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poses to call on you at Bath, and it is uncertain where to write to him, I have chosen to enclose my letter to you, that you may deliver it to him; and if you think my reasons better than his, pray enforce them, and get also good Lady Cocks to use her endeavours to prevent this young man's throwing himself away, and depriving our Church of so useful a pillar. I hear poor Mr. J. Wesley has so enraged the people against him by some incautious proceeding, that he had like to have been murdered. And we are not without fears that the poor Georgians will be quite rooted out by their enemies; both Spaniards and the English of Carolina combining to destroy them. So that for poor Whitfield to run into the midst of danger, is tempting of God rather than a duty. I send one copy of my letter to Mr. Rivington to forward; so that if you see W. ask him first if he has received any from me, and if he bas, you need not take notice of this, but return it to, Dear Sir,

Mr. Whitfield to Mr. Wogan.

Gloucester, Feb. 21, 1736.

Dear Sir, I HAVE just now read your letter upon my knees, and heartily thank you for the trouble you have given yourself in advising me, knowing it proceeds from a desire of promoting God's greater glory and true Chris tian friendship. But still I answer, my face is stedfastly set to go to Georgia. Not depending, I trust, on my own, but on the strength of the Living God. For hitherto, I am fully persuaded, it is the Divine Will I should go abroad. If I am deceived, I am deceived. Exitus acta probat. There is no way of being convinced which is in the right, but by making the experiment. Your letter, concerning Dean Berkley's design, I like excellently well. But then, Dear Sir, permit me to observe, that his and my case seem not

parallel. He had greater things in view than I have, and therefore his scheme was less practicable. Besides, Dear Sir, will you not observe your own words in the third paragraph of that letter, and likewise again in the last. None but God can tell what He designs for Ame-1 rica. As for my own part, I am persuaded I ought to go there: and nothing but a failure in success there can convince me to the contrary. But what need I enlarge further, having a design, ere long, God willing, to be in London, where I hope to thank dear Mr. Wogan, &c. * personally, for the kind advice given to, Dear Sir,

Your most obliged humble
Servant,

To-morrow I go for Oxon.

G. W.

Mr. Whitfield to Mr. Laseer. Bristol, Jan. 31, 1736.

Dear Mr. Laseer,

I RECEIVED yours, and after having sighed out my heart to God, for I could not very well speak, I now sit down to write an answer. Let my dear friend excuse me for not consulting him before; I was let hitherto, and therefore could not. God seems, by his Providence, mercifully to withhold so much opposition from me, till he had first convinced me it was his will I should go abroad. One word, my dear friend, answers your kind letter. I neither did or do intend going to Georgia, without the Bishop of London's permission, and being chosen Missionary by the Trustees. But how could I possi. bly do this as yet, being called otherways from London, which place I propose leaving, God willing, soon after Lent. So then, my dear friend, I think I have not hitherto acted contrary to the will of God, because my resolutions to go abroad were all along founded on a supposition that I was sent by the lawful powers ordained thereto. And I doubt not but if it is God's

will I should see Georgia (as I am thoroughly persuaded it is) he will still confirm the clearness of my inward call, and intimations of his holy word, by outward concurring Providence, and by a permission from those powers who are invested with authority to send labourers into his vineyard. To the utmost of my knowledge (unless my false heart deceives me) I desire simply to do the Will of God. It was acting upon that principle, first made me resolve, and still makes me continue my resolutions to go help Mr. Wesley notwithstanding the solicitations of some persons against it. But whenever I find that God does more clearly reveal his will to me (which I beg for Christ's sake he may if he would not have me go) and plainly shew me I should stay in England, I willingly renounce all thoughts of going abroad; but till then I must conclude with the same words I did a late letter to Mr. Wogan (which I would have you see). If I perish I perish. I will (unless God shews me to the contrary), go and assist Mr. John Wesley. You will not fail commending to the Throne of Grace, as I do you and yours. O Gracious Father, I desire only to do thy Will. Send, O send thy Holy Spi. rit to guide me into all truth, and convince my friends as well as me, if it be thy Blessed Will, before I go, that it is thy Will I should go far hence amongst the Gentiles. Even so, Lord Jesus. Dear Mr.

Laseer,

I

Ever Your's,

correspondent R. P. can be, I do not wish his interpretation of my remarks upon the manner in which the Judges pass sentence of death on criminals, to remain unanswered.

God forbid! that I should ever desire to see the laudable practice of exhorting the criminal to make his peace with God entirely abandoned, or that I should wish to exclude hope from his breast,-my only wish is, that the Judges should so qualify their exhortations, as not to encourage too great hopes of Salvation upon a late repentance, hopes, which if not injurious to the criminal himself, are very likely to be so to others who may be present, by causing them to put off to the last moment, that repentance and amendment of life, which, all must confess, it is dangerous to delay. For though, as your correspondent says, "it is

W.

go not from hence till next week. If you would answer this, I should be obliged to you.

never too late to offer the sacrifice of a deep and sincere repentance," he must allow, that it is utterly impossible for any man, in the hour of sickness or of death, to know that his repentance is sincere,—to be certain, that, upon his restoration to life and health, he would not return to his former evil ways.

I must still maintain then, that the present mode of passing sentence of death, without shewing the necessity of virtuous practice, tends to encourage this reliance upon a death-bed repentance, and as such the practice is dangerous—if not to the criminal-to those, at least, who attend the proceedings of a Court of Justice.

:

I would, by no means, deny those "lenitives and soporifics," your correspondent talks of, to the patient who is past recovery, but I would have the Physician so administer them, as not to raise false hopes of their efficacy in the minds of the

To the Editor of the Remembrancer. patient or his surrounding friends.

Sir,

BEING as great an admirer of

your

April 11th, 1822.

useful and orthodox pages as your

Bnla,

BURNING HINDOO WIDOWS.

The following description of the burning of a Hindoo widow is copied from the papers lately presented to the House of Commons. In a future number we shall extract some further information from the

same source..

Extract of a Letter from Sir
Charles Ware Malet, Resident at
Poona; dated the 18th June,

1787.

"I TAKE the liberty to enclose Mr. Crusoe's account of a brahmin suttee, which I think faithful and interesting.

"Poona, the 24th July 1786.This evening about five, I was hastily called to be a spectator of the shocking ceremony of self-devotion, sometimes practised amongst the brahmin females, on the death of their husbands.

"Soon after I and my conductor had quitted the house, we were informed the suttee (for that is the name given to the person who so devotes herself) had passed, and her track was marked by the goolol and betel leaf, which she had scattered as she went along. She had reached the mootah, which runs close under the town, before we arrived, and having performed her last ablutions, was sitting at the water's edge. Over her head was held a punker, an attendant fanned her with a waving handkerchief, and she was surrounded by her relations, a few friends, and some chosen brahmins, the populace be. ing kept aloof by a guard from government. In this situation, I learn from good authority, she distributed among the brahmins two thousand rupees, and the jewels with which she came decorated, reserving only as is usual on these occasions, a small ornament in her nose called mootee, (perhaps from a pearl or two on it), and a bracelet of plain

gold on each wrist.

From her

posture I could see only her hands, which, with the palms joined, rose above her head, in an attitude of invocation; quitting, therefore, this post, I removed to an eminence that gave me an opportunity of observing the construction of the funeral pile, and commanded the pathway by which I understood she would approach it.

"The spot chosen for its erec. tion, was about forty paces from the river, and directly fronting the suttee. When I came up, the frame only was fixed; it consisted of four uprights, each about ten feet high: they stood rather more than nine feet asunder lengthways, and under six in breadth. Soon after, by ropes fastened near the top of the uprights, was suspended a roof of rafters, and on it, again, heaped as many billets as it would bear. Beneath, arose a pile of more substantial timbers to the height of about four feet, which was covered over with dry straw and bushes of a fragrant and sacred shrub, called toolsee; the sides and one end being then filled up with the same materials, the other extremity was left open as an entrance. The melancholy preparatious completed, the lady got up, and walked forward, unsupported, amidst her friends. She approached the door-way, and then having paid certain devotions, retired a few yards aside, and was encircled as before. The dead body was brought from the bank where it had hitherto remained, close to the place the suttee lately sat on, and laid upon the pile, and with it several sweetmeats and a paper bag containing either flour or dust of sandal. The widow arose and walked three times slowly round the pile; then seating herself opposite the entrance, on a small square stone, constantly used in such cases, on which two feet were rudely sketched, she received and returned the endearments of her companions with great

serenity. This over, she again stood up, and having stroked her right hand, in the fondest manner, over the heads of a favoured few, gently inclining her person towards them, she let her arms fall round their necks in a faint embrace, and turned from them. Now with her hands, indeed, held up to heaven, but with her poor eyes cast, in a gaze of total abstraction, deep into the den of anguish that awaited her, she stopped awhile-a piteous statue! At length, without altering a feature, or the least agitation of her frame, she ascended by the door-way, unassisted, and, lying down beside her husband's corpse, gave herself, in the meridian of life and beauty, a victim to a barbarous and cruelly consecrated error of misguided faith. As soon as she entered, she was hid from our view by bundles of straw with which the aperture was closed up, and all the actors in this tragic scene seemed to vie with each other who should be most forward in hurrying it to a conclusion. At once, some darkened the air with a cloud of goolol, some darting their hatchets at the suspending cords, felled the laden roof upon her, and others rushed eagerly forward to apply the fatal torch. Happily in this moment of insufferable agony, when the mind must have lost her dominion, and the ear expected to be pierced by the unavailing cries of nature, the welcome din of the trumpet broke forth from every quarter.

"When the conflagration took place, and not till then, it was fed, for a time, with large quantities of ghee thrown by the nearest akin; but, except the toolsee and straw before mentioned, no combustible whatever that I either saw or could hear of, was used in preparing the pile. It is said to be the custom that, as the suttee ascends the pile, she is furnished with a lighted taper, to set fire to it herself, and my companion, who was a brahmin, asserted that in this instance it was

the case; but I traced the whole progress of the ceremony with so close and eager an attention, that I think I may safely contradict him.

"As curiosity may be expected to know something of the subject of this terrible, though not uncommon, immolation, I have collected the following particulars.

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"The lady's name was Toolseboy, her husband's Ragaboy Tauntee. tee. He was about thirty years old, and nephew to Junaboy Daddah, a person of distinction in this place. A little girl about four years of age, the fruit of their union, survives them. Toolesboy was nineteen, her stature above the middle standard, her form elegant, and her features interesting and expressive; her eyes in particular, large, bold and commanding. At the solemn moment in which alone I saw her, these beauties were eminently conspicuous, notwithstanding her face was discoloured with turmeric, her hair dishevelled and wildly ornamented with flowers; and her looks, as they forcibly struck me throughout the ceremony, like those of one whose senses wandered; or, to come nearer the impression, whose soul was already fleeting and in a state of half-separation from the body."

UNITARIAN MARRIAGES.

A Speech that ought to be spoken

upon the first reading of Mr. W. Smith's Marriage Act Amendment Bill.

WHEN it was proposed to enact that the Clergy of the Church of England shall solemnize marriage after a different form from that which is prescribed in the Prayer Book, I expected that so extraordinary a measure would be defended upon extraordinary grounds. But I was unable to anticipate any thing half so strange as the first argu

ment upon which this bill proceeds, namely, that our laws consider marriage as a mere civil contract, and that the statutes by which it is regulated having nothing to do with religion. I thought that our ancestors had observed a proper mean between the Papist who exalted marriage to the rank of a sacrament, and the Puritan who degraded it to the level of a bond and indenture. I thought that all direct interference, with regard to the validity of marriages, was reserved to the ecclesiastical judge, because they partook of a sacred character. But it seems that I have been under a mistake. The words civil contract are used by writers of good authority, in the course of their remarks upon marriage; and on this account we are to unlearn our old ignorance and prejudices, and believe that an engagement, which can only be contracted with the assistance of a priest, which can only be set aside by a spiritual court, and which, unless declared to have been void ab initio, cannot be set aside at all, is to be considered in the same light as a deed of bargain and sale!! Let the Unitarian produce an instance of any other contract, as solemn and as indissoluble as marriage, or which is looked upon as equally sacred, by those good judges of the tendency and spirit of our institutions, the great body of the people; let him shew at what period matrimony could be celebrated by a layman, except during the grand rebellion, when the constitution was subverted, and then perhaps it will be time to review the history of the marriage laws, and expose the weakness of the opinion which they have been now declared to favour. For the present it is sufficient to observe, that the sacred character of the marriage rite is just as much an admitted fact among us, as the value of a trial by jury. No parent of respectability would endure to see his daughter coupled to her husband by a parish constable, or a

lord-mayor. No woman of feeling and decency would submit to such a degradation. And the fathers and friends of the present bill would solemnize their marriages to-morrow in their religious assemblies, if the law threw no obstacle in their way. All this results, not merely from the natural propriety of the thing, though that is sufficiently obvious, but from the actual provisions of the statute-book-the known, the acknowledged, the unvaried regulations which, from the earliest periods of our history, have connected matrimony with religion. So much for the first very ill-selected topic, which the advocates of the present measure have thought proper to introduce: but it is sufficiently in character with the measure itself, to the consideration of which I will now proceed.

I cannot be expected to know the complete history of this bill; but part of it, and a very material part, has been long before the public. The precise period at which the consciences of Unitarians took alarm at certain expressions in the marriage service, has not been communicated to the world; but the first symptom of that alarm was made sufficiently notorious, and the relief then sought was of a very objectionable nature. A person of the name of Fearon objected to being married according to the common form, and delivered a protest against the ceremony to the officiating clergyman. Another person, Mr. Dillon, an Unitarian Teacher, followed up the blow, and contrived to insult the Church, the PrayerBook, and the Clergyman, and to get married, according to his own statement of the case, without going through the proper ceremony. Mr. Dillon published an account of his own misconduct in the Monthly Repository, and strongly recommended his own behaviour to general imitation. The first step, therefore, that was taken by the tender consciences, for which we are called

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