wicked not to exert themselves, and therefore determined to stay with their friends for a short time. They were much shocked at the worldly and unfeeling remarks they met with from some people. One person, whom they were staying with, said, she regretted much the loss of Mr. Delaney, but surely they ought to forget it now, that his life was not to be called back. "I suppose," said they, "you will part with your horses, since your income must be considerably diminished; if so, I hope to have the first offer, as one of mine has gone lame. To all these thoughtless, but cruel remarks, Mrs. Delaney answered with meekness, fully shewing her Christian and benevolent disposition. They went afterwards to stay with some friends, who like themselves were pious people, and Elinor there formed an attachment with a young man, who was every thing her mother could wish. And Mrs. Delaney was at length happy in seeing her beloved and beautiful daughter married to a man, in every way calculated to make her happy. Her departed father had long wished that at some future time, Elinor and this young man should be united, although as yet he had not introduced her into society. His wishes were accomplished, and they became a happy couple; always having Christian and contented minds. They lived for years together with Mrs. Delaney, trusting to him who has said, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you."

REGINALD.

PURITAN PERSECUTIONS.

NO. XXII..-THE HORRIBLE CRUELTY SHEWN TOWARDS MR. R. CLARK, HIS CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN, AND TOWARDS MR. T. CLARK AND HIS

SON.

THE Reverend Roger Clark was rector of Totber in Devonshire; and in consequence of the smallness of the living-being about 40l. a-year-he was not sequestered from it, although he always used the Book of Common Prayer; but he was once barbarously treated by the rebel-party, and the account was sent to Dr. Walker in these words: "In the time of Penruddock's rising [to attempt the restoration of Charles II.] Mr. Dewey of Blocksford, in the county of Dorset, and one Baker surrounded Mr. Clark's house about midnight, with a company of foot and troop of horse, in order to take his son Hancock. Upon notice of which, Hancock leaped out of a back-window into the midst of the horse in the orchard, with his drawers, shirt, and one stocking on; and being set upon, he, with an iron-pin of an axle, gave Dewey a very dangerous blow; and the rest, heing in the dark, were struck off their horses by a limb of an apple-tree. Hancock escaped to one Mr. Nicholas, rector of Stawell, in Somersetshire. Then, the doors being opened, the rebels took the said Roger Clark the father, and bound him neck and heels, at the age of seventy, till the blood came forth of his eyes, and carried him immediately to Sturmister-Newtoncastle, in Dorsetshire; and not confessing anything of his son's design, they burnt his fingers with matches:

of which torture he was about half-a-year in recovering: and they kept him in prison for a month or more."

Mr. Roger Clark, one of the suffering prebendaries of Salisbury, was another of his sons. He was educated at the University of Oxford, was a man of great worth, repute and piety, and married a gentlewoman of very good family, with whom he had a considerable fortune. When the rebellion broke out, he adhered immoveably to his Majesty's cause, and betook himself to the army under Lord Hopton; for which he was plundered of all that he had, the soldiers tearing abroad the very beds and scattering the feathers out of the ticking. Which, though villanous in a peculiar manner, was however the least part of those monstrous barbarities which they exercised on this miserable family: for 'they took the two young sons, being twins, the elder named Roger and the other Richard, and laid them stark-naked in a drippingpan before the fire, with a design to roast them; but a certain woman, whose name was Pope, came and snatched them from the violence of the fire, and carried them away in her apron. The mother was stripped of all her clothing, except her shift and petticoat." Mr. Clark himself having been before dispossessed by the committee and forced to fly, they set 100%. upon his head, as a reward to any one that should apprehend him. But, it seems, he got safe with his wife and younger son, into Herefordshire, where they were all privately succoured and maintained by the charity of a good lady, who was aunt to my Lord Hopton. But during his abode in those parts, he was twice imprisoned for having either said or done something in some insurrection in favour of his Church and King. The one time he was confined in Chepstow castle, and the other in that of Monmouth. He died two years before the Restoration.

On the most horrible conduct of the rebels towards the two children above related, Dr. Walker has this note :-" I should scarce have ventured to relate this horrible outrage, had I not received the account of it from the unquestionable hands of the Rev. Mr. Archdeacon Hill, who wrote from the mouth of the younger son Richard. He was then, and I presume is, if alive, the rector of Penzlewood in Somersetshire."

There was another Dorsetshire clergyman of the name of Clark; but there is no proof of his being related to the above sufferers. His name was Thomas, he was rector of Hazlebury-Brian, and was admitted to it about the year 1616, and dispossessed for none other crime but his loyalty; for he was a person of such an unblemished character, that no serious matter of scandal could be fixed on him, even in the worst of times. He was also no less than thrice plundered, and had a temporal estate of between 300l. and 400l. a year put under sequestration. This estate was afterwards possibly pleaded as a bar against his right to the fifths, which, I find, he could never recover. By these means he was reduced to such necessities, that he could scarce get bread for his family. But his greatest loss of all was that of a hopeful son, who was in orders, whose name was William, a man of great courage and loyalty, who was shot to death, and his servant murdered at the same time by a party of rebels between Hazlebury and Weymouth in the year 1644.

Mr. Clark died during the usurpation, which gave occasion to Mr. James Ranson, the intruder, to lay claim to the living on the king's return. But his majesty's commissioners would by no means allow him to keep it, because he had said in a sermon that the queen-mother was a whore, and all her

children bastards; and had publicly prayed that God would root out the royal family, root and branch. Both which appear from the original instrument of the commissioners, which dispossessed him, and is remaining to this day. But this man retains a place amongst the ejected ministers!

A PASTORAL ADDRESS ON OCCASION OF THE CONSECRATION OF A CHURCH, IN THE PARISH OF, BUILT AND ENDOWED BY AN INDIVIDUAL FOR THE ACCOMMODATION OF A POPULOUS DISTRICT.

DEARLY BELOVED BRETHREN The year upon which we have just entered will be signalized among you by a circumstance which is calculated, by the blessing of God, to promote your welfare in time and in eternity. That beautiful edifice, the ornament of your neighbourhood, which was consecrated lately in a solemn manner to the service of God, will henceforth open every Lord's day, that you may therein raise the voice of prayer and thanksgiving, and hear the words of life from those who shew to you the way of salvation.

be

Such a season should not pass unnoticed among you, nor unimproved. A new year commences-and with it also commence among you new and invaluable religious privileges. Be not, I beseech you, unmindful of that patience and forbearance of God, by which he still continues you in life, and would lead you to repentance. Let not the individual liberality, which furnishes you with such an opportunity of enjoying the means of grace, be exercised in vain. By these, and other circumstances, God in his Providence calls you in an especial manner, at the present season, to serious reflection, holy desires, and good resolutions. At such a season may you resolve to be constant in your attendance at the house of God. May the invitations and promises of the Gospel be listened to with all readiness of mind, and its offers be accepted with all thankfulness-that you may be established in that holiness, which is the evidence of your acceptance with God,—the test of your safety, and of your preparedness for heaven.

It was my happiness to be present on that interesting day, when the first stone of this Church was laid. Since that period, the Providence of God has unexpectedly called me to the charge of this populous Parish; and thence it devolved on me to address the congregation assembled on the equally interesting day of consecration. It is the design of these pages to present you with the substance of the discourse delivered on that occasion. Accept them as a testimony of earnest desire for your best interests, and of thankfulness that hereafter they are likely to be more effectually promoted.

The remarks brought forward in that discourse were grounded on a striking passage of Isaiah, in which the prophet looks forward to the universal diffusion of the perfect light of the Gospel. By him God proclaimed the following delightful and encouraging assurances to all those who should be truly his people, even though they were "the sons of a stranger," and therefore did not belong to his then chosen people, the Jews.

"Also the sons of the stranger, that join themselves to the Lord, to serve him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be his servants, every one that keepeth the Sabbath from polluting it, and taketh hold of my covenant, even them will I bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house

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