no longer erect; the head sunk between the shoulders; and the manly voice, once of such richness, power, and compass, was scarcely audible beyond the platform. He was announced again to have taken part in the services in connection with this year's anniversary, but on the Tuesday preceding he was attacked with paralysis, and on the Sunday he was expected to preach in London, he, to use his own dying words, bid "farewell to sin and death."

Universally admired, and everywhere acceptable, alike on the platform and in the pulpit, Dr. Newton has, nevertheless, been the subject of diametrically opposite estimates. Whilst by a large portion of his admirers his powers have been regarded as something more than human, there are others who have not hesitated to characterise his native talents as only reaching mediocrity, and his attainments as short of even that standard. In this, as in most cases, both extremes are probably wrong. No one could have filled the place that Robert Newton has occupied for the last half century, without some sound basis for such a wide-spread reputation and general regard in the church where he had laboured. His character was one pre-eminently fitted to achieve and sustain popularity to a lofty and commanding figure, combining ease with dignity; a frank, open, manly countenance; a fine eye; a voice of incomparable volume, compass, sweetness, and flexibility; and action at once graceful and natural ;— he added just the mental qualities best suited to gain the attention and secure the admiration of the mass. His ideas were natural and fresh, and such as legitimately belonged to and flowed from his subject; never either abstruse or far-fetched. His illustrations were drawn from the common sources lying everywhere around him, and were generally apt yet homely. His narrative powers were unrivalled, and his nomadic life continually furnished him both with matter and occasion to turn it to good account. He possessed eminently that balance of faculties which combine to form that favourite Engish quality called-comnon sense. He possessed unbounded confidence, and complete command of his stock of ideas, and great readiness in their happy disposal. His language and style were simple, nervous, and forcible. He possessed, moreover, a frame of herculean vigour and endurance, and great natural energy. Travelling perpetually in all parts of the country, and accepting as constantly the hospitality of so many thousands, he was everywhere at home, and rendered himself everywhere a favourite by his urbanity and easy cordiality, his manners in private life thus contributing to his popularity as a public man. The combination of the qualities we have named, and the vitality and earnestness which accompanied them, rendered it impossible that Dr. Newton should be other than a popular man amongst a body like Wesleyans, who value usefulness rather than learning, and prefer the Gospel to philosophy. On the other hand, Dr. Newton was no intellectual giant as a logician, he was perhaps beneath mediocrity; of fancy he possessed little, and of imagination perhaps less. Depth of thought, subtle analysis, agonizing struggles with the mysteries which surround us, appeared unknown to him. Untortured by doubts, unconscious of metaphysical difficulties, untrammelled by the fetters of the scholar, the Doctor was essentially a dogmatic preacher. True, his dogmatism was often graceful, and carried weight with it, so that he seemed to speak "as one having authority;" but at times, when a theological Gordian knot came in his way, it led him, without trying to untie it, to sever it in a most startling and unceremonious manner. We remember hearing him on one occasion preach from the text in St. John's first Epistle referring to the three witnesses: he exclaimed, "Well! after all, let theologians wrangle as they like, if there is no Eternal Son there can be no Eternal Father!" We were very young at the time, and had not learnt that the question thus summarily settled had perplexed divines from the times of the earliest fathers to that of Adam Clarke; but the logic of the remark did startle us a little at the time, and perplex us how to put the case syllogistically. After all, perhaps this dogmatic style was well calculated to be useful, for the preacher generally dealt with those broad and vital truths which lay on the surface of Christianity, which come home to every man's experience-man's sinfulness, and need of a Šaviour; and the fulness, freedom, and universality of the salvation offered in the Gospel

-these were his chief topics: and, however common-place and trite his matter, he contrived always to appear fresh to his hearers, who hung on his lips, unconscious of the flight of time, "No man living, perhaps," observes the author of the Wesleyan Takings,' "carries on such an extensive trade with so moderate a capital." This we believe to be essentially true, and we think it high praise. It just amounts to this, that he used every talent his Creator had entrusted to him to the very best advantage. Whatever his natural endowments and mental acquirements, he allowed nothing he possessed to rust or run to waste: every anecdote or incident he picked up in the ever-changeful scene of his life was at once stamped with his mark, and passed as acceptable currency in the pulpit or on the platform.

Dr. Newton was a fine type of a Methodist preacher, one of that class whose peculiar characteristic was to reach the hearts of his hearers. He felt his subject, and his emotions were magnetically, as it were, conveyed to his auditory. "The pulpit was his throne, and there, indeed, he was a prince," remarks a contemporary writer; "he could, with the most subdued tones, fill any public building, so as to be distinctly heard in every part; and he could thunder in the full compass of a voice which had an unusual range. His prayers were a complete litany, and came nearer our notion of what public prayer should be than any uninspired composition, except our venerable Protestant liturgy. Unlike nearly all precomposed prayers, they had no pretty turns of thought, no mere literary graces, no recondite allusions, no formal order of subjects, no theological pedantry; they were simple in language, natural in order, humble in tone, fervent in spirit; full of confession, supplication, intercession, and thanksgiving-the utterances of the heart. His sermons were strictly popular; easy to be comprehended, not critical or abstruse. They agreed exactly with Hooker's description of the good old Homilies, now so much neglected; 'Homilies are plain and popular instructions.' Everybody understood Dr. Newton; the most illiterate could not misunderstand him, nor could the most fastidious be offended. His style was very Saxon, 'the well of English undefiled.'

"Dr. Newton's texts were admirably selected, expressing some great evangelical truth. This truth constituted the theme and unity of the discourse. His introduction was simple and natural-a vestibule to the temple. His divisions, likewise, were exceedingly simple, clearly and well defined, and with a natural sequence. Fairly launched, he then spread his sails, and caught the breeze, and rode triumphantly, bounding over the waves with life and spirit, which forbad you to think of the lapse of time, until you found yourselves at the end of the voyage. There was often great emotion in his preaching, but he never lost his self-command. The power of his discourse was generally sustained to the last, so that, although he frequently preached an hour and a quarter, and even an hour and a half, his audience were never wearied. He was unto them 'as a very lovely song of one that had a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument.""

On the platform Dr. Newton was, perhaps, even more popular than in the pulpit. As a preacher he was unquestionably surpassed by many of his brethren; but on the platform he was without his peer, we do not mean as a rhetorician or declaimer, but as an effective platform speaker. Here was room for the exercise of all his powers, some of which the sacredness of the pulpit necessarily kept in abeyance. All his fund of anecdote, his play of genial humour, his happy colloquialness of style, were here brought into exercise, as he delighted, amused, entranced, and affected his hearers. His speeches were always telling, and, for this reason, were for many years always arranged to precede the collection at the various meetings in which he took part. He hesitated not to acknowledge and avow this fact, and at times this self-consciousness was amusing, if not strictly within the limits of good taste. remember him a few years ago, at the Exeter Hall May Meeting of the Missionary Society. He rose to make his usual speech before the collection, and commenced somewhat in this wise:-"Robert Newton (loud applause)-Robert Newton, and -(reiterated applause)-Robert Newton, and the collection ! (Protracted

We

cheering)." There was pervading all the Doctor's platform orations-or rather speeches, for orations, strictly speaking, they were not-one quality which never fails to excite sympathy, we mean unmistakeable heartiness; the whole man was in his work, and it was the unreserved devotion of himself, perhaps, which gave especial weight to his appeals to the generosity of his hearers.

"Never," remarks a recent writer, "either in public or private, did he appear, without placing himself in immediate contact with the best sympathies of his hearers; sending every one away under the impression, that the man they had been listening to, had no greater delight than to minister to their gratification, no more cherished desire than to do them good. And yet, so much is there in manner, were the best speech or sermon he ever delivered submitted to the test of impartial criticism, it would probably be found to be not merely without originality, but without elevation either in thought or in style! and, it may be, wanting the voice, the glance, and the gesture to which it owed so much, in order to redeem the platitude of its ideas and the homeliness of its phraseology from the condemnation of insipid commonplace." The same writer adds:-"From frequent condescension to pure claptrap, and a too general subservience to 'Conferential' purposes, even the judgment of charity cannot acquit the subject of this tribute to individual distinction. But, upon the whole, his ministry was imbued with an evangelical tone and a healthful spirit; while, in the most trying times, he contrived, more than most men, to preserve a happy temper, and was wisely careful not to mar an unparalleled acceptance by showing sourness or stirring up strife. 'No man,' observes one who knew him well, 'is more free from acerbities in conversation.' The same honest writer gives him equal credit for being 'without the least tincture of vanity or appearance of inflation' as a popular speaker. By this excellent judge of character, the secret of his power is detected in his close adherence to the simplicity of nature; which his rare personal endowments enabled him to render, without either the appearance or the reality of art. It did not escape the same piquant observer, that Newton's thoughts were caught, as swallows catch their food, while on the wing; but, though constrained to acknowledge that no man living, perhaps, had carried on a trade so extensive on a capital so small, he claims for the subject of his discriminating eulogy this commendation at least,—that ‘no man exposed his stock to better advantage."

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Whilst the name of Newton has always been identified with Conferencism, and no one ever suspected him of liberal tendencies, it is also true that he did not enter with the avidity which so many of his brethren displayed, into the work of persecution and expulsion, and this might be regarded as the more surprising, when his habits of intimacy with Dr. Bunting are remembered. Referring to this intimacy, a writer whom we have already quoted, aptly remarks, that while "the Leading Mind could not have chosen for friendly distinction an individual more acceptable to others, or less dangerous to his own pretensions, neither could he have selected an instrument for the putting forth of his wily influences among the people, less likely to rouse suspicion, or more apt to conciliate dislike." In reference to his position regarding the present Reform movement, and that of 1835, however, we will refrain from further remark, preferring, at least in an Obituary notice, to drop a veil over that portion of his history.

The aged Christian, and veteran preacher, has been called to his rest. "It was a fine sight," says one, speaking of the Doctor's retirement at Southport, "to see the venerable man kneeling in his pew, and leaning upon his staff as one of the most humble worshippers, who had been accustomed to lead the high devotions of vast multitudes for upwards of half a century; his furrowed countenance full of devotion, humility, and serene joy; his altered appearance,-a remnant of himself, marking him for an early prey, and his full voice fervently responding to the petitions as they rose. It was a lesson on the power and comfort of religion which cannot soon be forgotten." However true that the events of late years have somewhat seared his laurels, there can be little doubt that he is now helping to swell the song of the redeemed above. May our readers one day meet him there!

His body was consigned to the tomb in the churchyard at Easingwold, on Thursday, the 4th ultimo, where it awaits the resurrection of the just. He was attended to the grave by a large number of his former brethren in the ministry, including the President of the Conference. Subsequently, the mourners adjourned to the Methodist Chapel, where a brief but solemn address was delivered by Dr. Hannah. Whatever may have been his faults or his virtues, on this point we believe all will be agreed, his life was a noble commentary on the sacred text, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."

RECOLLECTIONS OF MY VISIT TO ANTIOCH.
[SECOND PAPER.]

THE part of the city which we entered on our descent from the mountains, we found to be entirely inhabited by fellahs, who are actually idolators, but who, for convenience sake, pretend to be followers of the Prophet. These folks, for the most part, find occupation in the cultivation of the surrounding fields and gardens. Their habitations are of a poorer description than those of the rest of the motley community, being mainly mere thatched hovels, to each of which, however, is attached an extensive courtyard, in which vegetables are reared, and poultry bred for the supply of Antioch. Of their abundance and cheapness we had an opportunity of forming an idea on visiting the market-place on the following morning.

Before getting clear of the fellah huts, we encountered a stalwart figure, carefully enveloped in the loose folds of a meshdah or hair cloak; this personage was none other than Hadji Mustafa, the famous retailer of antique coins and stones. Ambitious to improve the opportunity, he hung upon our rear, and ever and anon called our attention to the virtues of some rare coin, some cunningly-engraved stone, some worthless piece of coloured glass, or a few dollars of the days of Geoffrey de Bouillon. We experienced one advantage, however, from his proximity, inasmuch as he kept at bay the troop of impudent boys who are so wont to insult the European stranger, and shielded us from the handfuls of mud and rubbish with which we should otherwise have been assailed. Master Mustafa was nevertheless a notorious cheat, and asked exorbitant prices for things that he himself had purchased for a mere song. Antioch literally teemed with antique relics and curious stones. The only victim to Mustafa's persuasive inducements among our party was the antiquarian, who for a while rejoiced in the acquisition of a rare, old-looking copper coin, but which, after a vast amount of scrubbing and cleansing, turns out to be a disguised English penny.

Entering from the fellah quarter, we passed directly through the heart of the town. In so doing, we observed various groups of Greeks and Armenians, seated on the cleanly-swept pavement, opposite their respective doors, enjoying their substantial evening repast al fresco. The fathers of the families were seated like so many patriarchs, surrounded by all the male members of their respective households; while their muffled-up wives and daughters were obsequiously ministering to them. Huge platforms of pillauf, seasoned with fried onions, a plate of stewed meat, and a salad of lettuces and young radishes, constituted the dinner of almost every group, most of whom, as we passed, wished us a pleasant evening, and invited us to partake of their "lowly all." The poultry, the watch-dog, together with three or four cats-attachés of the establishment-all came in for their share of the good things. The women of the households are accustomed to dine indoors, but not until their lords and masters have finished.

As it was rapidly growing dark when we reached the long string of bazaars, we found many of them closed for the night. Every here and there a miserable lantern, hung before some druggist's shop, cast an uncertain glimmer into the growing gloom. Wretched dogs were continually met with, growling and quarrelling over some well-gnawed bone. At length, passing the last bazaar, we reached a gaily-lighted coffee-house, before which, on dwarfish-looking stools,

were seated a goodly company of Turks, puffing volumes of smoke into the dark night-air. A band of Arab musicians were just tuning up for the evening's entertainment.

On arriving again at the doorway of our host's abode, our nostrils were agreeably saluted by the most savoury odours. The three old chandeliers had been burnished and lit for our especial benefit, the unusual glare of which, judging from the noise that they were making, seemed to have struck astonishment and alarm into the colony of sparrows which were roosting amongst the orange-boughs. Again were we the objects of the civilities of the little handmaiden ;-more soap and water, more clean towels, more coffee and pipes, were forthcoming, while our handkerchiefs were refreshingly scented with rose and orange-flower water.

All at once, exclamations in a right joyous tone, fell upon our ears, “Alla salah! Mete salarmi? Holloa! Who's this?" We turned round, and recognised the voice and hearty salutation, and discovered the smiling features of our amiable hostess, who had just returned from the humum, all perfume, rustling silks, and pearled jewellery. She politely offered to escort us over the house, a privilege which, from the novelty of the arrangements to the fresh European visitors of the party, was gladly embraced; but inasmuch as it would be impossible to interest my readers with an enumeration of the apartments we traversed, and the furniture and oriental curiosities we examined, I refrain from making the vain attempt. While we were reviewing the household goods and chattels of the extensive dwelling, a small round table, about a foot in height, had been prepared for our dinner, of which we partook with sharpened appetites.

The repast being concluded, we were again served with water, and soap, and towels; coffee and pipes were once more handed round, and the conversation speedily became general. The lady of the house smoked her narghilie, and answered our inquisitive questions cheerfully. For instance, we learnt that the rent of such a house as her own was about 400 piastres per annum, being equivalent to about 37. 12s. 6d. sterling. Whilst our friends were marvelling at the cheapness of house-rent in Antioch, a few sociable neighbours sauntered in, pipe in hand. In came the English consular agent, pronouncing a few words of abominable Italian; in came, too, the American, Austrian, and other agents, followed in due time by the élite of the merchants of the city, the house being quite a rendezvous for the notabilities of Antioch. Before long, a vagrant musician, with a harpsichord, strolled in. Music at once became the order of the night, and a few dirge-like pieces were executed with gloomy satisfaction. In the midst of these rational festivities, a couple of Turkish gentlemen were announced; whereupon the hostess immediately vanished through a side door, and scrambled up stairs in the dark. Every one rose to receive these distinguished guests, who turned out to be pleasant, talkative fellows. The hour was late before the company had taken its leave, and the last stranger had scarcely passed the threshold of the door when the exiled hostess was down again, and was busy superintending the making up of our beds for the night. Curtains being drawn aside, disclosed to view vast recesses piled up with coverlets, mattresses, sheets, and pillows. With these our beds were soon prepared, and we were left to the repose and slumber which, after the excitement and sight-seeing of the day, we so much needed.

After passing a night of delicious rest, and just as the early light of an oriental morning was peeping through the jessamine-covered lattices, our host gently opened the door of our apartment, his face radiant as a pleasant spring-dawn, and his lips laden with flowery eastern compliments. The windows were at once thrown open, so as freely to admit the fragrance of roses and a score of other flowers, as well as the early melodies of birds and bees. Our little servitor again appeared with ewers of deliciously cold water, and with highly-scented soaps and towels; and having attended to our toilet, and partaken of the invariable coffee, we, at the invitation of our host, sauntered forth for a morning's recreation and

exercise.