face of her dying mistress, and anon crouching on the bed, as if keeping watch over the precious child. When death had closed the melancholy scene, it was not without difficulty that Fanny could be removed from the room; and, after the key had been turned upon the chamber of death, she placed herself outside of the door, where she lay until the day of the funeral, refusing any nourishment, and giving indication that she had not wholly broken her heart for our irreparable loss only by an occasional low, melancholy howl. Once, during the few days that intervened between death and burial, we entered the apartment, to find, if possible, assuagement for our grief, by immediate contact with its beloved object. Fanny contrived to steal in after us, and, after leaping upon the bed where her mistress died, and finding it vacant-the remains having been placed on trestles-she espied the coffin, snuffed round about it for a few seconds, then leaped upon it, and coiled herself up on the center of the lid, as if fully aware of what was therein contained; and we, whom she had always hitherto regarded with high-toned brutish affection, got her removed only at the imminent risk of being lacerated in the attempt. When the funeral was over, it was truly pitiable | to see the affectionate little animal wandering through the house in a fruitless search after what reason as well as instinct seemed to make her feel conscious was irrecoverably gone. Few, or perhaps none of our readers may recollect an incident, which was noticed at the time by one of the daily journals, in reference to a terrier dog, the property of a friend of our own, now deceased. The dog, while rambling about the garden, saw a cat pounce upon and seize a sparrow. In an instant he sprang upon pussy, rescued the sparrow from her rapacious maw, and carried it safely home to his kennel. Its rough mouthing had disabled the poor bird from taking wing, but the dog and it became inseparable companions-feeding out of the same dish, and gradually contracting a tender intimacy. But one day the sparrow-luxuriating as we may suppose on its newly-found creature comforts, and getting too independent -strayed from its protector, and fell a prey to its old enemy. Pepper, the terrier, was disconsolate for his loss, and evidently mourned the absence of his strange com panion, by refusing food for several days thereafter. We must bring this rambling article to a close for the present, as we know there are those who abhor theoretical speculation, however much they may give prac tical demonstration, that there are worse things to be found in the world than reeking turkeys, plump, smothered-in-onions chickens, or, most conclusive of all, ducklings and green peas; and who are hard to be constrained to admit that, to many a man who wants a friend, a dog has proved "a faithful one." Before we conclude, however, we cannot forego mentioning a remarkable incident which may be of interest. A friend of ours had a bull-terrier dog, named Billy, who, for lack of bulls to bait, had to content himself with extirpating rats. Two years ago, Billy accompanied his master on a visit to a farmhouse. It so chanced, that, during the visit, the honest farmer had occasion to take down, for the threshing-mill, a two-year old stack of barley. Here, among the swarms of rats and mice, which had been carrying free-trade to its utmost limits at John Barleycorn's expense, Billy got an ample field for gratifying his natural predilections. The last sheaf had been forked into the cart, when a huge rat, which had, in all likelihood, been watching an opportunity of revenging upon Billy the slaughter of his brethren, emerged from a large hole at the foundation of the stack, and meeting him half-way, gave Billy "a Roland for his Oliver," by seizing him on the upper lip, and clinging with such pertinacity to that tender part, that Billy was utterly helpless. He, however, took but a very short time to form and execute a well-laid scheme. The rat's hole was distant from him about a yard, and, calculating that such a prospect of escape from retributive retaliation might tempt it to let go his nose, Billy moved to the mouth of the hole. True to Billy's calculations, when the rat got sight of the opening to its retreat, it quitted its hold, and made a sudden bolt for safety. Billy was too cunning and too quick to be so easily, albeit cleverly, done for. On the instant that the rat let go its hold, like lightning he griped it by the back, and, as much as to say, "Now, haven't I done him?" tossed it triumphantly into the air. Billy was here in better luck than his too eager class-fellows, who each took the wrong side of the post, and, through the awkwardness of a coupling-chain, let their prey escape, amid snarling growls, and the soothing hope to soften their disappointment, "We'll see you again, and then," as so admirably depicted in that graphic painting of Alexander Forbes, "There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." Christianity remains, indeed, hidden from the eyes of the greater portion of mankind, and cannot, therefore, find a place in the pages of history. So much the more unwise, therefore, is it to judge of the effect of Christianity in any age, by what floats on the surface; and so much the more important is it for the historian to search everywhere in the midst of the darkness for these scattered beams of light, and by the side of a man whom God set on so high a place, and to whom he intrusted so broad and manifold a sphere of activity as Gregory, Bishop of Rome, to introduce one who, in the meanest station of this world, in the neediest and most helpless condition, yet manifested the glory of the divine life. Any one who takes a pleasure in forming, so to speak, an acquaintanceship with domestic animals, in closely studying their habits and propensities, will freely admit, as was beautifully said by a great divine, that they "are not beneath the dignity of legislation; and must, we think, arrive at the conclusion that, while the great Creator has drawn a very wide and most unmistakable line of demarkation betwixt the faculties of his own image-work and all inferior creation, yet that still there are reasoning, calculating, and providing faculties among the brutes, which may well put to the blush many a spiritually-earthen vessel. We will listen to the gifted brute among our own species, to apply to whom the lofty title of man were only to give him a nickname.” CHRISTIANITY IN POVERTY AND LOW- BY NEANDER. We should know nothing of the life of this child of God, if the great bishop (Gregory) had, like the world, suffered himself to be so dazzled by appearances, as not to perceive the treasure in the bishop himself, as he describes to us the life of this man. "In the vault through which we enter the church of Clermont, lived a certain Servulus, whom many among you know, as I know him, poor in earthly goods, rich in God, worn out by a long illness; for, from his childhood until the end of his life, he lay paralyzed in all his limbs. Did I THE working of Christianity is not less say he could not stand? He could not seen in small than in great things. It needs no grand or public theater in order to display itself. It is the light that, wherever it may be, cannot remain hidden under the bushel. Indeed, what Christianity is, is best seen in this, that it fills with heavenly glory vessels despised or esteemed as nothing in the eyes of men -a glory which far outshines all earthly splendors; that it pours into them the powers of the world to come, beside which all the powers of the earth are nothing. In all ages, that which the apostle Paul so nobly expresses in 1 Cor. i, 27, 28, is evident in the operations of the gospel. "God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. And God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty; and base things of the world, and things that are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things that are not, to bring to naught things that are." even raise himself so as to sit upright on his bed, he was never able to lift his hand to his mouth, nor even to turn from side to side. His mother and his brother were always with him to wait upon him, and what he received in alms he used to distribute to the poor. He could not read; but he had bought himself a Bible, and used to welcome all pious men, and make them read to him from this Bible. And thus, without reading, he was, nevertheless, able to become acquainted with the whole Bible. He sought, amidst his sufferings, constantly to thank God, and to spend day and night in praising him. When he felt the approach of death, he begged his visitors to stand up with him, and to sing Psalms with him, in expectation of his approaching end. And, dying as he was, he sang with them, when suddenly he ceased, and cried aloud: 'Hush, hear you not how the praises of God resound in heaven?' And while he turned A large portion of these operations of the ear of his spirit to catch these praises of God, his holy soul departed from his answerable for the acts of individual membody." bers, yet, as society consists of individuals, and a sect of its members, and, more especially, as Mrs. Fry and Mr. Gurney were eminent and prominent members of the Society of Friends, we are inclined to admit, that the showing these two individuals to be deserving of general reprobation and contempt-the hurling them down from the pedestal on which mankind has placed them-must deeply affect the society to which they belonged, and even make a marked impression on the entire religious world. Our authoress evidently thinks the same. The prolonged preliminary chuckle with which the subject is introduced, shows us, that here, at least, she is making a fatal blow. But let us inquire-Do our readers know of whom we are speaking? If not, let us inform them that the late Mr. Gurney was an eminent banker in Norwich, so extensively Gregory appended to this narrative these words of exhortation to his Church: "Behold the end of him, who bore the sufferings of this life with resignation! But I beseech you, my dearest brethren, think what excuse shall we be able to offer at the day of judgment, who, although we have received goods and hands, are slothful in good works, whilst this poor man, who had not the use of his hands, could, nevertheless, fulfill the commandments of the Lord? Even if the Lord should not lead forth against us the Apostles, who drew hosts of believers into the kingdom by their preaching; the martyrs, who, pouring forth their blood, entered the heavenly country; what shall we say when we see this Servulus, whose limbs were paralyzed by sickness, without paralyzing him in the accomplishment of good works?" Let us compare with this Servulus-known and respected, that ten thousand whose life in that maimed and helpless body was not spent in vain; who did more for the glory of his God and the good of his brother-men, than others who lived in the splendor of the world, and in great activity-those noble Romans, of whom the younger Pliny speaks, who, in long and desperate sickness, with the stoic composure of the wise of this world, put an end to their lives with their own hands. We will not condemn the noble spirits to whom the grace of knowing the gospel was not vouchsafed. But in which of the two do we find the true dignity of man, that true elevation which is founded in humility, and, on that very account, can never be cast down or robbed of its crown? MRS. FRY AND HER SLANDERER. THE English Eclectic Review criticises, people are said to have attended his funeral, and that the late Bishop of Norwich preached a funeral sermon on that mournful occasion. In addition to his private virtues and liberality, (the latter was really on a gigantic scale,) he was highly distinguished as a theological writer; his Evidences of Christianity" being considered, among the members of all creeds, a masterpiece of inductive reasoning. That he was born a Quaker, and remained one throughout his useful life, is a fact none will dispute: but he was no sectarian; his view of Christianity was the most enlarged and liberal that it was possible to take; a fact proved beyond question, by the tribute of respect paid to his memory by the prelate to whom we have just alluded. Such is the portrait of Mr. Gurney, accepted by the world as faithful: but it is entirely ignored by Mrs. Greer she represents him as gluttonous, fastidious, im Twith merited severity, Mrs. Greer's perious, dishonest, and altogether one of "Quakerism; or, the Story of My Life," -a work which has excited much attention, and been republished in this country. We give the following vindication of Mrs. Fry, whose fair fame is the precious property of the Christian world, and not merely of her own sect. We now proceed to investigate the charges against Mrs. Fry and Mr. Gurney-charges exhibiting the most degraded state of feeling that it has ever been our lot to expose, and to condemn. Although we contend that no sect is the most insignificant and contemptible characters that the imagination can picture. He is first introduced upon the stage as wrangling with Irish hostlers, on the subject of horsing his own coach; the cause of dispute being this:-The "real gentry," by which term Mrs. Greer and party are intended, were stopping at an inn, when traveling in one of the grand carriages belonging to the Greer family. Their horses were put to, and they were on the point of starting, when Mr. Gurney came up in his coach. It seems the landlord had but a pair of horses at command; so Mr. Gurney insisted on the hostler's taking out Mrs. Greer's horses, and putting them as leaders to the pair he had just hired. On this question the dispute arose, and, after raging through many pages, terminates, with poetical justice, in the "real gentry" retaining their own horses. Mr. Gurney was, at the time in question, traveling with Mrs. Fry; but the novelist has written no part for this distinguished lady in the stable farce; however, she soon makes her appearance on the stage. And now let Mrs. Greer speak for herself: "It was nine o'clock before the pigs' feet came, and then we set to work to manufacture them into jelly. My mother sat up all night, and had her task accomplished by eight o'clock in the morning, when it was sent down in a large cut-glass dish; and she had, soon after, the pleasure of hearing that the English Friends said it was the nicest calf's-foot jelly they had ever tasted. "This was now first day; the Friends were to dine with us at three o'clock, and to have a meeting at seven, to which the town's people were invited. A dozen of our acquaintances were invited to meet the Friends at dinner; and it fell to my lot to stay from the morning meeting, in order to attend to the needful arrangement of this repast, which was as choice and abundant as could be provided on so short a notice. My sister had brought us word, the night before, of the honor intended for us. The meeting was over at twelve, as usual; and at half-past two, up drove the wellknown coach, with its important burden. The ladies were soon seated in the draw "A few days after, these same Friends [i. e. Mrs. Fry, Miss Elizabeth Fry, and Mr. Gurney] arrived in our city, and lodged with my uncle. They arrived on the seventh-day afternoon. Their intended visit had been announced, and every preparation made, that the kindest hospitality could devise, to give them a cordial Irish welcome. My uncle was a widower, and, although his housekeeper was a clever young woman, and well skilled in the culinary department, still he felt greatly burdened with the honor which had been conferred upon him, in having to entertain these great Friends. At his request, my mother had been all over his house, to see that the accommodation provided for them was suitable. Beds of the softest down and sheets of the finest Irish linen, were prepared for them; and a double-bedded room for the two young men, whom they were in the habit of taking about to swelling-room, the gentlemen strolled into the their train, and run of their messages. About seven o'clock that evening, we saw my uncle hastening up our lawn; and knowing, from his manner, that something had occurred to ruffle him, my mother went to meet him. O' said he,' what shall I do? after all, I have not got things right for the Friends, and I am come to thee to help me. They cannot drink anything but London porter, and Elizabeth has called for calf's-foot jelly. I sent to all the confectioners' shops, but there was none to be had; and Debby is kept running about waiting on them, so that she could not make it; and, besides that, the butchers have not got any calves' feet. sent round to them all to try. Friend John says he is quite distressed on account of his sister, as she requires those things, and that they quite expected to have them I garden, and the other guests dropped in one after another. Scarcely had the clock struck three, when Friend John said to my mother, 'Three, I think, is the hour for dinner; shall I ring the bell?' 'O! no,' she replied; some of our Friends have not yet arrived.' He sat down for about two minutes, and then began again, My sister will, I fear, be annoyed; she quite expected dinner would be ready at three o'clock. We English Friends are accustomed to be punctual to time.' 'Dinner is quite ready to be served,' said my mother; but we must wait a few minutes for the guests we invited to meet you.' 'Probably they will arrive,' he said,' whilst dinner is being placed on the table. With thy permission I will ring for it.' And he rose and walked across the room, and rang the bell. The butler entered. 'Let and, whilst doing so, Friend John, leaning forward, said, 'Dost thou not feel it a privilege to be permitted to cut bread for my sister?' We were all glad when the weary day was over; for though we fully pany under our own roof, of these celebrated Friends, still our feelings had been tried, by the manner in which they had received our attentions." dinner be served,' he called out. The man looked amazed, but withdrew. I went down stairs to tell my sister how the matter stood. She countermanded the order; and, fearing that the Friends were hungry and suffering, called one of the train-appreciated the honor of having the comyoung men,' and told him to hand them a glass of wine and a biscuit, to enable them to fast about ten minutes longer. Ah!' said he, there is not the slightest occasion; as soon as ever the meeting was over, they went home, and called for beefsteak and porter; they all three eat heartily of that, and jelly besides.' Whilst we were speaking, Friend John himself joined us in the dining-room. Really,' said he, 'I am annoyed. This want of punctuality is very trying. My sister's convenience is sadly disregarded.' "Ellen at that moment saw the gentlemen we were waiting for, entering the gate; and, at a quarter after three, Friend John and his sister were satisfying the de- | sires of the inner man with much apparent enjoyment. As soon as the cloth had been removed, and the wines and fruits laid on the table, the Friends dropped into the well-known ominous silence; and one after another preached a domestic sermon. Then they regaled on the dessert, and, when satisfied, requested to be shown to bedrooms, where they might take a lay,' to obviate any tendency to drowsiness in the evening meeting. The ladies were immediately accommodated; but we were somewhat surprised when the gentleman required the same for himself. His wants too were supplied, even to a nightcap, and a shawl to throw over his shoulders; but, ere he composed himself to sleep, he gave orders that tea and coffee should be ready for his sister at half-past five o'clock. It was made ready as he wished; and then the three resumed their seats on the sofas, gracefully arranging the pillows and stools, and the ample folds of their drab dresses and shawls, so as to form a pleasing tableau vivant. There they were served with tea and coffee; and again we had the satisfaction of thinking their appetites were not impaired. A plate of bread and butter, cut, as we thought, thin, being handed | to the little Elizabeth, she helped herself rather superciliously, and then remarked, Ah! this may pass with me; but certainly it will not do with my sister.' One of the young people took the loaf to cut some thinner slices for the important lady; This is the picture, as drawn by the novelist. The narrative is bald, disjointed, and inelegant; but this is a matter of small moment; the facts, if not positively and intentionally false, are so distorted and burlesqued, the additions and omissions are so important and so numerous, that no idea whatever is conveyed of the real facts of the case. It is the occasional custom of the ministers of the Society of Friends to visit distant parts of the country, or even foreign countries, under a conscientious belief that they are required to preach the gospel in those places. It is scarcely required of us to enter into a criticism on such a custom; its existence is all that we have now to deal with. Mrs. Fry, in company with her brother, the Mr. Gurney of whom we have just spoken, and her sister-in-law, Miss Elizabeth Fry, undertook such a journey, in the beginning of the year 1827, leaving London on the 4th of February. They landed at Dublin, and visited Armagh, Lisburne, Londonderry, Sligo, Galway, Limerick, and Cork, besides a great number of intervening places of less importance; all public institutions, as prisons, schools, and lunatic asylums, were assiduously visited; long and fatiguing interviews took place with all officials connected with such establishments; ladies' committees were formed in every part of the island, and their labors defined, and actually commenced, under the practiced eye of the philanthropic founder, who, from morning till night, labored in her Christian vocation. In addition to all this, she constantly held religious meetings, and frequently preached to the audience for an hour at a time. It seems wonderful, that one of such gentle nurture as Mrs. Fry-one who had enjoyed every luxury and every indulgence that could be devised, even from her very infancy-should have undertaken and accomplished the almost Herculean labors she was now daily engaged in. At last, nature gave way. Let us consult her |