been a friend to the platform-God having graciously pleased to deny me that privilege.

"I hope these grey locks will excuse this little garrulity. It is not probable that I shall have another opportunity of addressing you again, at least on such a public occasion as this. I had better, therefore, take my leave of you. Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.'

"The Lord bless you, and keep you! The Lord cause His face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you! The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you, and give you His peace!"")

- a

Rowland Hill, too, was one of the great guns of dissent in my young days; but I only heard him once, and I am almost sorry now that I saw him at all, for the mere wreck of a preacher was presented to my view. There he sat, (after tottering up the pulpit stairs, clutching, with his bony hands, the rail, as he ascended,) in a high chair - for he was far too feeble to stand painful picture of drivelling senility. Yet, there was some of the old fire left, and it blazed up now and then. He was what people call "funny" by fits and starts, and it was sickening to see broad grins on the faces of people who should have known better. The good old author of the "Village Dialogues" died very shortly afterwards.

Once, during my youth, Edward Irving paid a flying

visit to Bristol. That visit constituted an era in my existence. Again I look on that extraordinary pulpit comet as it swept into my ken," blazed for a brief period and departed, leaving me in a state of wondering admiration. Once more I look on that magnificent head, whose raven locks

"Streamed, like a meteor on the troubled air;"

on those remarkable eyes, whose very obliquity added power to their expression; on that figure, which in its wild contortions reminded me of one "possessed." And those solemn tones of his voice often reverberate through the chambers of memory like a sound and warning of doom! Shall I ever forget that discourse of Irving's? Oration it might rather be called, but that word is, nowa-days, applied to such paltry speeches, that I have grown sick of using it. No one now blows his political or polemical penny trumpet, without fancying that Cicero's instrument was made for him to play upon. Orations, indeed! I know not which most to be surprised at, the vapid nonsense, so styled by the blustering Boanerges of our time; the matchless impudence of the individuals who pour it into the public ear; or the astounding "swallow" of the listeners to such "sound and fury — signifying nothing."

So much by way of introduction; and now let me ad dress myself more particularly to the design I have formed with respect to this series of articles. And here, at the very commencement of my task, an attempt to portray, in pen and ink, something both of the men and the minds of persons who occupy prominent pulpit

none other shall I write.

positions, I may be met by the inquiry-"And pray, by what right do you assume to yourself the office of critic?" or, "Do you think it proper or prudent to visit a church for the purpose of sketching the minister?” I reply that public men are public property, and amenable to fair criticism; I hate flippant and vulgar personalities as much as any one, but I contend that I have as much right to comment on a minister's style, manner, and characteristics, as he has to address his observations to my heart and conscience. Believing that the pulpit of a country in no mean degree represents the condition of its mental and moral society, may I not say a word upon it; upon the men who fill it; upon its influence and its destinies? I shall take care to say nought that may with cause offend, or hurt the feeling of any; but at the same time I shall speak candidly and truthfully, fearlessly and frankly of all.

With every disposition to speak respectfully of the pulpit in this age, I may say that I by no means intend to distribute my praise equally over all the pulpit teachers; for some, indeed, I can feel but a small measure of respect. The whole of the worth of the pulpit is jeoparded by the conduct of men who strangely forget the character of modern intelligence, and the width and depth of modern information; the supercilious sneer, the currish, barking, dogmatic tone of some, is known to all of us; men there are who fancy that their being set apart to a sacred office, is a diploma and warranty for the treatment of all persons not in the ministry, with

dogmatism and disrespect. Then we have elegant lackadaisycalness, oh, how many a head more remarkable for the hair upon it, than for the brains within it! How few have felt the glorious agonizing determination to speak the words of truth to their fellow men at all hazards. It is not too much to say that vanity, that idleness, that the idea of a life of literary elegance, have frequently more to do with the selection of the pulpit for a profession, than the convictions of the littleness of Time, and the vastness of Eternity!

It has often struck me, and doubtless other persons too, that congregations have distinct characteristics, as well as their ministers. Audiences frequently reflect the character of the preacher; the preacher reflects his audience. Therefore, shall I have something now and then to say of the people who listen, as well as of the persons who preach. Seated in some snug corner, wrapped in my venerable claret-colored coat, I shall take many a note.

"And faith! I'll print it;" but I will do so goodhumoredly at all events, so that, in case of a "findfault," even the sometimes proverbial sensitiveness of the "choir" shall not be unduly irritated. Such little matters as these will be mere accessories of the "PenPictures," which being now about to be hung in the great gallery of public opinion, must patiently abide criticism, and trust only to their truthfulness for commendation.

PICTURE-MAKING

CHAPTER II.

AND

WORD-SKETCHING.

A LITERARY

PARTY. DEPARTED FRIENDS. A SLIGHT MISTAKE. THE REV. MR. STOCKTON, OF PHILADELPHIA. NOTICES OF WM. DAWSON AND ROBERT NEWTON.

WHENEVER that great painter, Sir Joshua Reynolds, drew a portrait, it was always his endeavor to produce a picture also. That is, not content with a mere likeness, which would be a source of delight to those only who were acquainted with the original; he desired to produce a composition, which by the aid of judicious accessories, should make it artistically as well as personally valuable.

In humble imitation of so illustrious an example, I shall, in this series of sketches, whenever practicable, introduce "accessories," in order to heighten the effect, yet not so as to damage accuracy of outline or breadth of touch. Nor will this be a difficult matter;

on the contrary it will marvellously lighten my labor, as well as constitute an improvement when it is completed; but I shall not resort to the stale artistic device of inserting in one corner of my canvas the fragment of a graceful pillar that shows an imaginary support for the lady or gentleman who never in his or her life leaned against