I could have preferred even to yours. When I followed him to the grave, I almost thought I should have shared it with him, for I was nearly strangled in striving to repress those external marks of inward anguish which might seem indecent in one of my sex and character; but all my efforts were vain, and while I was in the church I could not forbear bursting into such a flood of tears as I have never shed upon any other occasion. My spirits were so exhausted with sorrow that I should have been utterly unfit for social conversation for the rest of the evening how hard then was my task, when I was obliged to go from his grave into the pulpit, and to preach to one of the most numerous auditories I ever witnessed. He himself assigned me this mournful office; and fixed on the twentieth verse of the seventy-third Psalm, which he then repeated with an air of holy transport, although death was in his immediate view. He left me a strict charge not to make any encomium upon his character, a command which I was forced to obey, but with very great reluctance. You will be surprised to hear, that while I was preaching I did not shed a tear; yet I think I could have died to have restored him to the world, which has sustained so inexpressible a loss by his death.

Myself and five other ministers, who were the bearers, were at his father's house the next morning, when we received the news of the death of Mr. Ragg, another of our companions and fellow pupils, and were called upon to attend his funeral on Friday next.

This was another very afflictive stroke, for Mr. Ragg was an admirable preacher and fine scholar, and I believe no man walked more steadily with God, or, in the midst of so many graces and accomplishments, had so humble an opinion of himself. He lived at a great distance from me, and as he was about to leave Mr. Jennings when I came, there was not that particular intimacy between us that existed between dear Mr. David Some and myself; yet, during his last illness he came nearer, and our friendship increased daily. We composed part of a sermon together a few weeks ago, which I shall preach at his funeral, at Kibworth. He was the most complete pattern of resignation and patience, under a heavy affliction, that I ever beheld. I received a letter from him the night after I heard of his death, which he had written the day before he died. He seemed to have been hardly able to use his pen, and subscribed himself my "almost dying friend."

I have since followed him to the grave, and the next day preached twice. Let your own friendly generous heart then judge, whether my silence is not excusable; and believe me, my dear charmer, that in the midst of these fresh-flowing sorrows, it is a comfort for me to reflect on the divine goodness, in continuing to me such a friend as my Clio, and filling her heart with so much tenderness towards her affectionate and faithful

PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

C

SECTION II.

A brief Inquiry as to the Sources of Popularity in the Pulpit; with a Consideration of the Characteristics which marked the Eloquence of Dr. Doddridge: succeeded by a Continuation of his Confidential Correspondence.

IN the varied drama of human existence situations occasionally occur which call into action the dormant energies of the great actors in the scene, until their faculties assume a gigantic growth, beyond the scan of common men, and they become the beacons of their age, and leave a name emblazoned in the annals of the world.

The innate capacity that can realize such great results is but rarely bestowed, and forms in itself an object of admiration. Other situations however arise, where men of ordinary talent, by the vast importance of the duties devolving upon them, almost equally become the objects of our interest. The victor who has led his devoted band through the deadly horrors of the breach; the seaman who has survived the storm when navies were ingulfed, cannot be viewed with indifference! Success has ennobled them; and, as the favourites of Fortune, we are predisposed to pay them deference.

How much more exalted is the vantage ground upon which his momentous vocation has placed the Priest of Christianity. The keys of futurity are apparently in his hand; and as he rehearses the records

of eternity, the words of the living God pass from his lips, and our bosoms glow with hope or freeze with fear, as conscience prompts and the awful periods roll.

Thus is the minister of religion ever enshrined by the better feelings of our nature; and thus may we perceive how easily he may command our regard. Even when he fulfils his duties with the insipid elegance of a mere reader, and utters the denunciations of the Most High, against thousands of his fellow men, with a degree of apathy which would be unbecoming in the civil magistrate, if pronouncing sentence upon a single criminal, still we excuse his indifference, overawed by the sanctity of his office.

Such being the case, it is evident that a preacher of even subordinate attainments has popularity at his command. Let him but clothe his sacred message in impressive language, and deliver it with earnestness, and he will be heard with respect, and persuade many. Let him go a step further, and scatter over the train of solemn argument the flowers of poetry and the gems of learning, and the polite and fashionable will crowd around him. Should he even descend so far as to substitute empty declamation for the deductions of reason, and in the appropriate language of Shakspeare, "tear a passion to tatters," yet will he still succeed, and "the groundlings" will shoulder each other to approach him. Should he sink yet lower, and retail the jests of the tavern from the cushion of his pulpit,—or, in the unchastened rancour of his heart, anathematize each creed he has

not the charity to tolerate, or the capacity to understand, still," as where the carcass lies, there will the vultures be gathered," so will the place of his preaching be the resort of the idle humourist and the self-applauding zealot.

The popularity of Dr. Doddridge, as a preacher, was not founded upon even the more eligible grounds here alluded to. He soared far above the first; and, instead of embracing the second, it was his sedulous care to avoid that display of learning that might perplex the unlettered, and that ornamental style which would rather amuse the fancy than amend the heart. Yet his eloquence was evinced so early that we have already found three large congregations anxious to secure his services; and other instances will appear which, as they occurred before he became an author, or had acquired reputation as a tutor, may be admitted as evidence of his influence as a preacher. In this particular his power was as great as it was lasting; and the master charm, to which may be ascribed his uniform success, in addressing large assemblies, in different places, of different sentiments and varied rank, was doubtless the high susceptibility of his mind, joined with physical advantages and perfect sincerity.

His hearers were no less overawed by the thrilling solemnity with which he unveiled the awful realities of divine truth, than they were melted by the impassioned tones in which he bewailed their sorrows, and mourned over faults they wanted resolution to subdue. The tenderness of his expostulations when he