is satirized: the procession to the place of assemblage; the serion heard; the adjournment to a tavern, and the junketing which followed, being the subject matter, the writer evidently regarding a place of public worship as an incongruous locality for such an assemblage. It is thus summed up in the opening lines:— O Muse renown'd for story-telling, Now while the hills are cloth'd in snow; In social conversation sit. Come, goddess, and our ears regale Who were the men, and what they were, Another of his poems is, A Mournful Lamentation for the Death of Mr. Old Tenor, written after a change in the currency. He was also a contributor with Byles, and others, to "A Collection of Poems, by several hands," published at Boston, in 1744. An Elegy on the long-expected death of Old Janus (the New England Weekly Conrant) is no doubt from the pen of one of the two wits, whose productions it is not always easy to distinguish, and whose talents were combined in a wit combat which excited much merriment at the time. It arose from the desire of Governor Belcher to secure the good company of Dr. Byles in a visit by sea to some Indian tribes on the eastern coast of the province. Byles declined his invitation, and the Governor set sail from Boston, alone, on a Saturday, dropping anchor before the castle in the bay, for Sunday. Here he per suaded the chaplain to exchange pulpits with the eloquent Doctor, whom he invited on board in the afternoon, to tea. On leaving the cabin at the conclusion of the repast, he found himself, to his surprise, at sea, with a fair wind, the anchor having been weighed while he was talking over the cheering cup. Return was out of the question, and the Doctor, whose good-natured countenance seems to indicate that he could take as well as give a joke, no doubt made himself contented and agreeable. On the following Sunday, in preparing for divine service, it was found that there was no hymn-book on board, and to meet the emergency, Byles composed a few verses. On their return Green wrote an account of this impromptu, with a parody upon it, to which Byles responded, by a poem and parody in return. The whole will be found at the conclusion of this article. Green's satire was universally directed against arbitrary power, and in favor of freedom. He frequently parodied the addresses of Governor Belcher, who, it is supposed, stood in some awe of his pen. In 1774, after the withdrawal of the charter of Massachusetts by the British Parlia ment, the councillors of the province were appointed by the crown, instead of as heretofore being chosen by popular election. One of these appointments was tendered to Green, but immediately declined by him. He did not, however, take any active part on the popular side, the quiet, retiring habit of his mind, combining with the infirmities of his advanced years, as an inducement to repose. In 1775 he sailed for England, where he passed the remainder of his life in a secluded but not inhospitable retirement. He died in 1780. A humorous epitaph written on Green by one of his friends, in 1743, indicates the popular appreciation of his talents: Siste Viator, here lies one, Whose life was whim, whose soul was pun, HYMN WRITTEN DURING A VOYAGE. Great God thy works our wonder raise; Thy power produced this mighty frame, Round thee the scaly nation roves, Thy opening hands their joys bestow, Through all the blushing coral groves, These silent gay retreats below. See the broad sun forsake the skies, Glow on the waves and downward glide, Anon heaven opens all its eyes, And star-beains tremble o'er the tide. Each various scene, or day or night, Lord! points to thee our nourish'd soul; Thy glories fix our whole delight; So the touch'd needle courts the pole. In David's Psalms an oversight The part wherein the prophet fail'd. The task perform'd, the bard content, 66 *Byles's favorite cat, so named by his friends. With vast amazement we survey Where mackerel swim, and porpoise play, And crabs and lobsters creep. Fish of all kinds inhabit here, And throng the dark abode. A piece of Bristol glass. But when the winds and tempests riso, The vessel mounts above the skies, Our heads the tottering motion feel, Giddy as new-dropp'd calves, and reel And tribe of Penobscot. PARODY BY MATHER BYLES. In Byles's works an oversight A song to sing, when folks are drunk. Thus in the chimney on his block, Long pans'd the lout, and scratch'd his skull, The task perform'd-not to content-- Ill chosen was each Grub-street word; To hear it bellow'd round the board. Conven'd, to hear the drunken catch, Full fraught with flip and songs obscene, And, after a long stutt'ring, meant To sing a song of Josy Green. Soon as with stam'ring tongue, to read The drunken ballad, he began, The club from clam'ring strait recede, To hear him roar the thing alone. SONG. With vast amazement we survey Where punch succeeds to strong sangree, Drink of all smacks, inhabit here, And throng the dark abode; From cruel thoughts and conscience free, Our eyeballs look like glass. At once, like furies up we rise, Sick, as with negro steaks,* and reel Till we two moons distinctly see— Dr. Byles's cat, alluded to in the piece just quoted, received the compliment of an elegy at her decease, which is stated, in an early manuscript copy in the Philadelphia library, to be written by Joseph Green. The excellence of the lines will, perhaps, embalm grimalkin in a more than Egyptian perpetuity, and give her claim to rank, at a humble distance, with the great ones of her race: "Tyb our cat," of Gammer Gurton's Needle. the sportive companion of Montaigne in his tower,† and the grimalkin who so demurely graces the top of the great arm-chair of the famous Dr. Syntax. Our copy is taken from the London Magazine of November, 1733, where it is introduced by a request for its insertion by a subscriber, and is accompanied by the psalm and parodies already quoted. THE POET'S LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF HIS CAT, WHICH HE USED TO CALL HIS MUSE. Felis quædam delicium erat cujusdam Adolescentis. Oppress'd with grief in heavy strains I mourn In acts obscene she never took delight; I stroked her head, her ears, her back, and tail; JOHN CALLENDER. And as I stroked improv'd my dying song Ofttimes when lost amidst poetic heat, Then, friends, indulge my grief, and let me mourn, Look often round (O greatest cause of pain), Green, like Byles, and almost all men of true humor, could pass from gay to grave with grace and feeling. The Eclogue Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. Jonathan Mayhew, which is attributed to him, amply meets the requirements of its occasion. It is fully described in the prefatory argument. "Fidelio and Duleius, young men of a liberal education, who maintained a great esteem and affectionate regard for the deceased, were separated from each other for several years. Fidelio, after a long absence, pays an early visit to Duleius, his friend and former companion, whom he finds in his bower, employed in study and contemplation. Their meeting begins with mutual tokens of love and affection; after which they enter into a discourse expressing the beautiful appearance of the summer season, and their admiration of the works of Providence; representing, at the same time, the beautiful but shortlived state of the flowers; from whence Fidelio takes occasion to draw a similitude typical of the frailty and uncertainty of human life; he observes the stalk of a vine which has been lately struck by thunder. This providential event reminds Fidelio of the afflictive dispensation of the law of God in the death of a late useful and worthy pastor, which he reveals to his companion. They, greatly dejected, bewail the loss of so trusty, useful, and worthy a man, but mutually console each other, by representing the consummate happiness which saints enjoy upon their admission to the mansions of immortal felicity. They conclude with an ode, expressing a due submission to the will of Heaven." We quote this conclusion. ODE Parent of all! thou source of light! Whose will seraphic powers obey, The heavenly Nine, as one unite, And thee their vow'd obeisance pay. An Eclogue Sacred to the Memory of the Rev. Dr. Jonathan Mayhew, who departed this life July 9, anno salutis bumanæ 1766, ætatis 46. The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave, Live in their deaths, and flourish in the grave, Grain hid in earth repays the peasant's care, And evening suns but rise to set more fair." Boston: printed by Thomas and John Fleet. All earthly beings here who move, Thou hast the keys of life and death, Our morn of years which smile in bloom, O may our thoughts superior rise, Lord, in thy service us employ, JOHN CALLENDER. 123 JOHN CALLENDER, the first historian of Rhode Island, was born in Boston in the year 1706. He entered Harvard at the age of thirteen, and graduated in 1723. In 1727 he was licensed to J Calle Der preach by the first Baptist Church in Boston, of which his uncle, Elisha Callender, was pastor, having succeeded Ellis Callender, the grandfather of the subject of this sketch, in the same office. In August, 1728, he accepted a call to the Baptist church in Swansey, Massachusetts, where he remained until February, 1730. He was next after settled over the first Baptist church at Newport, where he continued until his death, after a lingering illness, January 26, 1748. Soon after his removal to Newport he became a member of a literary and philosophical society established in the place, at the instigation, it is supposed, of Dean Berkeley, in 1730, afterwards incorporated in 1747, with the title, in consequence of the dona tion of five hundred pounds sterling by Abraham Redwood, of "the Company of the Redwood Library." In 1739 Mr. Callender published An Histo rical Discourse on the civil and religious affairs of the Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, in New England, in America, from the first settlement, 1638, to the end of the first century. It was delivered on the twenty-fourth of March, 1738, the first centennial anniversary of the cession of Aquedneck or Rhode Island by the sachems Cannonicus and Miantunnomu, “unto Mr. Coddington and his friends united unto him."* It occupies one hundred and twenty octavo pages in the reprint by the Rhode Island Historical Society, and contains a concise and temperate statement of the difficulties with the Massachusetts colonists which led to the formation of the settlement, its early struggles, its part in King Philip's war, and of its social and ecclesiastical affairs. He dwells with just satisfaction on the liberal principles of the colony. I do not know there was ever before, since the world came into the Church, such an instance, as the settlement of this Colony and Island. In other States, the civil magistrate had for ever a public driving in the particular schemes of faith, and modes of worship; at least, by negative discouragements, by annexing the rewards of honor and profit to his own opinions; and generally, the subject was bound by penal laws, to believe that set of doctrines, and to worship God in that manner, the magistrate pleased to prescribe. Christian magistrates would unaccountably assume to themselves the same authority in religious affairs, which any of the Kings of Judah, or Israel, exercised, either by usurpation, or by the immediate will and inspiration of God, and a great deal more too. As if the becoming Christian gave the magistrate any new right or authority over his subjects, or over the Church of Christ; and as if that because they submitted personally to the authority and government of Christ in his word, that therefore they might clothe themselves with his authority; or rather, take his sceptre out of his hand, and lord it over God's heritage. It is lamentable that pagans and infidels allow more liberty to Christians, than they were wont to allow to one another. It is evident, the civil magistrate, as such, can have no authority to decree articles of faith, and to determine modes of worship, and to interpret the laws of Christ for his subjects, but what must belong to all magistrates; but no magistrate can have more authority over conscience, than what is necessary to preserve the public peace, and that can be only to prevent one sect from oppressing another, and to keep the peace between them. Nothing can be more evidently proved, than "the right of private judgment for every man, in the affairs of his own salvation," and that both from the plainest principles of reason, and the plainest declarations of the scripture. This is the foundation of the Reformation, of the Christian religion, of all religion, which necessarily implies choice and judgment. But I need not labor a point, that has been so often demonstrated so many ways. Indeed, as every man believes his own opinions the best, because the truest, and ought charitably to wish all others of the same opinion, it must seem reasonable the magistrate should have a public leading in religious affairs, but as he almost for ever exceeds the due bounds, and as error prevails ten times more * Deed of Conveyance. than truth in the world, the interest of truth and the right of private judgment seem better secured, by a universal toleration that shall suppress all profaneness and immorality, and preserve every party in the free and undisturbed liberty of their consciences, while they continue quiet and dutiful subjects to the State. Callender published a sermon in the same year at the ordination of Mr. Jeremiah Condy, to the care of the Baptist Church in Boston, in 1741, on the advantages of early religion, before a society of young men at Newport, and in 1745 on the death of his friend the Rev. Mr. Clap. He also formed a collection of papers relative to the history of the Baptists in America. Čallender was married February 15, 1730, to Elizabeth Hardin of Swansey, Massachusetts. He is described as of medium stature, with regular features, a fair complexion, and agreeable man ners. The Centennial Discourse was reprinted in 1838, a century after its first publication, by the Rhode Island Historical Society, with a large number of valuable notes by the Vice-President of the association, the Rev. Romeo Elton, D.D., of Brown University. It contains a memoir, which has formed the chief authority of the present article. JANE TURELL. JANE, the only daughter of the Rev. Benjamin Colman, of Boston, was born in that city, February 25, 1708. She early displayed precocious mental power, as before her second year she could speak distinctly, say her letters, and tell stories out of the Scriptures, to the satisfaction of Gov. Dudley, and others around the table,* and two years later could repeat the greater part of the Assembly's Catechism, many of the psalms, long passages of poetry, reading with fluency and commenting in a pertinent manner on what she read. At the age of eleven she composed the following HYMN. I fear the great Eternal One above; Her poetical attempts were encouraged by her father, who frequently addressed rhymed letters to her, and says: "I grew by degrees into such an opinion of her good taste, that when she put me upon translating a psalm or two, I was ready to excuse myself, and if I had not fear'd to displease her, should have denied her request." He "talked into her all he could, in the most free and endearing manner,” and led her to the study of the best models of composition, advantages of which she availed herself with such avidity that she spent entire nights in reading, and before the Turell's Memoir. age of eighteen had devoured all the English poetry and prose in her father's well furnished library. She married the Rev. Ebenezer Turell, of Medford, Mass., August 11th, 1726. She continued to compose in verse, and wrote, after her marriage, eulogies on Sir Richard Blackmore's Works, and on "the Incomparable Mr. Waller;" An Invitation into the Country in Imitation of Horace, and some prose pieces. Her health had been from her infancy extremely delicate, and she died March 26th, 1735, at the early age of twentyseven years. Her poems were in the same year collected, and published by her husband.* AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY, IN IMITATION OF HORACE From the soft shades, and from the balmy sweets Now while the earth's with beauteous verdure And Flora paints the meads in all her pride; Though my small incomes never can afford, But though rich dainties never spread my board, For a dessert upon my table 's seen These I can give, and if you'll here repair, Under the spreading elms our limbs we'll lay, While fragrant Zephyrs round our temples play. Retir'd from courts and crowds, secure we 'll set, * Memoirs of the Life and Death of the Pious and Ingenious Mrs. Jane Turell, who expired at Medford, March 26, 1785, Etat. 27, chiefly collected from her own manuscripts. Boston, N.E.. 1785. And freely feed upon our country treat. No stately beds my humble roofs adorn TO MY MUSE. DEC. 29, 1725. AGED 17 YEARS. O let me burn with Sappho's noble Fire, The Rev. Ebenezer Turell, a member of the class of 1721, of Harvard, was ordained in 1724, and continued minister of Medford until his death, December 5, 1778, at the age of seventy-six. He published the life of Dr. Colman in 1749, and left, in manuscript, an account of a supposed case of witchcraft, which he exposes in an ingenious and sensible manner. This he accompanies with some advice touching superstitious practices in vogue, in which he says: Young people would do wisely now to lay aside their foolish books, their trifling ballads, and all romantic accounts of dreams and trances, senseless palmistry and groundless astrology. Don't so much as look into these things. Read those that are useful to increase you in knowledge, human and divine, and which are more entertaining to an ingenious mind. Truth is the food of an immortal soul. Feed not any longer on the fabulous husks of falsehood. Never use any of the devil's playthings; there are much better recreations than legerdemain tricks. Turn not the sieve, &c., to know futurities; 'tis one of the greatest mercies of heaven that we are ignorant of them. You only gratify Satan, and invite him into your company to deceive you. Nothing that appears by this means is to be depended on. The horse-shoe is a vain thing, and has no natural tendency to keep off witches or evil spirits from the houses or vessels they are nailed to. If Satan should by such means defend you from lesser dangers, 'tis to make way for greater ones, and get fuller possession of your hearts. 'Tis an evil thing to hang witch papers on the neck for the cure of the agues, to bind up the weapon instead of the wound, and |