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tobi ■ i hub u Him i—iinwniiniun—mum
THE OUTLAW OF TAURUS.
Translated from Eusebius by Thomas Dale.
The author would apologize for this hasty, and
he fears, imperfect translation ; but assures his
readers, that there are strong proofs of the au
thenticity of the following legend. Irensous,who
lived A. D. 178, (that is,within less than a cen
tury after the death of St. John) and Clemens
Alexandrinus, affirm that all the presbyters,
who were in habits of intimacy with the Apos
tle, professed to have received the tradition im
mediately from himself.
When, after the death of the fyrnnl Do
mitiun, the -apontin John had returned from
the isle of Patmos to Ephesus, at the soli-
I citation of the brethren he undertook „
tour through the provinces adjacent to that
city. His objects in this journey were the
ordination of bishops, the persona! superin
tendence of the churches, and the separa
tion of such persons as were indicated to
him by the Spirit, to the exercise of the
clerical office. On his arrival at a city not
far from Ephesus (the very name of which
is mentioned by some writers) after he
had consoled the brethren by exhortation,
he beheld among his audience a certain
youth, whose commanding stature and en
gaging aspect bespoke a corresponding
nobility of mind. Turning to (he Bishop
whom he had just ordained, he exclaimed—
-11 In the presence of the Church, and in the
sight of Christ, I commit this youth to your
utmost diligence.’ He having received
the young man, and given the required
promise, the apostle, having solemnly reit
terated his charge, returned to Ephesus.
The presbyter, admitting into his own
family the youth who had been thus con
signed to his care, after having instructed,
strengthened, and cherished him, adminis
tered to him the ordinance of baptism. Af
ter this, however, he relaxed his former
vigilance and caution, imagining that he
had secured him by the most effectual re
straint, the seal of the Lord. But certain
of his former companions, dissolute, de
bauched, and abandoned to every species
of vice, endeavour to corrupt the youth,
ivbo had been too early released from re
straint. And first they entice him by mag
nificent banquets; afterwards stealing out
by night for purposes of robbery, they per
suade him to accompany them ; and, in a
short tirrje, excite him to attempt some ac
tion of greater atrocity.
But he, becoming gradually inured to
rice, like, a spirited and unbridled charger
galloping from his right path, and champ
ing his hit, is hurried by the very nobility
of his soul, more deeply into the abyss.
Having renounced all hope of salvation in
his Redeemer, he meditated no trivial ac
tion ; hut, as one reduced to utter despera
tion, determined to perpetrate some great
exploit, disdaining, even in guilt, to be on
an equality with the rest. Having, there
fore j collected his associates into a band,
Snd procured himself to be appointed their
leader, he surpassed all others in violence,
slaughter, and atrocity.
The MISSIONARY.
In the course of time, some exigence
tequiring his presence, John is once more
summoned to the same city. Having ar
ranged all the circumstances on account of
which he came, ‘ Now,’ said he, ‘ O Bish
op, restore to me the deposite which Christ
and 1 committed to your custody in pre
sence of the Church over which you pre
side.’ . He at first stood mute with astonish
ment, imagining that money which he had
never received was required from him
through some calumny ; he could neither
believe that what bad never been intrusted
to his care was demanded from him, nor
could he impeach the veracity of the apos
tle. But when he exclaimed, ‘I demand
the young man, even the soul of my broth
er,’ the old man groaning deeply, and
buret,no, ioto tears, replied, ‘He is dead.’
‘And in.what manner did he~nie : ■- ne is
dead to God,’ rejoined the Bishop : 4 he
hath departed, being impious and abandon
ed, and a most desperate robber. And he
now occupies a mountain opposite the
Church, with his equally lawless associ
ates.’
At 1)11*6 words the apostle rent his gar
ments, and with a bitter groan striking his
forehead, exclaimed, 4 To what an excel
lent guardian did 1 intrust the soul of my
brother!—But procure me instantly a
horse and a guide.’ He hastened, even as
he was, directly from the Church ; and,
having arrived at the place of his destina
tion, is captured by the advanced guard of
the robbers, neither endeavouring to fiy,
nor imploring life, but exclaiming, 4 For
this very purpose 1 came! conduct me to
your chief.’
The leader, armed as he was, awaited]
his arrival. And when h.e recognized
John advancing towards him, overpowered
with shame, he betook himself to flight.
But the apostle, forgetful of his age, eager
ly pursued him, exclaiming, ‘Wherefore
do you ily from me, oh my son ! from your
tather, aged and unarmed ? Pity me, oh
my child, and fear me not: you still possess
a hope of salvation. 1 will make atone
ment for you to Christ. Willingly would 1
endure death on your behalf, even as the
Lord died for me. 1 will give my own life
as a ransom for you : stop and believe:
Christ hath sent me.’ The youth hearing
these words, at first stood still, with his
eyes fixed upon the ground ; next he threw
off his arms, and, trembling, burst into a
flood of tears. He then met the old man
advancing, and with bitter sighs and lamen
tations implored his pardon, being, as it
were, baptized a second time in his tears,
only concealing his right hand. Then the
apostle pledging his faith, and vowing that
he would obtain pardon for him from his
Redeemer, having fallen on his knees and
prayed, kissed the right hand of the young
man, as if it had been purified by repent
ance, and led him back to the Church.
Having besought God on his behaif with
many prayers, and striving together by
frequent fasting, and soothing his soul by
many scriptural exhortations, the apostle,
as they say, did not depart till he had re
stored him to the Church, having afforded
a signal example of sincere peuitence, an
illustrious instance of regeneration, and a
trophy of a conspicuous resurrection.
THE STANCH HYPOCRITE.
FROM THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER.
I am the squire of a country parish in the
north of shire, where, till within the
last twenty years—that is, during the in
cumbency of the present rector and his
predecessor—we never had any methodis
tical doings, hut were as honest hearty
souls as ever mounted a hunter, or cracked
a bottle. But during the last twenty years,
there ha been a sad change. Ido not
mean that there is more poaching, or steal
ing wood and poultry, or robbing barns and
orchards ; for in these respects we are bet
ter off than before, which I attribute en
tirely to those things having gone out of
fashion, just like hard drinking. But what
1 lament is the great increase of hypocrisy
in the parish. When I was a boy, we had
service in the church only once a fortnight,
and not always that, especially when
the curate, for we had no resident rector,
had the rheumatism ; but as soon as Mr. F.
the present incumbent, came to reside
here, he performed service every Sunday
morning, which, however, 1 did not much
object to : though it was sometimes very in
convenient, for, as 1 made a point of attend
ing whenever there was a sermon, it pre
vented my taking physick, or settling some
affairs at one of my manors, a few miles off,
which I had been accustomed punctually
to manage on the alternate Sundays, once
a month. Mr. F. died twelve years ago,
and left in his will a considerable legacy
for a second service every Sunday, as the
smallness of the preferment had hitherto
rendered it uecessary for the clergyman to
serve another parish, in the afternoon.
To attend a second service I had always
considered great hypocrisy, and therefore
1 have never once darkened the doora of
an afternoon since the endowment*; but as
the new rector, Mr. H. entered with
warmth into the design of his predecessor,
and the bishop and patron gave their con
sent, I could do nothing effectual to pre
vent it. Mr. 11. acted very puritanically in
GO YE INTO ALL THE WORLD AND PREACH THE GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE. Jesus Christ.
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK CO. GA.) MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1821.
the whole of this business; lamcertain he
only wished to curry favour with the poor,
and to spite me ; though I never could see
what he could get by doing so. His con
duct, however, throughout, was so hyperit
ically amiable and obliging, that he never
gave me a fair opportunity to tell him all
my mind. I hate such double dealing; a
good hearty quarrel clears the air like a
thunderstorm, and all is sunshine after
wards.
Well, Sir, hypocrisy, I belive, is as con
tagious as the plague; for in a few years
half the parish began to be infected ; and
what with schools, and sermons, and Bibles,
and prayer-books, the Sunday, instead of
being a day of rest, became as busy as a
market day. Some of the principal farm
ers, in imitation of the parson, ha" 15 /ra °
me nypocrisy 10 taxe wWa meat dinners
on that daj% that all their servants may go
to church, and as for Mr. H. himself, when
or how he gets his own dinner on these oc
casions, I cannot conjecture : he seems to
me to live like a woodcock. But in order
that you may understand more fully the
nature of the evils of which 1 complain, 1
shall give you the following account of one
of my tenants, who has for many years
been one of the stanchest hypocrites in the
parish
Tim Dobbins was just my own age ; and
being my foster-brother, he used to be of
ten, when a child, in the servant’s hall at
the manor house, where he learned many
excellent and diverting tricks. As we
grew up, we became constant companions;
for my father said, that though Tim was
but a poor man’s child, he had a good deal
of spirit, and promised to be an adventur
ous sportsman, and might, in time, after his
death, make me a valuable game-keeper.
In this I was very little disappointed ; for,
though Tim was a good follow, an exceed
ing good fellow, yet he took so to drinking,
and, what was worse, to poaching in the
preserves, which he was employed to
guard,that I was obliged at length to dismiss
him. I shall not trouble you with the rest
of his adventures, how often he got into
prison or sat in the stocks, with similar par
ticulars, &c. VVhat vexed me most was,
that in throwing a redhot poker one day at
his wife, he set fire to the new cottage I
had built for him, and, beiQg intoxicated at
the time, suffered the flames to spread to
one of my own barns. I should not, huw
ever, have turned him out of his paddock
for these offences, if he had not become
a hy'pocrite ; for 1 can forgive many faults
where there is a good heart.
His hypocrisy was very cleverly manag
ed. He did not like some reprobates 1
have heard of, boast of sudden conversion;
indeed, in order the better to keep up the
stratagem, he did not boast at all; but to
the hour of his death professed to be a mis
erable sinner,while, all the while. 1 have no
doubt he thought himself quite a saiot.
About twenty years ago, when Mr. F. came
to the parish, Tim's cottage was next to
the parsonage, so that his wife and childien
came in for many a good thing from the
rector’s kitchen and dairy. Both Mr. F.
and afterwards Mr. H. used to visit them
and give them little books; and, I must
confess, they were very kind and attentive
to their wants ; all which 1 attribute to the
new fashioned hypocrisy before mentioned.
Tim, however, would not be won on, either
bv words or deeds. Mr. F. tried to break
him of the knack of swearing, but did not
succeed; for Tim, not being bred a gentle
man, did not know that it is uncivil to
swear before a clergyman. In three or
four years, however, the rector, I perceiv
ed, began to gain a little upon him ; fori
once heard Tim say, myself, that Mr. F.
was a saint, if ever there was one on earth,
and that in the end it might be better luck
for us all if we w ere like him.
When Tim’s cottage was burnt down,
the rector lent him one of his own, which
happened to be empty; for there was
snow on the ground, and Lucy Dobbins was
near her confinement; and I had vowed
Tim should not have so much as a stable of
mine ; lor in addition to burning my cottage
and baro, which I did not care a rush for,
he had betted upon Lord ’s piebald
galloway, and openly backbited the char
acter of the finest hound in my kennel.
As soon as Tim entered the cottage, he
swore, with an oath, that the parson was a
noble fellow ; and that by way of quit-rent,
vowed that he would never swear
while he remained in that cottage, and
would even go to church some Sunday, as
soon as he had won the new coat and red
plushed waistcoat to go in, at the cudgel
match. He did not, however, keep either
of these promises.
Some time after, Tim was in prison for
debt; and was so ill with a neglected cold,
which he had caught one night in poaching
my fish-ponds, that his life wns despaired
of. Mr. M. attended him frequently, and
gave him food and medicines, for the parish
apothecary did not care to trouble himself
about him. From this period I date the
commencement of Tint's misfortune. The
rector prevailed on the creditors to release
him, and had him moved into his old cot
tage, which I had by this time rebuilt for
him, being much pleased with him for
keeping up the honour of our county by
shooting twenty pigeon* in succession—
nine of them right through the head, at six
yards greater distance than the best rifle
man in the adjoining county, which is half
as big again as ours. He was nearly twelve
mouths before he recovered; all which
time the rector and his wife continued their
designs upon him. Tim’s ruin was now
complete. I did not see him in prison, or
during his illness; for such scenes, you
know only make a man melancholy, es
pecially as I might have chanced to en
counter the parson, and come in for a slice
of his Sunday’s sermon. Poor Tim, when
I first saw him after his recovery, was
leaning over the gate on the sunny side of
his cottage, as I rode past logo to our annu
al cock-fight, which, I assure you Mr. Edi
iVju'j. one „ 0 „ f t x P i^P es U^ i . n ,ff s , in ."J l ?£
will soon be with us again.” 44 1 hope not,
sir,” he replied.— 44 Hope not! and why?
do you intend to hang all your life over a
gale with your head thatched with a night
cap ?” 44 My thoughts, sir,” said he, “ are
greatly changed, and, I trust in future, to
lead a very different life to what I have yet
done.” He added a few words more,
which I did not understand ; but they suffic
ed to convince me that Tim was becoming
a downright hypocrite: and so I told all
the company at the cock-fight, who greatly
applauded my sagacity, and lamented that
he should have fallen, of late, into low
spirits and methodistical company.
Tim continued to manage his hypocrisy
in a very plausible ingenious manner. He
did not make a great blaze in the village,
as l expected he would have done ; but
went on quietly about his employments ;
and, to keep op the plot the better, left off
drinking, and swearing, and poaching, and
stealing, and most of his old habits. I sup
pose he was tired of them. Nay, the sly
fellow went so far, that, from being the
most troublesome and quarrelsome man in
the hundred, he, in time, obtained every
body’s good word as a civil companion, nn
obliging neighbour, a faithful friend, and
the best paymaster in the village. Still
further to keep up the farce, he contrived
to save money to pay off bis old debts, and
subscribed a penny a week to a Bible and
Prayer-Book Society; expecting, I sup
pose, that they would decline receiving the
money. Nay, he went so far as to deceive
his own family, so that even his wife and
children believed him in earmet , and,
whereas they formerly trembled at his
presence, they now became tenderly’ at
tached to him, and gave him the best of
characters to the end of his life. Ido not
find fault with any of these good doings, in
themselves; indeed, I very much admire
them ; only in Tim they showed great hy
pocrisy, because he did not even pretend
that his temper and passions were changed
in themselves —only that religion made
him endeavour to subdue them; a plain
proof of double-mindedness. I need scarce
ly add, that he took to going to church
twice every Sunday; besides which, he
read the Bible and Prayer-book to his wife
and children at home, ns often as lie had an
opportunity. Thus, year after year, he
went on passing himself for a saint; and
this without any sufficient motive that ever
I could discover to make it worth his while
to do so. It must have been the mere love
of hypocrisy. I make no doubt he would
have had us believe it was for conscience
sake ; and many’ people thought it was so,
especially as he never made any difficulty
of giving up his interest to suit his purpos
es. In short, he kept up his character to
the last; and the parson has for many
years spoken of him as one of the best liv
ers in the parish, and recommended all bis
neighbours to imitate his example.
His death has crowned the whole ; for
he died as he had lived, without any ac
knowledgment of his hypocrisy'. He pro
fessed to be quite calm and ready to go ;
another plain proof of insincerity, for who
would die that could help it ? Ido not
hear of his having used any extravagant
expressions of joy ; I suppose he wa9 too
cunning for this; hut Mr. M. said, in his
f.meral sermon, that he was very repent
ant, and placed his trust in Jesus Christ oar
Lord; and he told us a great many of his
sayings and doings, which were very good
and pious in themselves, only too metho
distical.
Now, sir, what I want to know, is, what
can I do to stop the effects of this example ?
Tim’s pretended repentance and good
works, and religious discourse, continued
for so many years, have made many other
persons take up the same kind of hypocrit
ical religion; and they are all treading in
his steps, to the great joy of the rector,
who is getting an old man, and cannot see
through these things. Tim’s death-bed
has strengthened the general impression ;
and if we go on as we are now beginning, I
fear we must add anew gallery to the
church, which would be a great expense
to the parish. Pray inform me how to act.
Could I not indict the rector for driving hi*
majesty’s subjects mad ? My own wife and
daughters, I fear, are bitten; and, to pro
yoke me the more, are become so doubly
kind and amiable, that, do what I will, I
cannot find a pretext to quarrel with them.
They read your work, Mr. Editor, which is
the way 1 come to know it; and lam in
hopes that if you admit my communication,
Price, \ P’- or, |
l $3,00 in advance. }
they will be so shocked at the above ex
posure of hypocrisy, as to forsake their
new-fangled notions, and go hack to balls
and cards, and other like Christian amuse
ments, which is the hearty wish of, sir,
Your obedient servant,
An Anti-Metiiodist.
From the Christian Observer.
TEMPLE OF JERUSALEM.
Voltairc's Plan for rebuilding the Temple of
Jerusalem.
“ Among the many excellent remarks
which have at different times appeared in
your pages, relative to the inspired proph
ecies, Ido not recollect to have seen any
I mean the attempts which have been
made, hut in vain, to defeat their accom
plishment. The modern state of the Jews,
is an invincible argument on (his subject;
but what 1 intend more particularly to urge
at present as an illustration of my remark,
is the plan conceived by Julian, and reviv
ed by D’Alembert and Voltaire, to rebuild
the temple of Jerusalem. I shall give the
account of this transaction, in the words of
the Abbe Barruel.
“It is well known what strength the
Christian religion draws from the fulfilling
of the prophecies, and particularly from
those of Daniel, and of Christ himself, on
the fate of the Jews, and of their temple.
Julian, the apostate, in order to give the
lie to Christ, and to the prophet Daniel,
had sought to rebuild the temple. It is al
so known, that flames bursting forfh from
the earth at divers times, and devouring
the workmen, had obliged him to demist
from the undertaking. D’Alembert was
not ignorant of this act of divine vengeance
having been certified by a multitude of eye
witnesses. He had, undoubtedly, seen it
recorded in Ammianus Marcellinus—an au
thor of unqestionable authority, for he wa£
the friend of Julian, and, like hurt, a Pagan.
But this did not hinder him from writing to
Voltaire, 4 You probably know, that at this
present timp there is in Berlin, a Jew, who,
expecting Mahomet’s paradise, has in the
mean time gone to wait on your former
disciple, in the name of the Fultan Mnsta
pha. Writing to that country the other
day lie mentioned, that if he [the king of
Prussia] would but say the word, the pre
sent would be a fine opportunity to have
the temple of Jerusalem rebuilt.’
“That word was not said by the former
disciple, and D’Alembert gives the follow
ing reason to Voltaire : 4 I have no doubt
but that we should have succeeded in our
negotiation for the rebuilding of the temple
of the Jews, if your former disciple had
not been afraid of losing some of bis Jew
ish worthies, who would have carried away
thirty or forty millions of money with them.’
Thus, in spite of all their inclination to
give the lie to the God of the Christians,
even the sordid interest of (he conspirators
was to add anew proof to the truth of his
doctrines.
“ Voltaire had not, eighteen years after,
given up the plan, nor lost all hope of ac
complishing it. Seeing that D’Alembert
had not succeeded with Frederick, he nn
deavoured to prevail with the Empress of
Russia. He writes to her, 4 Ifyour majes
ty is in a regular correspondence with Ali
Bey, I implore your protection with him :
I have a little favour to ask of him ; it is to
rebuild the temple of Jerusalem, and to re
cal the Jews who will pay him a large tri
bute, and thereby make a mighty lord of
him.’
“Voltaire, when nearly eighty, still per
sisted in this plan, by which hp was to prove
to the people, that Christ and his prophets
were impostors.
“ The truth of the circumstances attend
ing Julian’s attempt, has been often called
in question; but I think no person can de
liberately weigh the strong arguments of
Bishop YVarburton, in his treatise on this
subject, without admitting, both that the
attempt was made, and that it was defeated
in the manner described by Amtnianus Mar
cellinus. Voltaire’s plan seems to have
been half in jest; though, had the project
been favourably received, it can scarcely
be doubted, but that he would have pressed
it in earnest. So much for the intention
both of the ancient and modern Julian; as
for the project itself, it would have proved
nothing but the impiety of the advisers, had
it been put into execution; for, as the Ab
be Gregoire, in speaking on this very sub
ject, justly remarks, “The prophecies
torefold, that there should not remain one
stone upon another, which has been strict
ly fulfilled ; but they no where relate, that
the edifice should never be rebuilt.”
roi.ITENESS. 4
If possessed of truly good qualities, the
practice of politeness will give them addi
tional lustre, and render them doubly use
ful. It is a beautiful and permanent enam
el, to all the Christian virtues, and vindi
cates the Christian character from the im
putation ot moroseness and severity.
Learning, riphes, station, talent* and genius,
without this “ milk of human kindness,” are
either overhearing and insolent, or awk
ward and <li-|;u3tin£,
