fantastic jests. In the autumn before his death he said: “I feel so weak both in body and mind that I verily believe if the knife were put into my hand I should not have strength or energy enough to stick it into a dissenter." And when nearing his end, and alluding to the spare diet ordered by his physician, he smilingly said to General Fox: "Ah, Charles! I wish I were allowed even the wing of a roasted butterfly." In his last hours he spoke very little. On the 22d of February, 1845, he quietly passed into the realm of the departed.

Macaulay, giving his estimate of Sydney Smith, said: "He is universally admitted to have been a great reasoner, and the greatest master of ridicule that has appeared among us since Swift." In calling him "a great reasoner," Macaulay does not imply that he was either a deep or an original thinker, since a great reasoner is not necessarily a deep thinker, nor is a profound thinker always a great reasoner. Every student of Sydney Smith's published sermons and of his seventy-six Review articles knows that he was neither original nor profound in thought, but that the distinguishing feature of his mind was its marvelously quick and clear perceptive power. To this faculty he was indebted for the rare transparency of his statements and his remarkable proficiency in "the art of putting things." His mind was logical, therefore he generally reasoned correctly; but, always excepting his witty forms of speech, he invented little or nothing. His articles mostly dealt with questions of fact, with social and legal barbarisms which offended both his strong sense of "justice and his uncommon common sense." Seizing on what was cruel or unjust in the then existing laws on poaching, on the trials of prisoners, on the exclusion of Romanists and dissenters from state offices, on the use of man-traps for the protection of property, etc., he first stated the facts in each case so clearly as to almost render argument unnecessary. He then proceeded to denounce the wrong with such pitiless invective, and to hold up its absurdity with such rasping, yet mirth-provoking satire, as almost compelled his readers to laugh at the latter and to feel indignant at the former. His favorite logical weapon was the reductio ad absurdum, and with his keen sense of the ridiculous he made it irresistible. He also treated prevailing barbarous usages, such as the cruelties practiced on boy chimney

sweeps, etc., in the same way. Most of the evils he assailed being repugnant to men's sense of justice, and to the spirit of kindness which the great religious revival of the preceding century had begotten in the public mind, his strong reasoning, no doubt, contributed to their overthrow. Because of this vigorous use of his powers he deserves honorable place among the political and social reformers of his times.

Macaulay's estimate of his wit challenges a comparison between him and Dean Swift, whose claim to the first place in English literature as a witty writer few, if any, will dispute. He ranks Smith in this quality next to the irascible Dean. We are not disposed to dispute this claim, nor to compare him with Sheridan, Lamb, Leigh Hunt, Thackeray, or other modern men of wit. But it cannot be denied with truth that Smith's humor winds like a belt of light through his essays, and glimmers mildly in his sermons. And to cite Mr. Reid, "his talk was like a stream of fire-works, brilliant, incessant, and perfectly harmless. His wit, though less incisive and keen than that of Swift, was superior to it in its spirit. Swift's wit was bitter and malignant; Smith's, except when leveled at the evangelical party of his times, was genial and good-natured, the outflow of his heart, which was a perennial fountain of cheerfulness. It was also in the main free from coarseness and vulgarity, while Swift's was often coarse and even filthy. Smith's wit was often grotesque, as when anticipating the birth of his first child, he said, “I hope it will be a girl, and that she may be born with one eye that I may never lose her;" and as when at a dinner table, while discussing liberalism, he said, "I must confess I have one little weakness, one secret wish-I should like to roast a Quaker "—a jest intended to excite the wonder of a very simple-minded guest whose dullness prevented him from seeing that the mirthful parson was only jesting. Sometimes his wit was a shaft of keen, though good-natured, sarcasm, as when, while canon of St. Paul's, discussing the question in the Chapter of placing a wooden pavement round St. Paul's, he said with innocent gravity of tone and expression, "If my reverend brethren here will but lay their heads together the thing will be done in a trice." Exaggeration was also a large ingredient in his wit, as when on being told that his friend Jeffrey had been made Lord Advocate of Scotland he

remarked, in allusion to the judge's diminutive size, "His robes will cost him little; one buck rabbit will clothe him to his heels." One of his best witticisms flashed from his lips when, remarking on his many battles for reform, he said, "The whole of my life has passed like a razor-in hot water or a scrape." This was genuine wit, in that, by using two words in a double he disclosed a relation between the uses to which a razor is put and the conditions under which his life had been passed, which no ordinary mind could have perceived, and which excited an emotion of pleased surprise because it was so unexpected and yet so real.

sense,

Smith's wit did not smell of the lamp, but was spontaneous, as all true wit must be. He was, as Leigh Hunt said of Rossini," the genius of animal spirits," out of which his jests bubbled like water from a perennial spring, though he no doubt unconsciously cultivated it, by training his mind to look for occult relations between things apparently unrelated. Hence, he was always full of it, and it flowed from his lips as freely at his own fireside as in the gay assemblies at Holland House. Said Lord Macaulay, after spending a few days with him at Foston rectory: "He is not one of those show talkers who reserve all their good things for special occasions. It seems to be his greatest luxury to keep his wife and daughters laughing for two or three hours every day."

To his credit it must be said that, as a rule, Sydney used this gift in the interests of humanity and as "the vehicle of his wisdom."

"Laughing to teach the truth

What hinders? As some teachers give to boys

Junkets and knacks that they may learn apace."

His only serious abuse of this endowment was, as hinted above, his persistent tirades against spiritual religion, upon which he leveled his bitterest jokes, in doing which he illustrated the Greek proverb, "Mirth out of season is a grievous ill." Never, perhaps, did a clergyman more sig nificantly illustrate Paul's assertion, that to comprehend spiritual things one must possess that "discernment" which is the exclusive possession of a "spiritually minded" man. Sydney Smith was not such a man. He did not profess to be one, but persistently denounced experimental piety,

believing it, as he said, "to be very possible to be a good Christian without degrading the human understanding to such trash and folly as Methodism." No doubt he was as good a Christian as mere belief in Christianity, without that trust which begets spiritual affections, can make a man. He was eminently moral, intellectually religious, observant of the forms of Christian worship, but apparently not the possessor of that inner spiritual life which is begotten and sustained by what Paul described as " Christ in you the hope of glory." On no other ground can one harmonize his bitter and even profane attacks on evangelical churchmen and dissenters with his honesty. And it is one of the creditable features of Mr. Reid's book that he not only does not defend Mr. Smith in this thing, but squarely censures him:

He was a man who never approached certain subjects without displaying the fact that his mind was warped, so far as they were concerned, by invincible prejudice. But although he completely misunderstood the Wesleyan revival and grossly caricatured the splendid efforts of the non-conformist churches to awaken the religious enthusiasm of the people in the work of foreign missions, it cannot be questioned, in spite of such blemishes on his reputation, that his influence as a whole was given steadily and at much personal cost to the advocacy of the very principles of toleration which have now triumphed to such an extent that his own essays on the dissenters and their missionary schemes are little more than a magazine of exploded fallacies, and read like the record of an archaic period. Sydney Smith misunderstood the evangelical enthusiasm, and refused to separate the chaff of fanaticism from the wheat of self-sacrifice, but his sweeping tirades have long since been refuted by experience, and aggressive work in heathen lands forms now a recognized sphere of activity among Christians of every shade of conviction, and, judged by its fruits, is unassailable.

This is frank and honorable. It was due to the parties Smith so ruthlessly assailed, and does no injustice to the memory of Mr. Smith, who, despite his faults, will long be remembered for his humor, admired for his courage, respected for his abilities, and esteemed for his benevolence. Despite the inconsistency of his excessive, frolicsome, incessant humor with his clerical office, one cannot help loving the merry-hearted man. Neither can one who believes Christianity to be not only a doctrine and a code of ethics, but also a life having its seat in

16-FIFTH SERIES, VOL. I.

the affections, help regretting that this highly gifted man, whom many "wise men loved, and even wits admired," did not add to his humane benevolence, his unquestionable moral courage, his obvious sincerity, his manly independence, and his unique literary ability the crowning glory of a "life hid with Christ in God." Had he done so, his reputation as a minister might have been equal to his fame as a reviewer.

Mr. Reid's sketch of Sydney Smith's "Life and Times" is very entertaining reading. As a biography, it is more complete, more satisfactory, and more artistically constructed than Lady Holland's "Memoirs." It gives a clearer view of Smith's happy domestic life, of his clerical labors, of his opposition to Puseyism, and of his influence on his times. While it does not do away with one's impression that, for a clergyman, he lived far too much in an atmosphere of merriment and laughter, and was too tolerant of worldly amusements, it nevertheless so portrays the serious work of his life, while keeping its playful side somewhat in the background, as to give him a more assured place in public opinion among men who have honestly and successfully wrought for the improvement of society. Mr. Reid has also given variety and value to his work by his graphic notes on many of the distinguished men with whom Sydney Smith was associated. It is a charming volume, a valuable addition to our biographical literature, and a desirable addendum to its subject's "Memoirs" by Lady Holland.

ART. V.-" THE DOCTRINE OF THE FATHERS." THE question whether there is an order of bishops distinct from and superior to the order of presbyters has long agitated the Christian Church. This question is not devoid of real interest, and in view of the practical matters involved, it is a very important one, and especially so as to what views the Methodist Episcopal Church holds, and has held, upon the subject. In its ecclesiastical use, the word "order" has a very different meaning from the word "office." An "order" has certain rights and privileges that inhere in itself—are its prerogatives, and therefore are exclusive and inalienable; while an "office"