him. He had but recently left the university of Geneva. He had no suspicion of heresy being latent or germinant in his own mind. He had the most profound veneration for Calvin. He was well versed in the peculiarities of his system from attendance upon the lectures of Beza. He was zealous for the reputation of his old tutor, whose words were still fresh in his memory, and the sound of whose voice still lingered in his ears. He addressed himself, therefore, with his usual ardour to the work, but not, it appears, with his usual success. He laboured hard, and even fatigued and harassed himself. He weighed with great care the arguments on both sides. He brought them to the test of Divine truth. But, as he went on, difficulties and perplexities rose up and thickened around him. He knew not how to shape his reply. His own arguments, the arguments of others, did not satisfy his mind. He began to see in a favourable light the very principles he had been called upon to denounce. He began to doubt the very doctrine he had undertaken to defend. Of the exact process of his mental transition, it is to be regretted that we have no record. It would be in the highest degree interesting and useful to be able to follow the steps by which he was led to depart from the system in which he had been trained. All that is told us is, that first of all he felt that he could not meet the strictures of the Delft divines upon the supralapsarianism of Calvin and Beza with any solid and sufficient reply; and so was inclined to adopt the sublapsarian view. But on further consideration this also appeared attended with insurmountable objection, and was abandoned. This is all either Bert or Brandt tells us; and Arminius himself unhappily never had leisure or inclination to write the story of his own mental development and growth. But whatever might be the process, his views gradually underwent a change. He did not long hesitate as to the course he should now

pursue. He had never been accustomed to esteem lightly the dictates of conscience; at this crisis of his life he was loyal to her voice. Interest, advancement, ease, fame, invited him to defend principles which in his heart he began gravely to doubt. He could not heed these allurements. He would be true to conscience at whatever cost. But he would do nothing rashly. Breaking off from the task of replying to the Delft divines, he devoted himself with his characteristic spirit of earnest inquiry to deeper research and further thought respecting the questions at issue. Every fragment of time he could snatch from public duty was given to this study. He read the ancient fathers. He re-considered the views of later writers. He pondered over and over again the words of Scripture. He sought enlightenment in every way possible, and kept himself jealously on his guard lest in his public discourses he should commit himself upon doctrines about which his mind was still unsettled. The troubles and perplexities through which he was passing were known only to himself and God, whose guidance and help he sought. His doubts and difficulties were for the present hidden in the sanctuary of his own bosom.

But there was one important question, more conducive to human happiness than untwisting the delicate cobwebs of metaphysical speculation, which he was determined not to allow to remain longer in abeyance. He was thirty years of age. He had been over two years in the ministry. But he was without a home. A lady of great accomplishments and eminent piety had won his affections. He resolved to consummate his attachment by marriage. Elizabeth Real was in every way worthy of his love. Her father was an alderman of the city, and an Admiralty Director of Zealand. He had been distinguished for active exertions and heroic endurance in the early struggles of the Reformation. By his instru

mentality, and that of some of his friends, the preaching of the gospel was introduced into Holland. He was called to suffer for the truth. Missionaries were invited, chiefly from Flanders, to leaven the minds of the people with the new doctrines. Large assemblies were gathered together in the villages, and in the fields. At length the cities caught the contagion and claimed liberty of prophesying. Numbers of the inhabitants of Amsterdam embraced the Reformation. They were not content with the privilege of hearing sermons in the open country, since the open country at some periods of the year was under water. The Duchess of Parma suggested that something might be done with boats. The Prince of Orange, amused with the suggestion, replied that already preaching took place at the Lastadge' among the wharves. In the name of God then,' wrote Margaret, 'let them continue to preach in the Lastadge.' Within a few weeks after, the permission thus granted was withdrawn. The government was growing stronger. The sectaries in various parts of the Netherlands had been cut to pieces. The Duke of Alva was coming, and the trumpets of his advancing army resounded from the Alps. The 'Great Beggar,' Broderode, had fled. The Prince of Orange had left for Germany. Fresh edicts of persecution were issued, and all ministers, teachers, followers, or favourers of the new faith were condemned to the gallows. The tide of persecution rushing over the Netherlands already dashed upon the plains of Holland. The people fled, says the Dutch historian, Bor, in great heaps;' while all abettors of Spanish misrule began to erect their heads like dromedaries.' Lawrence Real saw the danger approaching, and

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joined the exiles in their flight. He was in perils by land and sea for weeks. He had no passport for himself or his family. His intended route was known to the authorities at Amsterdam. Soldiers were sent after him with warrants for his arrest. Not suspecting pursuit he was yet, by the providence of God, saved from his pursuers. After many disasters and delays, he escaped to Embden, in an old fishing-boat that had been under water half a year, and the leaks of which he had to stop with his linen. His daughter Elizabeth, then only fourteen years of age, shared with her parents the sorrows of exile and the perils of flight. On the return of more peaceful days, they came back to Amsterdam. They had been settled in the city about ten years when Arminius arrived from Geneva. Whether her family, her experience, or her piety is considered, Elizabeth Real was a fitting companion for the honest and truth-loving Arminius. She was of honourable birth. She knew something of suffering for conscience sake. She had been nurtured in the school of adversity. Her character had grown and matured under trial to womanly strength and heroism. She possessed remarkable firmness of mind and undaunted courage. The union was destined to be a happy one. They were married at the old church, in the autumn of 1590, Ambrosius, the colleague of Arminius, performing the ceremony. The orphan of Oudewater now found solace and companionship in the sanctities of home. Without father, or mother, or brother, or sister, alone in the world, with troubles threatening on every side, he had prepared a retreat where he might nestle in security and repose amid the storms of life.

ELIZABETH ASTON was born at Brassey Green, on December 23rd, 1814. From a child she was naturally sedate and thoughtful, kind and generous, possessed of much discrimination and a strong resolution. In early life she was taught to love and fear the Lord, to which instruction, under the Divine blessing, may be attributed her moral and consistent conduct while in the slippery paths of youth; and her after conversion to the faith and obedience of Christ. It was not until she attained her nineteenth year that she manifested a deep and anxious concern for the salvation of her soul. Under the faithful and affectionate ministry of the late Mr. Howarth she became the subject of God's sovereign and converting grace. On May 18th, 1834, she was baptized and continued an honourable and consistent member of the visible church until called to join the church triumphant. Having tasted of the good Word of God, and experienced something of the powers of the world to come, she was anxious that others also should be brought to a saving acquaintance with Christ, and made it a matter of prayer to Almighty God that her brothers might become partakers of those great and invaluable blessings Christ died to procure. She constantly perused the Word of God or religious books at the close of the day, and at times when others had retired to rest. She had a strong attachment to all the disciples of Jesus, and the sanctuary of the Most High; was regular in her attendance on the means of grace, and the ordinances of God's house. The interests of Zion lay near her heart. She constantly endeavoured to promote the prosperity of the church of which she was a member. But that Divine Being whose judgments are a great depth was pleased to lay upon her His afflictive hand and put her aside from the more active duties

of life in the prime of her days. The advice and skill of several medical men was at once secured. But after impartial trials with each, little or no relief was obtained. In the month of August, 1853, she was recommended by several friends to try the Buxton Baths, and at first appeared to receive some benefit, but after remaining there for several months she returned home without having obtained any permanent relief. The disease at at this time with which she was afflicted was slowly but surely creeping on. By reason of much infirmity she was now unable to attend the means of grace, to her a great spiritual loss. A beloved friend, by her request, purchased a bath chair in which, while resident at Tarporley, she was constantly brought to the Baptist chapel. Being anxious to re-establish her health she decided in May, 1856, to put herself under the treatment of a hydropathist at Buxton, and after remaining with him for nearly twelve months, proceeded to Matlock Bank Establishment, and formed a favourable opinion of the tepid water treatment, and a strong attachment for Mr. and Mrs. Smedley. Although far from home she was happy and contented, and entertained strong hopes, that by perseverance, relief would ultimately be secured. When she had been at Matlock Bank for nearly two years, it was thought a change of climate might be beneficial. She removed to Exmouth, in Devonshire, but finding the air too relaxing, after staying a few weeks, returned to Matlock. About the month of September, 1860, she went to Redcar, in Yorkshire, and put herself under the treatment of Dr. Horner, and in March in the following year re turned again to Matlock. After continuing there for a few weeks she came over to Parkgate, and in the autumn of the same year visited

Brassey Green, and remained in her own native township until nearly Christmas. For some few weeks previous to leaving Tiverton for Matlock, the fourth time, she was heard to complain of a small substance formed upon her breast, which produced pain, and stated that it had been brought on through an injury received when young. The thought never occurred to her near relatives what a fearful disease had then taken such firm hold of her system; nor did she fully understand the nature of her complaint until a few weeks previous to her departure. Unwearied in effort to regain health, she went for the last time to Matlock Bank Establishment, and stayed there for about six months; but becoming very weak and infirm, retired to private lodgings, until the latter end of September, at which time she wrote to one of her brothers, stating that Dr. Brown gave no hopes of a permanent recovery, and that he must come over as soon as convenient. By a a personal visit it was soon ascertained that she wished to spend her few remaining days on earth in her native place, amongst her relatives, and be buried by the side of those with whom she had taken sweet counsel. After returning home she was at times cheerful, and entertained the hope that God might yet spare her life for some months to come. On other occasions she was rather dejected, and thought her end was very near. Her pathway for the last eleven years was rough and rugged, thickly strewed with trials and beset with sorrows, but she bore them with Christian fortitude. The Lord assuaged her griefs, lightened her sorrows, and cheered her soul under the somewhat dark and painful dispensation of His providence, and enabled her to say, Thy will be done. A friend who visited her for some weeks previous to her decease remarked, that her views of the plan of salvation were clear, and her only hope of heaven was through the finished

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work of Christ. Her views of herself were very humble, and she often spoke of the need of the Holy Spirit to instruct and comfort her, being deprived of the privilege of meeting with the brethren on the Sabbathday, especially at the ordinance of the Lord's supper. At times she felt so happy that, as she said, she did not know whether she was in or out of the body. To others she expressed herself as having no desire to live, nor had she the least fear of death. She spoke with great feeling of the love of God, and repeated with much animation Paul's encouraging and most delightful language, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, &c. Christ was her only hope and trust, and His great salvation a theme upon which she appeared to dwell with peculiar delight. She was a liberal supporter of every good work, and thoughtful for the people of God, as was seen in many acts of benevolence. She advised some who visited her when near the confines of the grave not to hoard up money, as it answered no good purpose, but to be liberal, and endeavour to do good while opportunities remained. Her sufferings were great, until within a short time of entering the valley of the shadow of death. Attendants and visitors were much affected. Her desire was to depart and to be with Christ. She said that it would soon be her happiness to be with some dearest friends who but a short time had gone before. On Wednesday morning, December 31st, at eleven o'clock she calmly and quietly, apparently free from all pain, fell asleep in Jesus to awake on the great morning of the resurrection in the likeness of her glorious Redeemer, and join the numerous and blood-washed throng in those exalted mansions where God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away.

nor

66 STRIKE, BUT HEAR." DEAR MR. EDITOR,-I do not know whether the impatience of Alcibiades granted the old philosopher's prayer, or no; but, as on the occasion which has brought it to my mind, an accomplished correspondent in your last number has indulged himself in the pleasure of visiting me with chastisement, I think he is bound gracefully to fulfil the last clause of the petition, and to give me an audience. In availing myself of that privilege, I shall not attempt to imitate the luxuriant rhetoric and poetic beauty which characterize the attack of my brillant assailant. I am happy that they adorn these pages, and shall esteem my paper a benefaction to this journal, with whatever errors it may be proved to be chargeable, as it has been the fortunate provocative of so valuable a contribution. No! Far be it from me to feign the airs of Parnassus, where I have never inhaled a breath, nor culled a flower: they belong to a region of literature in which I am a total stranger; but, as a plain man, dwelling in the plains, I know what I mean, I can answer a plain question, and I hope, when called upon, I can give a reason for the faith that is in me,' with meekness, but without fear. In that spirit, as your polished contributor has deigned to say a word or two' to me, I shall take the liberty to say a word or two' to him, in reply.

Courtesy calls upon me at first, to acknowledge the delicacy with which my venerable critic informs me that he shall not notice seriously what I have written. With the tenderness due to kindred, he seems charitably to hope that a paper of seven pages (much too long I own) was written in a pet, and that the feelings which prompted the effusion are ephemeral, and no doubt kindly hopes I shall

evidence, internal and external, deprives me of the benefit of this partial apology. It consists very largely of quotations for one thing: and, in the next place, if my gallant opponent will condescend to look at page 223 of this Magazine for the year 1857, he will find this very paper promised for publication. Five years is almost too long for a passion; or, at any rate, an offender who continues in one so long should be given up as incorrigible.

The first portion of the indictment which my accomplished adversary prefers against me-not in the spirit of a prayer be it noted-I am sure could not be seriously urged. He says, 'Old Mortality is very wroth with what he denominates "the religion of taste" and appears to believe that the lovely and the good are incompatible-that conscience and imagination are not reciprocally helpful attributes.' On the contrary, Old Mortality sets out by stating that there exists an affinity, if not an identity, between moral goodness and moral beauty,' and that it is the incumbent duty of the pulpit to appeal to the imagination as well as to the conscience. The only qualification he appends to this position is that, of the two, it is more important that the conscience be reached than that the taste be gratified, and that a service which only secures the latter end, fails in its principal object. In this opinion he believes the majority of sensible and religious readers will agree; if his opponent thinks to the contrary, let him boldly state it. Old Mortality has also in former volumes of this periodical developed his opinions upon bad architecture, uncouth customs and other spots in our feasts of charity' with so much emphasis and amplification, that he could not without being guilty of prolix repetition and the additional offence of appealing to his own