In November, 1823, on another reduction in the army, I finally retired from the service. The leisure thus afforded induced me to look within, not with the superficial survey of former years, but with a desire and determination to discover my real condition as a moral and accountable creature; in other words, the facts and verities of the Christian religion were revealed to my mind with new and affecting power. To many this will appear strange, to some ridiculous; and there are a few who will ask, why a soldier of spirit, above all others, should trouble himself about the concerns of religion. I answer that question by asking another,—Why should he not? He has as deep an interest in gospel truth as any other person; and if piety of life be deemed essential for any person in any station of society, it is not less so for him. I apprehend, that if there be any difference between civil and military life, in this respect, the soldier ought to be the most religious; for his life is usually in greater jeopardy than that of the man of peace. Death, it is true, comes to all men sooner or later; but the soldier often anticipates its approach by the perils of active warfare. Others have objected, that for military men, who are proverbial for licentiousness, to set up for extraordinary sanctity, is not only uncalled for, but absurd and hypocritical. I again ask, Why so? If soldiers are actually so very bad, both in pretension and reality, they stand so much the more in need of religion to make them better. Salvation is a girdle which encompasses the world; and why a man is to be excluded from its benefits because he had defended his country’s right at the sword’s point, and hazard of his life and fame, I have yet to learn.

But, say some, there is something so pitiful and gloomy in a soldier who professes to be religious. There we are again at issue; and I consent to try the question by this single test. I affirm the converse; and aver, that pity must fall only on the irreligious, who are often gloomy and sad from certain assaults of conscience, known only to themselves; while some of the most intrepid and courageous men who ever lived were noted for obedience to Divine law; and, what is more to the present purpose, many of the ablest warlike achievements ever effected were planned and executed by pious soldiers. What is more extraordinary still, we shall presently discover that the success of many an expedition depended upon that piety; and that the Almighty Ruler of the universe granted or withheld the victory, to or from those whose hearts were right with Him.

It is not a little singular that one of the first battles recorded in Scripture consisted of a well-conducted expedition formed and led on by one of the greatest saints that ever lived; and the circumstances, so far from being stated to his disparagement, evidently redound to his honour. Soon after the combat in the Vale of Siddim, which was full of slime pits, Lot, the nephew of Abram, was taken prisoner, and his property carried away by the four kings commanding the victorious forces. When the disaster was made known to Abram, he armed and led forth his trained servants, three hundred and eighteen in number, and pursued the army unto Dan. He there made the needful dispositions for the approaching conflict; and, as his detachment was of far inferior numerical strength, when compared with the opposing force, he properly resolved upon a night attack. To use the emphatic language of holy writ, there ‘he smote them, and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus;’ and to show that the discomfiture was complete, it is added, ‘he brought back all the goods, and his brother Lot, the women also, and the people.’ This action is enhanced when the principle is examined which induced it. Abram fought not for his own profit, but for the welfare and credit of his country. When rewards were tendered, he refused them. ‘I have,’ said he unto the king of Sodom, ‘lift up mine hand unto the Lord, the most high God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from a thread even to a shoe-latchet, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich.’

The valour and success of a religious captain are also shown during the hostile advances of the Israelites through the wilderness, nearly five hundred years after the event just recited. Among other opponents, Sihon, the Amoritish king, endeavoured to dispute their passage. We do not discover that recourse was had to tedious and doubtful negotiations. It was probably shown to the Israelitish leader, by divine impulse, that with enemies so treacherous treaties were vain. At all events, an immediate battle took place; Israel smote the foe with the edge of the sword, after which the forces ‘turned and went up by the way of Bashan; and Og, the king of Bashan went out against them, he and his people, to the battle at Edrei.’ That monarch fell, and all his people; and it is remarkable that the Israelitish chieftain was no other than the meek and pious Moses, who had received the special command of the Almighty to extirpate their enemies, who, we have therefore reason to believe, had filled up the measure of their iniquity, and were no longer fit to live.

An instructive and highly curious circumstance is recorded in the Book of Joshua, which discovers that religion not only sits well upon the warrior, but that impiety is the bane of military life. In consequence of a certain trespass committed by Achan the son of Carmi, the Israelitish army became absolutely useless. They fled before the men of Ai, who ‘chased them from before the gate even unto Thebarim, and smote them in the going down so that the hearts of the people melted, and became as water.’ Now, mark the difference when Joshua took the command. Five kings with their combined armies advanced against the Gibeonites, who, naturally alarmed, despatched a messenger to their allies, requesting help. Joshua, like all other good men, lost no time in doing a good action. He did not let the grass grow under his feet. He came on the enemy ‘suddenly, and went up from Gilgal all night, and slew them with a great slaughter at Gibeon, and chased them along the way that goeth to Bethhoron, and smote them to Azekah, and unto Makkedah.’

What is, in some respects, more singular, the Israelites were subsequently delivered from a foreign yoke by the heroism of a religious woman. This was Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lapidoth. For twenty years her country had groaned beneath the iron hand of Jabin, the Canaanite, of whose numerous armies Sisera was captain. Under the direction of Deborah, the Israelites, amounting only to ten thousand, joined battle with their oppressors. The adversary was completely beaten, so that not a man survived to tell the tale of their defeat; and, lest the shadow of doubt should rest upon these active operations, conducted as they were by the wise and good, they were celebrated, and thus rendered immortal, by one of the noblest odes on record, written, without doubt, under plenary inspiration: while pointed maledictions are levelled against those lukewarm friends whose supineness kept them from the righteous fray. Let us listen a minute. ‘The inhabitants of the villages ceased, they ceased in Israel, until that I Deborah arose, that I arose a mother in Israel. They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against Sisera. The river of Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon. O my soul, thou hast trodden down strength. Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty. So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord; but let them that love Him be as the sun when he goeth forth in his might.’ The result of these spirited demonstrations was of the most substantial order; for it is particularly noted that the land had rest forty years.

We find, also, that Gideon and Jephthah were of the same noble line of godly soldiery. The former rescued his country from Midianitish despotism; and the latter put down the children of Ammon. ‘He smote them from Aroer, even till thou come to Minnith, even twenty cities, and unto the plain of the vineyards, with a very great slaughter.’ I scarcely need add, that the sympathy of succeeding generations has been excited by his rash and thoughtless vow connected with the virtuous and noble-minded conduct of his daughter. But his fame, as the brave and pious defender of his people, can never be tarnished.

About eleven centuries before the Christian era, another prodigy arose. This was a man of superhuman physical power; and, what is most remarkable, the feats resulting from his prodigious strength were performed chiefly, if not exclusively, when, as the Scriptures term it, ‘the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him;’ and when that influence departed, he became weak as other men. In other words, while his heart was right with God he prevailed; and when he forsook the Rock of his salvation, defeat and ruin were nigh. In the height of his glorious career, he slew a thousand men with the jaw-bone of an ass; and when in danger of perishing from thirst, a miracle was wrought in his favour. ‘God clave an hollow place that was in the jaw, and there came water thereout; and when he had drunk, his spirit came again, and he revived: wherefore he called the name of that place En-hakkore,’ or, the well of him that cried. It is true he lost his life at last, and, in the interim, had been sadly abused; but his end was triumphant; and he fell, buried beneath the bodies of the slain. This remarkable man judged Israel twenty years; and if we survey the dreadful excesses in which the people indulged, as recorded in the latter part of the Book of Judges, the restraints of some such influential ruler as Samson appear to have been necessary. When there was no king in Israel, every man did that which was right in his own eyes; and that was, in most instances, uniformly wrong.

Another of the heroes of antiquity, whose biography illustrates our meaning, is Saul. The immediate cause of his first achievement arose from the conduct of Nahash, an Ammonite, who insulted the men of Jabesh-Gilead by epistolary insolence, and the threat of future outrage. Unable to defend themselves, they contrived to obtain seven days’ respite for consultation. This they employed in sending messengers to Gibeah, specially empowered to obtain immediate help. When the tidings reached the ear of Saul, he was greatly moved: the Spirit of God came upon him; measures were directly adopted to repress the raging of the heathen, and the deputation were sent back to assure their friends that, ‘to-morrow, by that time the sun be hot, ye shall have help.’ Faithful to the promise, Saul and his men were in sight by the morning watch; and the Ammonites, though three hundred thousand of them shone in arms, were utterly routed. Saul was a courageous man and an approved soldier. Though at last slain in battle, and his countrymen were defeated, it should be remembered that he had offended and forsaken his God by an improper invasion of the office of the priesthood; had been weak enough to consult a witch at Endor; and under a malignant influence had several times attempted the life of his best earthly friend. The varied vicissitudes of his life, and his untimely end, are therefore to be viewed as proofs of the position now sought to be maintained. Pious soldiers fight best. When Saul served God, he beat the Philistines; when he ceased to serve God, the Philistines slew him. The occasion of his death was touching, and called forth from a hand of no common skill a lament not easily surpassed: ‘The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places; how are the mighty fallen! Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!’ But of all the warriors whose history is recorded in Scripture, none is to be compared with David. Almost every step of his eventful life, from the period when he was taken from the sheep-cote to his complete establishment on the throne of Israel, was marked by a spirit of singular enterprise and valour, regulated and impelled by fervent piety. He is described even in youth as ‘a mighty valiant man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the Lord was with him.’ His combat with Goliath exhibits an astonishing instance of cool and determined resolution, especially when the simplicity of his attire and weapons are contrasted with the panoply of the tall Philistine. The Israelitish slingers, it is said, could hurl stones with amazing force, and precision so wonderful as to strike within an hair’s-breadth of the intended mark. David was, no doubt, a proficient in this art, of which the issue of the duel is sufficient proof. The Philistine came on, wrapt probably in steel, and in formidable array, preceded by his armourbearer. He then commenced a speech, somewhat Homeric, but replete with invective, in which, like an overgrown coward, he impudently invoked the curses of his gods upon his antagonist, and ended by intimating that his shattered remains should soon be the vultures’ meal. David’s answer was finely conceived, and as well expressed. Without further delay, he addressed himself to the fight; ‘he put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell upon his face to the earth.’ The military prowess and superior talents of David were afterwards shown, during a lengthened course of brilliant operations, in which he was generally successful.

As collateral evidence of the possible existence and moral worth of a pious soldiery, it is worth notice, that in the New Testament, which divulges the religion of peace and love, the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews in exhibiting ‘a great cloud of witnesses,’ whom he sets forth to defend and exemplify the truth, takes care to include therein, with special commendation, several of the heroes to whom allusion has been made. Were it not that the time failed, as we are expressly told, he had a desire to expatiate largely on their respective merits and services. He is, therefore, obliged to content himself with an extract, as it were, from the army-list, adding only a brief summary of a few of the more splendid excellencies of each. There are delightful notices of Gideon, and Barak, and Samson, and Jephthah, and David, and Samuel; ‘who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens; and of whom, waiving all other encomium,’ we are told in one comprehensive sentence, that ‘the world was not worthy.’

Independently of the instances cited from sacred record, the page of profane history furnishes numerous instances of sound and practical piety among the professors in the rough and repulsive art of war; and had we leisure for copious extract, there would be no difficulty in arranging a formidable staff, composed of such persons,—of men, too, who had been eminently successful in the strategy and science of hostility. One of the earliest and most extraordinary manifestations of Christian zeal is recorded to have happened to the Theban legion, in the reign of Diocletian, the Roman Emperor; who, it is said, rather than conform to the rites of Paganism, suffered martyrdom by the order of Maximian, to the number of six thousand. Another instance of ancient military piety is recorded in the case of the Thundering Legion, a name given to those Christians who served in the Roman army of Marcus Antoninus, in the second century. It seems that when that emperor was at war with the Marcomanni, his army was enclosed by the enemy, and reduced to the most deplorable condition, by the thirst under which they languished, in a parched desert. Just at this time they were singularly relieved by a sudden and unexpected rain. This event was attributed to the Christians, who were supposed to have effected this by their prayers; and the name of the ‘Thundering Legion’ was given to them on account of the thunder and lightning that destroyed the enemy, while the shower revived the fainting Romans.

Our own Alfred the Great combined in his own person that union of piety and courage which, when associated, are so truly noble. He was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, in 849. Those were dark ages; and the prince, we are told, was twelve years of age before a master could be procured in the western kingdom to teach him the alphabet. He felt the misery of ignorance; he saw the oppression of his country; and determined, if possible, to remove both. His improvement in letters was astonishing. He ultimately acquired great erudition. Had he not been illustrious as a king, he would have had fame as an author; and an old history of Ely has asserted that he translated the Old and New Testaments. On ascending the throne, he found that the Danes had penetrated into the heart of his kingdom; and before he had reigned a month, he was obliged to take the field against these formidable enemies. After numerous battles, fought with varied success, he finally expelled them from the kingdom. Alfred reigned twenty-eight years; during the last three of which he enjoyed profound peace. He died A.D. 900, and was buried at Winchester. All historians agree that he was one of the most valiant, wise, and excellent kings that ever reigned in England. There is great reason to believe that we are indebted to this prince for trial by jury; and the Doomsday-book, which is preserved in the Exchequer, is thought to be no more than another edition of Alfred’s Book of Winchester, which contained a survey of the kingdom. In private life Alfred was one of the most amiable men in his dominions; and of so equal a temper that he never suffered either sadness or levity to enter his mind. He was a remarkable economist of his time; and an explanation has been given of the method he took for dividing and keeping an account of it. He caused six wax candles to be made; on the candles the inches were regularly marked; and having found that one of them burned just four hours, he committed them to the care of the keepers of his chapel, who from time to time gave him notice how the hours went; but, as in windy weather the candles were wasted by the impression of the air on the flame, to remedy this inconvenience he invented lanterns, there being then no glass in his dominions. Of the piety of this consummate general there can be no doubt. Just before his death he was visited by his son, to whom he gave the following admirable advice: ‘My dear son, sit thee down beside me, and I will deliver thee true instruction. I feel that my hour is coming; my countenance is wan. My days are almost done. I shall go to another world, and thou shalt be left alone in all my wealth. I pray thee, strive to be a father and a lord to thy people. Be thou a father to the children and a friend to the widow. Comfort thou the poor, shelter the weak, and with all thy might right that which is wrong. Govern thyself by law: then shall the Lord love thee, and God above all things shall be thy reward. Call upon Him to advise thee in all thy need, and He shall help thee in all thou undertakest.’

Godliness is profitable also for the private soldier, and contributes to the confirmation of his courage. One of the directions given by Oliver Cromwell to the soldiers of his army was, that every man should carry a Bible in his pocket: the edition distributed was that since known by the name of Field’s. This arrangement, so much in accordance with the spirit of the times, was carried into effect when the Protector assumed the command of the Parliamentary army against Charles the First. Among the rest, there was a wild young fellow, who ran away from his apprenticeship in London, for the sake of plunder and dissipation. This fellow was obliged to be in the fashion. Being one day ordered out on a skirmishing party, or to attack some fortress, he returned back to his quarters in the evening without hurt. When he was going to bed, pulling the Bible out of his pocket, he observed a hole in it; his curiosity led him to trace the depth of this hole into his Bible, when he found that a bullet had gone as far as Ecclesiastes xi. 9. He read the verse: ‘Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.’ The words were set home upon his heart, by the divine Spirit, so that he became a sound believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and lived in London many years after the civil wars were over.

Religion and its saving effects are the same at every period; and, descending the stream of time, we may strengthen our case by relating an account of late but genuine piety in the last hours of a brave and accomplished officer. The following very interesting incident is related by Dr. Fresenius, Senior of the Clergy at Frankfort:

‘After the battle of Bergen, in Germany, among the many wounded who were brought in to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, was the Right Honourable George C. Dykern, Baron, lieutenant-general of the Saxon troops, in the service of the king of France. He was born of an ancient and noble family in Silesia, on April 10th, 1710; so that it was on an anniversary of his birth-day that he received his wound. He was of equal abilities as a minister and a general. In his younger years he had gone through a regular course of study in the university, and had made great proficiency in philosophy, especially in mathematics. He afterwards studied polemic divinity, till he reasoned himself into an infidel. During his illness, he showed not the least desire for pious company or serious discourse, till the surgeon let his valet-de-chambre know that he could not live long. The man then asked his master whether he did not choose to be visited by a clergyman. He answered, with warmth, “I shall not trouble those gentlemen: I know well myself what to believe and do.” His man, not discouraged, continued thus: “My lord, have you ever found me wanting in my duty, all the time I have been in your service?” He answered, “No.” “Then,” replied he, “I will not be wanting now. The surgeons count you past hopes of recovery, but every one is afraid to tell you so. You stand upon the brink of eternity. Pray, sir, order a clergyman to be called.” He paused a little, but soon gave his hand to his servant, thanked him for his honesty, and ordered him to send for me.

‘When I came, the man told me plainly the general was a professed infidel. I went in, and after a short compliment said, “I am told, my lord, your life is near an end; therefore I presume, without any ceremony, to ask you one plain question: Is the state of your soul such that you can entertain a solid hope of salvation?” He answered, “Yes.” “On what do you ground this hope?” He replied, “I never committed any wilful sin. I have been liable to frailties; but I trust in God’s mercy, and the merits of His Son, that He will have mercy upon me.” These words he uttered very slowly, especially “the merits of His Son.” I made the following reply: “I am apt to believe you are not tainted with the grosser vices, but I fear you a little too presumptuously boast of never having committed wilful sin. If you would be saved, you must acknowledge your being utterly corrupted by sin, and consequently deserving the curse of God, and eternal damnation. As for your hoping for God’s mercy, through the merits of His Son, I beg leave to ask, do you believe God has a Son; that His Son assumed our nature, in order to be our Saviour; that in the execution of His office He was humbled unto death, even the death upon the cross; and that hereby He has given an ample satisfaction for us, and recovered our title to heaven?” He answered, “I cannot now avoid a more minute description of the state of my soul. Let me tell you, doctor, I have some knowledge of philosophy, by which I have chosen for myself a way of salvation. I have always endeavoured to live a sober life to the uttermost of my power, not doubting but that the Being of all beings would graciously accept me. In this way I stood in no need of Christ, and therefore did not believe on Him. But if I take the Scriptures to be a divine revelation, this way of mine, I perceive, is not the right one. I must believe in Christ, and through Him come to God.” I replied, “You say, if you take the Scriptures to be a Divine revelation.” He fetched a deep sigh, and said, “O God, thou wilt make me say, Because I take the Scriptures to be Thy word.” I said, “There are grounds and reasons enough to demonstrate the Divine origin of Christianity, as I could show from its most essential principles, were not the period of your life so short: but we need not now that diffusive method, faith being the gift of God. A poor sinner, tottering on the brink of eternity, has not time to inquire about grounds and reasons: rather betake yourself to earnest prayer for faith; which if you do, I doubt not but God will give it you.” I had no sooner spoken these words, than pulling off his cap, and lifting up his eyes and hands, he cried out, “O Almighty God, I am a poor cursed sinner, worthy of damnation; but, Lord Jesus, eternal Son of God, Thou diedst for my sins also! It is through Thee alone I can be saved! 0 give me faith, and strengthen that faith!” Being extremely weak, he was obliged to stop here. A little after, he asked, “Is faith enough for salvation?” “Yes, sir,” said I, “if it be living faith.” “Methinks,” said he, “it is so already; and it will be more so by and by: let us pray for it.” Perceiving he was very weak, to give him some rest, I retired into the next room; but he soon sent to call me. I found him praying; and Jesus was all he prayed for. I reminded him of some Scriptures, treating of faith in Christ; and he was much delighted with them. Indeed he was quite swallowed up with the grace of Jesus, and would hear of nothing but “Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” He cried out, “I do not know how it is with me: I never in my life felt such, a change. I have power to love Jesus, and to believe in Him whom I so long rejected. O my Jesus, how merciful Thou art to me!” About noon I stepped home; but he sent for me directly, so that I could scarcely eat my dinner. We were both filled with joy, as partakers of the same grace which is in Jesus Christ; and that in such a manner as if we had been acquainted for many years. Many officers of the army came to see him continually, to all of whom he talked freely of Jesus, of the grace of the Father in Him, and of the power of the Holy Ghost through Him; wondering without ceasing at his having found Jesus, and at the happy change, by which all things on this side eternity were become indifferent to him.

‘In the afternoon he desired to partake of the Lord’s supper, which he received with a melting, praising, and rejoicing heart. All the rest of the day he continued in the same state of soul. Towards evening he desired, that if his end should approach, I would come to him, which I promised; but he did not send for me till next morning. I was told by his valet, that he slept well for some hours, and then awaking, prayed for a considerable time, continually mentioning the name of our Lord, and His precious blood; and that he had desired several of the officers to make known his conversion to his court, which was that of Poland. After some discourse, I asked, “Has your view of Christ and His redemption been either altered or obscured since yesterday?” He answered, “Neither altered nor obscured. I have no doubt, not even a remote one. It is just the same with me, as if I had always thus believed and never doubted: so gracious is the Lord Jesus to me a sinner.” This second day he was unwearied in exercises of faith and prayer. Towards evening he sent for me in haste. When I came I found him dying, and in a kind of delirium; so I could do no more than give him now and then a word of comfort. I afterwards prayed for him, and those that were present, some of whom were of high, birth and rank. I then, by imposition of hands, as usual, gave him a blessing; which being done, he expired immediately. Prince Xavier, who was there, could not forbear weeping. The rest of the officers bewailed the loss of their general; yet praised God for having shown such mercy towards him. I wrote an account of it without delay to his mother, and had an immediate answer. She was a lady of seventy-two, of exemplary piety. She praised God for His mercy, adding, that He had now answered the prayers which she had never ceased to offer on her son’s behalf for eleven years.’

And how finely was the Christian character exemplified in the life of Colonel Gardiner! This gentleman, when a mere youth, was engaged in active service. He signalized himself by uncommon exertions at the battle of Blenheim. At that time, destitute of religion, he sought ‘the bubble reputation, e’en in the cannon’s mouth;’ and while in the act of leading on his men to a desperate assault upon the enemy’s intrenchments, swearing most profanely, a musket-shot struck him in the mouth, and came out at the back of his neck. The infliction of the wound was so instantaneous, that in the rage of the moment, though conscious of being struck, he thought he had swallowed the bullet. In almost the next moment he was undeceived, and fell senseless. There he lay, weltering in blood, for some time; but being of a hale and vigorous constitution, he was observed, when the fury of the fight had diminished, among a heap of the dying and dead, to be yet alive. Surgical help was directly obtained, and he was mercifully given back from the very gate of death. It is well known that he afterwards became an eminent Christian. His conversion to the faith, like that of Paul, was sudden, decisive, and glorious; and late in life he fell by the blow of a Lochaber axe, nobly fighting, when nearly all others fled, at the battle of Prestonfield,—a capital instance of bravery, refined and exalted by the purity of religious principle.

The goodly fellowship of our devout and enterprising heroes must also include another associate: this is no less a person than Frederick the Great of Prussia, a man who, when almost the whole of continental Europe had combined to dismember his kingdom, arose with gigantic prowess, and defended himself with such singular ability and courage, that, while his numerous and powerful enemies were repelled, his influence as a monarch was firmly established. That the mind of Frederick was deeply imbued with Scriptural truth, is confirmed by his celebrated confession of faith; which, for clearness of conception, and the forcibleness of the terms in which his sentiments are expressed, shows that he knew the truth. He was unhappily led away in old age by the subtleties of Voltaire, who had contrived to insinuate himself into the presence of Prussian royalty; but that apostasy on his majesty’s part may be viewed as an error of feeble senility, nor does it destroy, or even derogate from the value of the testimony yielded to religion by the master-mind of Frederick, when the suffrage of his credence was worth having, in the prime and vigour of his days and the more leisurely exercise of his masculine intellect.

Old Colonel Berdeleben belongs undoubtedly to our corps. He was a favourite of the great Frederick of Prussia, who lavished several honours upon the worthy veteran. Deeply grateful for the distinction thus conferred, but more entirely overcome with a sense of Divine goodness, he observed, ‘Should I die this moment, I die in the favour of God and my king. I truly rejoice that my sovereign has assured me of his favour; but of what avail would the king’s favour be towards the consolation of my conscience, and what would it help me in my present situation, did I not possess the favour of God?’ Reasonings like this may be scorned, but they cannot be confuted.