scribable influence, and in her Madame de Staël found the realisation of that poetical vision which was embodied in the character of Corinne.

From this family we must pass to speak of another which added its quota to the circle of Battersea Rise. At no great distance across the common, Lord Teignmouth, after his return from India, had fixed his home, and there, while his children were growing up, he resided. Both the elder and younger members of the family were frequent guests at Battersea Rise. Nor was it to be wondered at; for if ever goodness and meekness shone forth in a public man, they were found in Lord Teignmouth; as happy in the modest walk of his unpretending benevolence, when he took part in the rising society in Earle Street, as he had been when he guided the counsels of the great empire of India; as full of zest, when he seated himself in the Clapham coach, with his umbrella by his side, as when he rolled in the pomp of sovereignty through the streets of Calcutta. His benign worth made a strong impression on all who saw him; while his partner added to the vivacity, so attractive in a woman, a quaint originalty of thought, and a playful kindness. The younger members grew up with their cotemporaries to share their pursuits and prospects.

To us, indeed, the picture of that household comes, not as it showed itself to the Thorntons in its morning prime, but as we recall it touched by the shadows of the declining light as it fell on the hospitable house in Portman Square. For by that time the circle was not unbroken, and its strength was impaired. One of the sons had passed far away into Eastern exile, another was laid to rest in a foreign grave. The venerable host was bending under the weight of seventy summers, the voice more slow, the step more feeble; but in his placid looks goodness and peace reigned, and worth cast its radiance on the evening of a useful life. Lord Teignmouth had been summoned, by the respect of a large body of religious philanthropists, to preside over one of those great societies which have made an epoch in the philanthropy of England, and have left a permanent mark on the character of mankind. He had given himself to the counsels of the Bible Society with a patient assiduity, and watched with patriarchal interest over its daily administration. Not possessed of the gifts which dazzle society, not able by eloquence to stimulate large assemblies, he was eminently fitted by his gentleness and judgment for the effective guidance of practical counsels. In this respect the Society profited much by his advice and experience. He was its first president; as Henry Thornton was its first treasurer.

Even now we recall, with something of the faintness of a distant dream, those evenings in Portman Square, when, after the crowd and stir of an anniversary meeting, all that was notable in London

in patriotism or philanthropy, met in these hospitable rooms; when the old forms of men of mark, drooping under the weight of years-Wilberforce, and Lord Bexley, and Lord Sidmouth, were to be seen mingled with younger men rising into note -Sir Robert Inglis, and the Grants, and Sir Thomas Acland; bishops were there to represent the Church; sectaries of catholic spirit greeted bishops, anxious to forget their differences and to unite in thankful praise. These days have fled, the groups are gone, the halls, once so thronged, are silent. Here and there the footsteps of a solitary straggler wake with the echoes of his feeble tread mournful memories, and recall to us the band of which he is the survivor; but those who witnessed this scene will understand what interest, what harmony, what kindliness and worth, that household, in its earlier days, brought to Henry Thornton's happy home.

Still, as we review the circle gathered near Battersea Rise, our picture, to be true, must include the pastor, who brought his counsels to their families, taught them by his weekly lessons, and comforted them in times of trouble. In these respects Clapham was highly favoured, as both in John Venn, and his successor Dr. Dealtry, the parishioners possessed clergymen characterized alike by zeal and by wisdom, presenting the special characteristics of their church-learning, earnestness, and a wis moderation. Both of these clergymen, during their incumbency, which extended over more than one generation, enjoyed the respect of their parishioners, and an influence greatly to be valued; not confined to weekly addresses, though enhanced by them, but springing out of the warmth of sympathy and the steadiness of friendship. In their teaching they resembled each other: firm in their adherence to the cardinal points of the ancient faith which the Church of England has inherited from early times, but alike opposed to the fluctuating fashions of modern theology, which at one time swells into unwholesome excitement, or shrivels into a dry and lifeless Deism; but they were withal moderate, gentle as those can be who are strong-looking for success, not to excitement and emotion, but to the patient teaching of Divine truth, set forth with loving earnestness, dropped, with silent prayer for a blessing, like seed, the germ of habits, into the cold stiff soil. This, the husbandry of their unweared labours, was at once their duty and their delight. This teaching, acceptable to the thoughtful, not alluring or stimulating to the multitude, was greatly prized by Henry Thornton. No other style of thought would have suited his balanced judgment. It was by this process that his own mind had been formed-not by impulse or enthusiasm, but by the persevering study of the Divine Record, which offers pleas to the doubting and difficulties to the careless, but which, when honestly read and carried faithfully

into practice, becomes always to the humble intelligible and clear. This formation of character had given him a cast of thought which was his characteristic. Gentle in his judgment of others, tolerant of their differences, indulgent to their infirmities, only to himself unsparing, he gave with an intrepid liberality freely of his time and wealth to the poor, the sick, and the suffering-to the minutest cases of distress, as to the largest schemes of benevolence. In the latter sphere he always chose the hardest work and the most unobserved portion, and setting aside the care of his health and all thought of ease, he did his work strenuously, hardly allowing even his infirmities to relax or suspend it. Aware of his own weakness, and of the help he needed, he gave part of each of his occupied days to a careful study of Scripture, to reflection, and to prayer. Often he might be seen, in fellowship with his friend Bowdler, in the quiet library which looked out on the shaded lawn, taking the large Bible from the shelves, studying it with fixed attention, and extracting from it its lessons for practice and for comfort.

The perseverance of his character, and the continuity of his labours, reminds us somewhat of the versatile activity of John Wesley. Seeking rest at Buxton, with flagging health and weakness, only interrupted by sharp attacks of fever, he plies his pen busily, and sends to Macaulay constant supplies. Later in life, as he is travelling for health, he is reading the new publications, and writing for his children or his household simple prayers. Nor does failing health induce him to stop his works, or to abate his interest in them. It is true that these benevolent labours brought at times their refreshment. He lived to see the fruits in Africa of his life-long toil. Before his death he was able to point out the results. A land once desolate, now cultivated by agriculturists; once a desert, then a population of 5000 souls; thriving farms occupied by industrious freemen, who had once been ignorant captives, and these covering with a flush of verdure an area of eight miles from Free Town.

These results, however, though they refreshed his spirit, were not the sources of his happiness. That he found in religion in the contemplation of the Divine character, and the glorious prospects of a new and more elevated life. This reconciled him to the weakness of his constitution-to the frequent infirmities which tried him; and this made him spurn with a lofty disregard the vain pursuits of accumulating wealth, and only regard its acquisition as valuable inasmuch as it led to the help and relief of others.

But we have already exceeded our limits; and we must defer to another article the close of this active life.

ON PEW-RENTS.

In a paper on Pews in our last number, we endeavoured to elucidate the working of the appropriation of seats, as the law allows it in our churches; and we found it (with a few exceptions, which, perhaps, could not be sustained) strictly this: that the churchwardens are bound to apply the space within the walls for the universal good of the parishioners, seating the whole of them before the service begins; that no one afterwards has any right to retain a seat unoccupied; and that all pre-arrangements, by appropriating pews, are thoroughly subordinate to these rights and duties, and give no property and no right whatever to the supposed owner, except of pre-occupation before the beginning of the service. We carefully avoided touching on Pew-rents, except by showing that paying for a pew gives nothing more than the same right of pre-occupation, which, with a view to the proper order of the worshippers, may be had to the same extent without any payment at all, or in free seats; and that if the hirer of a pew think that he has got more than this, it is simply a mistake, because the law prevents the churchwardens from giving more, and him from taking it. A patient, we observed, in a hospital might as lawfully, and we may add as reasonably, claim that his bed was to be kept for him when he was out, and another wanted it.

But pew-rents are denounced, especially by the National Association for promoting Freedom of Worship, as contrary to law; which, as they are imposed by Act of Parliament, must mean (if it mean anything) that they are so contrary to the rights of the parishioners, that even the authority of parliament cannot overcome the repugnancy. They are also denounced as unscriptural, and it is urged that, for this reason again, even the law of the land cannot make them right. Our objection to these arguments is to the premises. Of course we begin with the alleged scriptural difficulty. Looking at the teaching of the New Testament, that "they which preach the Gospel should live of the Gospel," and that "the labourer is worthy of his hire" (Luke x. 7), we cannot find any ground whatever on which pew-rents are unscriptural, or objectionable as the means of providing for the support of our clergy. On the contrary, our duty to enable them to live by the Gospel is so binding, that objections to this mode or that mode, which are fanciful or conventional, are nothing. We think the most strenuous opposer of pew-rents will scarcely attempt to prove them malum per se. We are only contending now that pew-rents may be used, and we are very much surprised that any one can hold the contrary.

But the zeal of some adversaries to pew-rents is so great, that

they even assert that any pre-arrangement for the occupation of pews is unlawful. We shall find strong arguments against them. But on what principle is such pre-arrangement unlawful? How is it contrary to the rule of law, that the church is to be enjoyed by the parishioners for their universal good? We endeavoured in our last number to show, with no little detail, how arrangements beforehand conduce to the regular and comfortable attendance of the worshippers. And we must add, that there are other advantages which we did not then mention. One is the privacy of the worship, so eminently necessary, and so helpful to our devotions. Another is like it; and we have heard it spoken of feelingly by those who are deeply sensible of the evil working of the pew system, as one which they have experienced, and could scarcely bear: and that is, being placed too near, or even next, to those whose habits are wanting in the ordinary decencies of life, particularly as to an odious American habit, which is really distressing to people of delicacy, or even of common decorum. It is one of the evils of promiscuous distribution at church, that such people cannot be avoided, without vacating a place once taken, or assigning reasons which no third person can fully enter into, and which often become known, and give dire though ill-taken offence. By proper pre-arrangements all such evils, or at least the recurrence of them, may be avoided without any complaint being brought forward; and it is the policy of every wise system, that, in its working, accusations and offences, and causes of offence, should not arise. The text of St. James certainly does not militate against precautions to save the refinement and the decencies of life, wherever they may be found, from being brought into undue proximity with grossness, and habits bad in themselves.

The object of the law in allowing pews is to be found over and over again in every legal work on the subject. They are appropriated, as far as appropriation is allowed, as "conducive to more undivided attention,' as affording a point of union and mutual good example among individuals of families," and "that people may with more convenience attend divine service." And we are content with the reasons which have governed the law, and believe that they are in unison with the experience of some centuries.

Whilst arguing for the modified appropriation of pews as lawful (which it is), we cannot help remembering the maxim, once so urged as conclusive in spiritual matters-" Ut id teneamus quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est." We never could understand how human consent and agreement, even if carried to this extent, could of itself be of authority as to doctrine, though it might have been, of course, proof of how Divine teaching had been understood. And we always regarded the enunciation and use of this rule as nothing