flesh." On the second epoch there is no difference of opinion among Christians; on the first and last they are by no means agreed. To me it appears that the third epoch is more clearly and decisively laid down in Scripture than the second, and that the events which immediately followed this epoch, lead us naturally to a plain interpretation of some parts which have been considered so very intricate in the preface; but I should be glad to hear the opinions of others on this subject, being well persuaded, that, if we are agreed in the two last epochs, we shall find little or no difficulty in ascertaining the first.

About two years ago I drew up a paper stating the different ways in which EyeVETO was translated in the authorized version. I have it not at hand, nor would it be easy for me to find it, if it exists. Would it be too much to request the favour of the young gentlemen of York College to do the same thing for us? Schmidt's Concordance will make it very easy for them, and if they would take a book or two of Herodotus, and compare it with any English translation, and write down the translation of EYEYETO in as many passages as occur in the Greek Testament, the result may lead us to some useful remarks. W. FREND.

Immediately preceding it was a period of oppression and of tyranny. The Protestant Dissenters were almost crushed by the strong arm of power, suffering for their religious principles every species of persecution and obloquy. The ejection of two thousand clergymen from their livings, reducing them and their families to beggary, was followed by other acts of cruelty which will ever mark the reign of the Stuarts with indelible infamy. The Revolution of 1688 (imperfect as it was in many respects) rose upon this benighted realm with all the splendour of a heavenly luminary, which has been growing brighter and brighter unto the perfect day!

The commencement, progress and completion of this wonderful Revolution are detailed in every History of England. The object of the present paper is to draw the attention of the reader to the instruments by which, under Heaven, it was accomplished. These were King William and Queen Mary. Who they were, indeed, is generally known. But certain particulars may be enumerated which will illustrate the great event, and render us Britons more grateful for this memorable blessing. "The Revolution of 1688 was in the highest degree temperate and sober. It was imperfect, says a venerable Reformer, amongst us. Yet mark how effectual it has been; the family it gently let down from the throne has never returned. It is now extinct. The Revolution has not been changed in any one of its essential dispositions. It of our freedom and happiness, and is, at this moment, the living source every good Englishman has nothing to pray for-for the Government is established-than in the words of father Paul, when his dying, faultering lips adverted to his country, Esto perpetua !"

But we proceed to William and Mary. No biography is intended, but a few particulars illustrative of this grand national event.

In the History of the British Revolution, 1688, by George Moore, Esq., William and Mary are thus noticed: "Heaven in mercy to these favoured islands had raised up a man who,

the head of a foreign state, was by connexion and alliance an English Prince, and had many a national and

domestic title to interfere in the af. fairs of this nation. His circumstances were so nicely adjusted by a directing and superintending Providence, that he had the means of employing a large foreign force without breaking in on the system of national freedom and independence. This man was William of Orange and Nassau, hereditary stadtholder of Holland. To this quarter of the political horizon was every eye directed-on William was the eager gaze of men fixed and riveted. Never existed a man so qualified by nature and fortune for a great and beneficial enterprise. By birth he was a liberatorum genus, a family of deliverers. He received his first lessons in the school of adversity. He was born when his family had sunk beneath an adverse faction in his country, and instead of enjoying that situation of dignity and command to which his birth had designed him, he saw himself in a private state, in some measure depending on his enemies. But his public enemies were his private friends. The head of it, Pensionary de Witt, was a virtuous man, and he was educated under his personal inspection. From him, his calm, sober, reflecting understanding derived those comprehensive views of the state of Europe and the interests of its component parts which guided his conduct in a maturer age. Called upon to defend and save the commonwealth which the valour of his ancestors had founded against the unprincipled invasion of the French, 1672, he displayed courage and firm ness, not inadequate to the arduous duty which had devolved upon him. A saying of his amidst the difficulties which encompassed him on every side is one of the noblest and most heroic recorded in history. Being asked whether he did not see that his country was ruined, There is one certain way,' he replied, of never seeing the ruin of my country-I will die in its last dyke!' His title of an English Prince, which could alone enable him to interpose effectually and with perfect safety to England, arose from circumstances so extraordinary that the historian is not afraid of the imputation of superstition in representing them as combined by the special interposition of Providence for the purposes of mercy!"

On the 23rd of October, 1677,

William was married to the Princess Mary, eldest daughter of James, Duke of York, afterwards James II. Her joining with her husband to dethrone her father at the Revolution appears to have been the effect of religious duty. It was a costly sacrifice to Protestantism, which was at that period in England on the eve of extinction.

On Nov. 4, 1668, William landed at Torbay, after having once been driven back by a storm to Holland. This was a period of intense anxiety, and especially to his Royal Consort Mary. She had remained at the Hague. "Her Behaviour," says a modern historian, "is finely drawn by Burnet. The usual coarseness and meanness of his style assumes a character of pleasing simplicity." His words are these: "Mary behaved herself suitably to what was expected from her. She ordered prayers four times a day, and assisted at them with great devotion. She spoke to nobody of affairs, but was calm and silent. The states ordered some of their body to give her an account of all their proceedings. She indeed answered little, but in that little she gave them cause often to admire her judgment." The modern historian then adds, " If there be any who regard the memory of the dethroned King with fondness of partiality, they will interrupt this narrative by maliciously observing, that amidst all this solemn and devout composure the Princess was meditating the downfal of an aged father, and they will call upon the sentiments of nature against the interest which Burnet would excite. The historian who traces these pages has not learnt his morality in a school which teaches any predilection for what are called public and severe virtues. He will certainly not expatiate upon them at the expense of the softer and more endearing duties and charities of private life. He does not regard with any fondness or complacency of attention those extraordinary exertions which extraordinary exigences demand; he would rather paint with the love of an artist the more subdued image of virtue as it displays itself in the common course of human conduct, where nothing glaring offers itself to the eye, where there is more of shade than light in the whole execution. Yet he will confess, he partici

pates in some of Burnet's enthusiasm for the Princess. The Revolution of 1688 was one of those few occasions in which public good was the paramount consideration. The Princess had great public duties to perform. She had to rescue from evident destruction that religion which she had been accustomed to revere and cherish as the perfection of Christianity, and with which the religious and civil liberties of mankind were at that time interwoven. Yet I would not render this homage to her memory if I could allow myself to believe that, any thing of a decisive, much less ferocious, spirit was predominant in her mind. I persuade myself there was much of a tender melancholy, of a soft dejection in her sentiments, that the feelings of a daughter maintained a struggle in her bosom, and abated whatever was harsh and rugged in the public character she had to assume. I am confirmed in this persuasion by the account the same Burnet gives of her when he went to take his leave: "She seemed,' says he, to have a great load on her spirits, but to have no scruple as to the lawfulness of the design: she was very solemn and serious, and prayed God earnestly to bless and direct us!'"

But the reader must be informed, that the feelings of Mary were put to the test, not only previously, but after the Revolution. When William was called to Ireland, his beloved consort followed him with unremitting anxiety. "Here he incurred imminent danger. The Irish Papists would have gladly assassinated him. At the battle of the Boyne, where success crowned his arms, and where he was wounded; the enemy, conceiving it to be fatal, raised the shout of joy! He was, however, preserved to enjoy the fruits of his valour, and to uphold the Protestant religion throughout the three kingdoms.

The nonjurors of that day were constantly traducing the character of Mary, as utterly devoid of feeling and affection towards her unfortunate father, James the Second, which had no foundation in fact. On the intelligence of the victorious battle of the Boyne, July 1, 1690, Queen Mary immediately thus writes to William in Ireland: "How to begin this letter I do not know-how ever to render

God thanks enough for his mercies Indeed, they are too great if we look on our deserts, but, as you say, it is his own cause, and since it is for the glory of his great name, we have no reason to fear but he will perfect what he has begun. When I heard the joyful news from Mr. Butler, (the messenger,) I was in pain to know what was become of the late King, and durst not ask him. But when Lord Nottingham came I did venture to do it, and had the satisfaction to know he was safe. I know I need not beg you to let him be taken care of, for I am confident you will for your own sake; yet add that to all your kindness, and for my sake let people know you would have no hurt come to his person!" And, August 5th, she says, "We have received many mercies; God send us grace to value them as we ought! But nothing touches people's hearts here enough to make them agree-that would be too much for our much happiness.” August 19th, she also thus expresses herself: "Holland has really spoiled me, in being so kind to me; that they are so kind to you is no wonder: would to God it were the same here!" Lastly, August 26th, longing for William's return from Ireland, the Queen writes, "I am in greater fears than can be imagined by any one who loves less than myself. I count the hours and moments, and have only reason enough left to think that as long as I have no letters all is well! Yet I must see company upon my set days; I must play twice a-week; nay, I must laugh and talk, though never so against my will. I believe I dissemble very ill, yet I must endure it. All my motions are so watched, and all I do so observed, that if I eat less, or speak less, or look more grave, all is lost in the opinion of the world." Indeed, it is said that King William told Lord Carmarthen before his departure for Ireland, that "he must be very cautious of saying any thing before the Queen that looked like disrespect to her father, which she never forgave, and that the Marquis of Halifax had lost all manner of credit with her, for his unseasonable jesting on the subject." Once more. It was this illustrious Queen Mary, asking the cause of her father's resentment against M. Jurieu, was told by Bishop Burnet, that it

was on account of some indecencies spoken of Mary Queen of Scots! On which she replied, "Jurieu must support the cause he defends in the best way he can. If what he says of the Queen of Scots be true, he is not to be blamed for the use he makes of it. If princes will do ill things, they must expect the world will take revenge on their memories, since they cannot reach their persons." This shewed her knowledge of mankind.

But this great and good woman was soon to be taken away, an irreparable loss to the King and to the Nation. "In Dec., 1694, the Queen was attacked with what appeared a transient indisposition, from which she soon in a great degree recovered. But the disorder returning with more serious symptoms, the physicians of the household were called in, who pronounced it to be the measles, and very improper remedies were applied, for it was soon ascertained to be the small-pox, of the confluent and most malignant sort. She probably thought herself in danger from the first, as in an early stage of the illness she shut herself up in her closet for many hours, and, burning many papers, put the rest in order. The new Archbishop (Tillotson) attended her, and when no hope of recovery remained, he, with the King's approbation, communicated to her the true state of her condition. She received the intelligence with the most perfect composure, and said, She thanked God she had always carried this in her mind, that nothing was to be left till the last hour; she had nothing then to do but to look up to God, and submit to his will!' and continued to the last uniformly calm and resigned. She gave orders to look carefully for a small escrutoire to be delivered to the King. The day before she died, she -received the sacrament; all the Bishops who were attending being admitted to receive it with her; after Awards she had her last interview with the King, to whom she addressed a few broken sentences imperfectly understood. Cordials were administered, but in vain. She lay silent for some hours, and from a few words which then dropped from her lips, it was perceived that her thoughts were wandering. She died on the 28th December, 1694, about one in the morning,

in the 33d year of her age, and sixth of her reign! She was buried at Westminster, with unusual honours, both Houses of Parliament assisting at the solemnity, and her memory was consecrated by the tears of the nation. All distinctions of party seemed for a moment to be forgotten, and absorbed in one general sentiment of affectionate and grateful admiration. The King was justly inconsolable for her loss. During her illness he had given way to the most passionate bursts of grief, and after her death, he seemed for many weeks and months plunged into the deepest melancholy. The necessity of attending to the great affairs of government at length roused him in some measure from his lethargy, and he gradually recovered his composure of mind, but to the last moment of his life he retained the tenderest affection for her memory."

But we now proceed to William, by the delineation of whose character we need not be long detained. It is better known to the public than that of Mary, and has been fully ascertained. History tells us, that the Bill of Rights being duly prepared on Feb. 12, 1689, the very next day being Wednesday, the two Houses went in solemn procession to the Banqueting House at Whitehall, where, with no other pop that what arose from the greatness of the occasion, and the names of the illustrious magistrates who assisted, they tendered the crown of these realms to the great national deliverer William, and joined to him in form and title his consort Mary, the eldest Protestant issue of the late Sovereign James. The Parliamentary declaration of the Bill of Rights was first read with a loud voice by the Clerk of the Crown. Then the Marquis of Halifax, who had acted as Speaker of the House of Lords throughout all the discussions, on his knees made a tender of the crown. William answered for himself and his consort. He made the rights of the nation, as declared in the Bill, the foundation of his acceptance. This," says the Monarch, meaning the Bill of Rights, "is certainly the greatest proof of the trust you have in us that can be given, that is the thing which makes us value it the more, and we thankfully accept what you have offered to

us. And as I had no other intention in coming hither than to preserve your religion, laws and liberties, so you may be sure that I shall endeavour to support them, and shall be willing to concur in any thing that shall be for the good of the kingdom, and do all that is in my power to advance the welfare and glory of the nation !"

From the Banqueting House we are told that the Lords and Commons went in the same solemn procession to different parts of the city, and proclaimed William and Mary King and Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.

A curious letter has lately appeared, giving an account of the joy manifested on this memorable occasion. It was written by an eye-witness, and, though brief, merits attention. It was written by Lady Cavendish, daughter of the patriotic Lord Russel, who was beheaded; the scenes witnessed were on the evening of the Proclama tion of William and Mary, February, 1689: "There were wonderful acclamations of joy, which, though they were very pleasing to me, yet they frightened me, for I could not but think what a dreadful thing it is to fall into the hands of the rabble, they are such a strange sort of people! At night I went to Court with my Lady Devonshire, and kissed the Queen's hand, and the King's also, both proclaimed King and Queen of England in the room of King James, my father's murderer. There was a world of bonfires, and candles almost in every house, which looked ex. tremely pretty. The King applies himself mightily to business, and is wonderfully admired for his great wis dom and prudence in ordering all things. He is a man of no presence, but looks very homely at first sight, but if one looks long on him, he has something in his face, both wise and good. But as for the Queen, she is really altogether very handsome; her face is very agreeable, and her shape and motions extremely graceful and fine; she is tall, but not so tall as the late Queen. Her room, as you may guess, was mighty full of company.

The Protestant Dissenting Ministers in and about the city of London were foremost in their congratulations to William. The silver-tongued Dr. Bates drew up and read the Address on the occasion. It thus commenced:

"May it please your Majesty. The series of successful events which have attended your glorious enterprise for the saving of these kingdoms from so imminent and destructive evils, has been so eminent and extraordinary that it may force an acknowledgment of the Divine Providence from those who deny it, and cause admiration in all who believe and reverence it. The beauty and speed of this happy work, are bright signatures of his hand who creates deliverance for his people-the less of human power, the more of Divine wisdom and goodness has been conspicuous in it. If the deliverance had been obtained by fierce and bloody battles, victory itself had been dejected and sad, and our joy had been mixed with afflicting bitterness; but as the sun, ascending the horizon, dispels without noise the darkness of the night, so your serene presence has, without tumult and disorder, chased away the darkness that invaded us. In the sense of this astonishing deliverance we desire, with all possible ardency of affection, to magnify the glorious name of God, the Author by whose entire efficacy the means have been successful, and we cannot, without warm rapture of thankfulness, recount our obligations to your Majesty, the happy instrument of it. Your illustrious greatness of mind in an undertaking of such vast extent, your heroic zeal in exposing your most precious life in such an adventurous expedition, your wise conduct and unshaken resolution in prosecuting your great ends, are above the loftiest flight of language, exceed all praise!" Such were the sentiments of the Protestant Dissenters on this memorable occasion, without disguise or reservation.

The Mayor, Aldermen and Common Councilmen of the city of London, also made William the following short but impressive Address, delivered by Sir George Treby, Recorder, December 20, 1688: "Great Sir, when we look back to the last month, and contemplate the swiftness and fulness of our present deliverance, astonished, we think it miraculous! Your Highness, led by the hand of Heaven, and called by the voice of the people, has preserved our dearest interest, the Protestant religion, which is primitive Christianity restored. Our