a few hours before his dissolu- | excellent of men. He died just tion." "Last Tuesday, my dear Mr. Webb breathed his last; and I was called to pass through such a scene, as I had never witnessed before, and of which I had no expectation: I had not seen him during his illness. On the afternoon of the day on which he died, I learned that he asked to see me. I entered his room with a sinking heart, but my imagination had pictured nothing equal to the reality of his wasted form. His eyes, half closed, had all the glossiness of death. He took both my hands within his; and, for some time, seemed unable to speak; after a pause he attempted it, and Mrs. Webb caught some sounds, which I could not distinguish. She heard him say, I could speak with rapture of the eternity I am about to enter, but my strength fails me. I then heard, My sins are pardoned through Jesus Christ we shall meet again.' ..... After this, he placed Mrs. Webb's hand in mine, and, as he still laboured to speak, I begged him not to exhaust himself, and told him, I knew what he wished, and would be to her every thing that I could. His lips continued to move a considerable time, as he held our hands, but not a word was audible. I conjecture he was engaged in prayer. After a word or two more, he lay as if faint and exhausted, and then fell into an uneasy sort of slumber, in which state I left him; and thus ended my intercourse with one of the most amiable and after twelve o'clock, on the same day on which Pearce closed his life fifteen years before.” Thus terminated the journey of my invaluable friend through this waste-howling wilderness, on Tuesday, Oct. 11, 1814; and, on the following Saturday, his remains were deposited at the Baptist Chapel, CannonStreet; and the event, improved by a suitable discourse, delivered from Micah, vii. 9. “I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against him," by his pastor, the Rev. Mr. Birt. In his person, Mr. Webb was above the ordinary stature, and of spare habit. In his youth his countenance was ruddy, but it was not the blush of health. His appearance altogether presented what medical persons would consider as indicative of strong predisposition to consumption. When in health, there was a pe culiar brilliancy and expressive ness in his His manners eye. were of the blandest kind. The tones of his voice, and a peculi arity of smile that seldom disappeared, indicated that his bosom was not often the abode of tumultuous passions. To this tranquillity, the continuance of so feeble a constitution, to the age of thirty-five years, must principally be attributed. It was "like the light of the evening, when the sun setteth; an evening without clouds." His mind formed a complete contrast to his sickly body. It was in his case, as it is somewhere observed of Baxter, "That he was equally famous for weakness of body and strength of mind." This men tal soundness in Mr. Webb was happily combined with an inartificial humility, which, at once, vailed and adorned his other excellencies, He had a power, a flexibility of mind, which would have rendered him distinguished in whatever he had pursued. His apprehensions were quick, his judgment sound, and his taste correct. With these advantages, there was combined no peculiarity nor eccentricity, but he united great industry, without which, geniis seldom of much use. The observation is, perhaps, of pretty general application; but it certainly applies with great force to him, that the road to literary eminence was encum bered with difficulty. He built at the wall of the temple of science, like the Jews at that of Jerusalem, in troublous times. us The energy and decision of his mind continued to the end; and the remnant of bodily strength, that survived the exhaustion of repeated attacks from disease, was brought to bear to the best possible advantage. He was great in the midst of his ruins. He possess ed the true criterion of genius; an ardour and enthusiasm in his researches, which were unquenchable; which not merely produced the most powerful influence in his own exertions, but led him perpetually to stimulate his correspondents and friends. His studies so delighted him, that they formed a rest, if not a recreation, from the toils of the school-room, His capacious mind was filled with as much learning as VOL. VII. could be acquired in his circumstances; which, with a heart formed by the genuine spirit of goodness, and, in character; a rectitude of principle, united with benevolence of disposition and sweetness of temper, constituted my excellent friend. 2 It is probable that, if his health had allowed the experiment, he would not have made a popular preacher. His voice, though harmoniously sweet, was not powerful; a nervous temperament would, perhaps, have prevented his enjoying a perfect self-possession in the pulpit. The judicious would have always been pleased, and those, whose piety preferred sense to sound, could not have attended on his ministry without profit. Mr. Webb possessed good conversational talents. The happy manner in which he im proved the leisure of his pupils in free intercourse, on, general subjects, greatly contributed to the popularity of his school. In his youth, he might have occasionally indulged in point and wit to the wounding of the feelings of his companions, but maturity of age, together with affliction, completely removed this defect, and left but the pleasantness of repartee,in which he often playfully indulged, to the gratification of social intercourse and epistolary correspondence. Several speci mens would be introduced, but from a fear of protracting this article to undue length, and of stepping beyond the bounds of the subjects to which this miscellany is appropriated. Mr. Webb enjoyed a cheerfulness of spirits, which his 2 H afflictions could not subdue. I received in the course of our As an illustration of which, I correspondence, I have not cannot forbear quoting from found one that is without exone of the last letters I re- pressions of tenderness; and, ceived. In describing his jour- under some distressing bereaveney from his house to the chapel, ments and afflictions which have he writes: " The announced fallen to my lot, the sentiments approach of winter, and the ad- of my invaluable correspondent vanced guard of Eolus, oblige are so just, and expressed so me, when I venture out, to put kindly, that nothing but a fear on the whole panoply of self- of swelling this article, supdefence; with mouth and nose presses the most ample epismuffled up in silk, and eyes tolary proofs of the wisdom, steadily fixed upon my mother piety, and sympathy of my earth, fearful of encountering | friend. the wrathful countenance of Eurus, Boreas, Notasque, procellis Africus.' creberque I recollect of Milton's Mammon, that Een in heaven his thoughts were always downward bent, Admiring most the riches of heav'n's pavement.' "I hope my thoughts are not always downward bent, though my eyes are. You, perhaps, were never so foolish as to wish yourself a bird of passage; will you forgive me for wishing it? especially when you recollect what Michael Bruce says of the cuckoo, that He has no sorrow in his song, Nor winter in his year.' His condition is certainly unique: very few others, either with feathers or without them, are so highly favoured. I rank with a less enviable class; with tortoises, snails, &c. who withdraw into their shells for the winter, in preference to "Starting and shivering in the inconstant wind,' and thus find security in torpor and stupidity." The heart of my friend was highly sympathetic. In looking over a number of letters, It has been generally imagined, and the conjecture is probably supported but too powerfully, that an ardent pursuit of literary topics, especially those of a philological cast, is unfavourable to spirituality of affection, and proper pursuit of heavenly objects. Possibly my literary friend might have suffered from this circumstance, but for his afflictions, which were certainly preventatives to the decay of the cause of vital piety, while that of literature was thriving. He was punctiliously attentive to the religious concerns of the family; regularly conducted their morning and evening devotions, except when prevented by indisposition, and frequently availed himself of striking incidents that might have occurred in the neighbourhood, or were narrated in the papers, in order to produce proper impressions in the school-room, and on the minds of the domestics. I cannot conclude, without sincerely regretting, that some masterly observer, who enjoyed and improved greater opportunities than myself, had not He that has a treasure committed to him by the owner, and takes the care and charge of it, not as his own possession, but only to improve, or keep it for an appointed time, for him to whom the proper possession belongs, must return that treasure to the owner, when his time is out; and is accountable to him how he has fulfilled that precious jewel be missing, he must give an account of it. So must ministers give an account of the souls committed to their undertaken to delineate a more perfect picture of the great and amiable mind of Mr. Webb. Our personal intercourse was but of short duration. It commenced, and, with the exception of a slight interview of a few hours, about two years since, it closed with our college pursuits at Bristol. I have been privileged for several years with frequent and free episto-which he undertook; and if any lary correspondence; and it is from this circumstance, together with the recollections I retain of college intimacy, after a lapse of fifteen years, that I have attempted this slight and feeble The office and work of miportraiture of my friend. It ap-nisters are not to last always; pears late, in consequence of their care of souls is but for a the materials not coming into my possession till a few days ago; and certainly would not have appeared at all, but at the solicitation of his widow, and in compliance with a request, dictated by the partiality of friendship; and expressed in the hour of dissolution. W. H. ROWE. Weymouth, April 1st, 1815, care. limited season; and when that is expired, they must return to their master to give an account. After what manner they must be called to an account, may be shewn in these two things. 1. The event of things, with regard to the souls committed to them, will be enquired into. As there are so many precious souls committed to their care by Christ, so hereafter it will be enquired what is become of those souls. As if a person has a number of precious jewels committed to him to keep, when the time of rendering up the property entrusted to him arrives, the state of it will be examined, that it may be seen whether any jewel be lacking or not; and if any be missing, an account must be Christ's committing souls to given, what is become of it. ministers' care and charge, and The charge of a minister is, in entrusting them with them as scripture, represented by that servants or stewards, necessarily of a steward, to whom the supposes them to be account-householder, going into a far able to their master. country, commits his goods; ORDINATION SERMON. (Continued from page 183.) I come now to the fourth, and last thing, in the doctrinal handling of the text, viz. That ministers hereafter must give an account to him that committed precious souls to their care. and, when he returns, expects that the steward should give an account of his stewardship. In such a case, the householder looks into the state of the goods that he left behind under the steward's care. The master, in the parable, Matt. xxv. 14, &c. when he returns from his journey, has his goods, that he committed to the care of his servants, brought out and laid before him. the gracious reward of their success. Luke, xiv. 20, 21. I come now to the APPLICATION, in which I shall only address myself to those who are pripcipally concerned in the great and solemn affair of this day, viz. to him who is now to be solemnly set apart to the work of the ministry in this place, and to those whose souls are to be committed to his care. First, I would apply myself to you, dear Sir, to whose care the great Redeemer, and Head of the church is this day committing a number of precious souls in this place. I beseech you now to suffer the word of exhortation on this solemn occasion; suffer me to put you in mind how great the person is, with whom you are immediately and chiefly concerned in the affair of this day, even the great Shepherd of the sheep, and glorious Lord of heaven and earth, who is to be your and our judge. You present yourself this day before him, to receive at his hands a sacred deposit, a great treasure, a number of souls that are to exist through all eternity, each of which is infinitely more precious than all the precious gems that the earth affords. And I beseech you to consider to how great a purpose he is 2. It will be enquired how far the results of that period have been owing to their faithfulness or unfaithfulness in the trust reposed in them. If any precious soul shall be found lacking, it will be enquired how this comes to pass; they must give an account what they have done with this and that soul that was missing, whether they were lost through their neglect or no; they must give an account what care they have taken, and what diligence they have used, and whether or no they can wash their hands from guilt with respect to them. It shall be examined by an eye that is like a flame of fire, whether the blood of souls that are lost is not indeed to be found in their skirts. We find, in the parable of the great supper, that the servants that are sent out to invite guests, return from time to time to their master, to give him an account, both of the event in their success,, with re-about to commit them to your spect to some to whom they were sent, and unsuccessfulness with regard to others, and also of their own doings and faithfulness, whereby they are clear of the guilt of their unsuccessfulness, and are commended to care and keeping; it is, that they, by means of your faithful care and watchfulness, may be saved with an everlasting salvation. You may judge how much Christ will insist upon it that you should exercise great |