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two years after, he accepted a small vicarage near the city, which he regularly served himself, until his increasing infirmities disabled him, when he resigned this also, being resolved never to retain any parochial charge which he was not himself able to supply.

In 1702 Dr. Fairfax, the then Dean of Norwich dying, Dr. Prideaux was appointed his successor, in which situation he continued till his death. Several of his friends were indeed anxious on the translation of Bishop Moor from Norwich to Ely, that the Dean should become his successor, but he preferred rather using his interest on behalf of his friend Dr. Trimnell, in which he happily succeeded. The Dean being now disabled from active service, employed much of his time in writing, and published on different occasions A Life of Mahomet;' Directions to Churchwardens ; A Treatise on the Original right of Tithes;' but especially the work by which he is more especially known, namely, The Connexion of the History of the Old and New Testament,' in four volumes.

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These labours were indeed often interrupted by severe paroxysms of the stone, for which he was induced in 1710 to undergo an operation, by which he was confined for above a year, and sustained permanent injury.

The publication of the second part of the connexion did not take place till 1717, and the Dean being now in his seventieth year, and finding his infirmities increase, determined not to publish any thing more, but confine himself solely to his professional duties. Soon after he was seized with a paralytic affection of his left hand, which after some years affected his right hand also, so that he could no longer write. At length in the seventy-seventh year of his age, after having been confined to his

room for many a year, he was called to depart hence. He died on Sunday, November 1, 1724, and was buried in the cathedral of Norwich on the Wednesday following.

Dr. Prideaux was naturally of a strong robust constitution, which enabled him to pursue his studies with great assiduity. As a writer he is clear, strong, and intelligent, without any pomp of language, or ostentation of eloquence. His conversation was learned and instructive, with a conciseness of expression on many occasions, which, to those who were not well acquainted with him, had sometimes the appearance of rusticity. In his manner of life he was very regular and temperate, being seldom out of bed after ten at night, and generally rising to his studies before five in the morning. His manners were sincere and candid. He generally spoke his mind with freedom and boldness, and was not easily diverted from pursuing what he thought right. In his friendships he was constant and invariable; to his family he was an affectionate husband, a tender and careful father, and greatly esteemed by his friends and relations. As a clergyman, he was strict and punctual in the performance of all the duties of his function himself, and carefully exacted the same from the inferior clergy and canons of his church. He was always firmly attached to the Protestant cause, but without joining in with the violence of parties, or promoting those factions and divisions, which prevailed both in the church and state, during the greater part of his life. highest and only ambition was, carefully to perform what was incumbent on him in every station of life, and to acquit himself of his duty to his God, his friends, and his country.

His

THE MISANTHROPE.

'PAPA, who is a misanthrope,' said Mr. F.'s youngest daughter, who had evidently watched for a pause in the conversation.

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My dear, I am happy to say I do not know such a miserable character now, some years ago I was often in the company of one, but he is gone.'

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Papa, how can any one be a misanthrope? the dictionary says he is one who has an aversion to mankind; can any person really dislike every body else in the world?'

It is difficult to believe, Ellen, that such a state of mind can exist, but we do occasionally meet with men who strangely perverting the truth, fancy themselves living alone (as it were) in the world,alone in feeling-alone in tastes and character-this delusion prompts them to repress every rising feeling of sympathy with those around them in their own bosoms; and thus, having perversely determined to believe what is directly contrary to the word of God, and the dictates of that nature which he has given to human beings, they find their punishment in their sin, by ultimately becoming what they originally only imagined themselves-creatures without friends; passing a miserable existence destitute of those sweet enjoyments of social life, which our benevolent Master has prepared for the refreshment and solace of his chil

dren as they tread this land of trial; of course such a person must be unhappy, loving nobody and beloved by none. Could you suppose yourself comfortable, Ellen, if you thought no one cared for you?'

'Oh no, papa, I could not be happy if you and all those I love, did not love me.'

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'Well, my dear, and that is part of the constitution or nature MAY, 1839.

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which God has given us, and though every thing pertaining to human nature, since the fall of Adam, has ever been mixed with sin, still this principle of benevolent sympathy and love is that in which, when purified by grace, we can most nearly resemble our Maker, and it brings us more happiness than aught else connected with this world. But who was the misanthrope you said you once knew, papa, did he live here?'

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Yes, my dear, and as he afterwards became a very different character, professing the warmest affections of all who were aċquainted with him; I have no objection to mention his name, and describe the change which I witnessed during the period of my intimacy with him. You have often heard the cottagers speaking with veneration and gratitude of their benefactor, Mr. Elton. Well, Ellen, that was the gentleman I alluded to. When I first came to this village, five and twenty years since, Mr. Elton lived in the Manor-house. He was then between thirty and forty years of age; highly educated, so far as accomplishments gained in early youth, and extensive reading could make him so,-and, had the expression of his countenance betokened anything like happiness, his appearance would have been pleasing. He inherited extensive estates, and had apparently at his command, every thing to form what the world considers an enviable lot: still he was miserable. His natural character certainly was peculiar, though as was subsequently proved, there was nothing in it to prevent him from sharing in all the common enjoyments of life. He was accustomed to think deeply, but reasoning upon false data, he not only fell into error, but that error influenced most la

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mentably, a temperament highly excitable. He was destitute of religious principle, therefore his irritable and rebellious feelings found no balm to soothe them, his perverted mind without any gleam of divine truth to enlighten it, groped in the midst of a natural darkness, too deep for any ray of comfort to penetrate. After he left College, he spent many years abroad : sometimes wandering among unknown regions in Africa; at others mixing with the crowds which still throng the formerly luxurious cities of Italy, but always solitary. Communion with his fellow-creatures seemed unnecessary to him; so long had he formed his own society, that another's participation in his pleasures yielded him no additional joy. When summoned by the death of his father, to return to his native land, and assume the station and the duties which thus devolved upon him, he came unwillingly, and as far as possible, still lived the life of a recluse, once in the week permitting his steward short interview, and occasionally joining his sister at the dinner-table. This sister was the only surviving member of his family, and resided with him for a few months; but after her marriage, removed into Cumberland. She was amiable and intelligent, and every effort which a kind and gentle female could make to change her brother's habits, and reform his modes of thinking, she tried; but in vain.

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She mourned over the delusion which clouded his understanding, and destroyed his happiness; but this state of mind had been too long indulged, to be easily operated upon by human means, and she was constrained to listen to his assertions in silence, unable to convince him, that contrary to his opinion, there is, in human bosoms, a responsive feeling of sympathy, an intuitive perception of another's happiness or misery; an actual

enjoyment in the consciousness that we are ministering to another's comfort. These and many other points he combated, assuring her she was mistaken, and ere long would discover her error; he had never found a friend, but had always been deceived. He did not think there was any real love in the world, nor had he ever met with any one he considered worthy of regard; all that appeared estimable was a cloak to cover some motive they were ashamed of. To his sister's plea that she loved him, and he ought not to doubt her regard; he replied only by a bitter smile, convincing her that his own affections had been so long in a state of icy coldness, that nothing, save the bright beams of divine love, could recal them to life and vigour.

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Shortly after I came to the village, Miss Elton married, and though my visits received no encouragement, I continued to call frequently at the Manor House, and endeavoured to become in some degree sociable with its master. Month after month passed away, and cold civility was all my welcome. Conversation with such a character was difficult. I endeavoured to interest him in the domestic histories of some of his dependents, but he referred me to his steward, who was authorised to dispense his bounty. Politics he cared not for, and if questioned upon subjects connected with foreign lands, the shortest answer consistent with politeness was returned. Every topic relating to religion, he professed entire unconcern about; and in one particular I was grieved to see that his outward conduct was likely to be productive of much mischief in the parish-I mean the sad example he set of not hallowing the sabbath.

The squire was never seen at church; and as we, none of us know, how far our influence may

lead others astray, I thought it my duty, if possible, to represent this evil to him. I did this, and after using many other arguments without effect; begged he would attend the church, from the consideration that the example of the first man in the parish was of great consequence to me in my ministerial labours, and would materially impede or advance my efforts for the good of the people. Most unexpectedly this remark seemed to touch him, and henceforth he was present every Sunday morning. This was the first step towards that change, which in a few years was manifest to all. His conduct in the house of God was at first painful to witness; it was that of au indifferent spectator, but I was soon gratified by the interest which the services evidently excited in his mind, to him they possessed the attraction of novelty, perhaps this is scarcely to be understood by any one who has not, like Mr. Elton, passed many years in the neglect of public worship. He afterwards assured me, that at that time he seldom listened, he came, not to join in the service, but that, according to my request, he might be SEEN there. Soon, however, various passages in the Liturgy attracted his notice, more especially those texts in which the love of God to man is set forth. He then listened with attention; but he did not believe. No,' said he to himself, God loves me not, or why am I so miserable?' Again and again he enquired of his own heart; why he had been endowed with faculties for happiness, aud yet was still so unblessed.

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'On each returning Sabbath he now hoped to hear this mystery unravelled. But his mind was darkened so that he could not perceive the truth. During these months, I could not but perceive a gradual improvement, perhaps I should say a softening of his character. He passed his days and

weeks in solitude, wandering through his grounds absorbed in thoughts which he never divulged, conversing with no one, returning no visits; but he permitted me to speak freely, and bore patiently my endeavours to gain his confidence, by which I hoped in time to understand the unusual traits of a character which did not fail to interest, while it pained me. A physician must know somewhat of the nature of the disease before he can in any degree suit his remedies to the case. I need not say how often I left him disappointed. Mr. Elton was always polite and always reserved; and though I believe he treated me with more respect than many other of his neighbours from some undefined sentiment of regard for my ministerial character; yet I felt that his civility was cold, and my advances repelled.

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I could only wait and watch for a more favourable season. Often has my heart ached at the contemplation of a man so eminently qualified to become a blessing to those around him (giving and receiving happiness) thus lamentably denying himself all the enjoyments of a social being.

But, papa,' said little Ellen, had he no one to live with him and talk to him. I think he would perhaps have loved them, and been kind to them.'

When he had relatives, my dear,' said her father, he left them, and preferred living far away from them. Many died. during his absence, and at the time I speak of, his sister alone survived, acquaintance you know he did not wish for; but I quite agree with you in thinking, that had he been forced by circumstances to associate more with his fellow creatures, he could not have continued for so long a period in the state of selfish stoicism, I am obliged to represent. But I will tell you the end of my story. One Quinqua

gesima Sunday, when our Church provides that beautiful description of Christian charity to be read for the epistle; Mr. Elton was present as usual. The passage struck him as remarkable, surely he thought, he had never heard it before; nor was he able to drive the words from his memory. On the following morning I called on him, and to my surprise he introduced the subject-" Thinketh no evil” -he repeated, I have been thinking evil all my life-evil of my neighbours-" doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own. Do you suppose Mr. F. there is any one who answers to this description in the world?'

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There are many, my dear sir,' I replied,' who strive to become what the Apostle pourtrays, but you know the human heart is full of envy, hatred, malice, selfishness; before it is renewed by divine grace, and cannot produce such blessed fruits as Christian love and peace.' A long conversation followed, during which I was astonished at the ignorance he displayed of most of the plainest religious truths; had he ever known them, they had passed from his recollection, and texts of scripture which I occasionally quoted were a strange language. From this time a real intimacy was established between us; he begged me to say freely all I thought, and though not at all times unreserved himself, was never offended at my openness; on the contrary, he seemed grateful for the desire I manifested to cultivate his friendship. Our intercourse became very frequent, and of necessity I soon heard him express the sentiments and opinions which had till now influenced his mind and operated so sadly on his conduct. I always endeavoured to answer his assertions by texts of scripture; for experience has proved to me that no other language so directly conveys the truth, or convinces man of error

and of sin. He was by no means an infidel, or scoffer at religion; but much too careless to believe any doctrine, too indifferent to search out any truth. In a state of natural alienation from his Maker, and ignorant of his dealings with the creatures he has formed, his understanding was blinded, his affections deadened, and far from supposing his unhappiness proceeded from his own corrupt heart, he rashly quarrelled with all mankind, and forswore all companionship with them.

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told me he had never met a human being who could love him, and in return, I enquired if he had ever testified his regard for others; had he ever felt that concern for their happiness, which would inspire them with confidence, excite their gratitude, and win their regard. He seemed to recollect that he had not, but assured me that in early life, his character had ever been mistaken, and those he could have esteemed, had always avoided him, giving him no cordiality of love, or sympathy of sentiment. I hinted that perhaps he had expected too much return from persons upon whom he had bestowed but a small portion of confidence, and enquired whether his own reserve of character had not deprived him of the warm affection of many hearts, which were unable to penetrate the veil which always concealed his own feelings.

'Again and again were these conversations repeated. I tried to believe my arguments were not always useless; and I well remember once remarking to him, that it is well for us sometimes to find that human sympathy is of no avail, for then we fly for consolation to that " Friend who sticketh closer than a brother," we seek for help and comfort in such moments from HIM, who as the Father of our spirits, knoweth whereof we are made, and can give to his chil

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