Let us now look at the power which we find actually accumulated in the hands of the Methodist itinerant clergy. In the first place, the clergy of that denomination possess a peculiar influence over the minds of their people; an influence which they do not possess merely by virtue of their intelligence and acknowledged exemplariness; an influence aside from that which pertains to sacredness of office and the right of teaching from the pulpit; an influence resulting from the peculiar organization of that church. The Wesleyan system of inspection and drilling gives to the preacher, a sort of influence over the people of his charge, which no other protestant can possibly attain. The constitution of classes, not only secures a minute weekly inspection of every member and a weekly report to the minister, but gives the minister powerful advantages for controlling every member through the agency of class leaders whom he appoints, who are responsible only to him, and whom he changes at pleasure. By this system the laity of that church are trained into an implicit ness of deference to ecclesiastical authority, which finds no parallel in any other protestant denomination within our knowledge. By this system, in its connection with other parts of the economy, the clergy are enabled to prescribe what the people shall read and what they shall not read, to secure the circulation of their own books and papers, and to shut out others, hardly less effectually than if they exercised a censorship over the press. In the next place, those who wield this power, are absolutely without responsibility, except to each other. Where the people hold in their hands the power of electing their own pastors, and still more where the house of worship which they build is their own; there the clergy are in such a measure responsible to the people, that, whatever may be theoretically the constitution of the church, a strong-handed clerical domination is impossible; the Argus-eyed spirit of democracy will watch against usurpation. But Methodism admits of no such checks or safe-guards; checks it has, indeed, but they are checks upon the people; safeguards, but they are the defences of power, not the protectors of liberty. Southey says of Wesley, "No man was ever more alive to the evils of congregational tyranny." Against that tyranny, his followers are surely entrenched. Again, this power is in the hands of a body of men, like a popish mendicant order, thoroughly united in spirit, drilled into perfect subordination, and to a great extent divested of all local attachments. The see of Rome found that the se cular clergy were hardly the proper instruments of its ambition; and that they were too much under the influence of local attachments, and had too much sympathy with the people among whom they dwelt, to answer fully all the purposes of the papal power. Therefore the regular clergy, the mendicant orders, were instituted, with the intention of forming a body of men who should have no interests, no sympathies, no attachments of home or country, to interfere with their absolute devotedness to the interests of the Catholic church. The itinerant Methodist clergy differ from one of those mendicant orders in three particulars, and in little else:--they are protestants; they are a republic governing each other, instead of being absolutely at the disposal of a superior accountable to the pope; and they are not bound to celibacy and individual poverty. But in every other important respect the parallel is complete. And whether the Wesleyan order has not, even in these points of difference, some compensating advantages, is a question which we will not presume to decide. Whether by allowing its members to marry,and then pledging the common treasury to support the families of the deceased, it does not gain as much as it loses, at least admits of doubt. Whether by admitting every member to some participation in the power which it wields, it does not gain more in security than it loses in energy, is, indeed, a most serious question. Certainly that the body instituted by Wesley is wonderfully consolidated and systematized, is a plain matter of fact. How slowly and satisfactorily every member of this body is tested before his admission, how carefully he is trained for implicit obedience and co-operation; how thoroughly he is imbued with the spirit of the corps; how absolute is his dependence on the constituted authorities of the body to which he belongs; how his natural love of power is at once gratified by indulgence and tempted by hope; we have already shown. There is nothing like it in the protestant world. To these considerations it must be added, that the Methodist itinerant clergy hold in their hands a vast and unknown amount of wealth, for which no authority under heaven can bring them to account. Money is power, not less effective, not less resistless, not less liable to perversion and abuse, not less terrible when perverted, than the power of civil authority. Not to speak of the thousands of Methodist churches and parsonages, all of which belong to the clergy and not to the people; we ask, who knows-who can estimate-the revenues of the general conference? Who doubts that they are vast? Who that remembers in what hands these revenues are placed, does not feel that in those hands there is an accumulation of power which ought not to be vested with any irresponsible body of men, and, least of all, with an ecclesiastical aristocracy. ART. VIII.-REVIEW OF MEMOIRS, AND SELECT REMAINS, Oɛ CHARLES POND. Memoirs, and Select Remains, of Charles Pond; late member of the Sophomore Class in Yale College. Compiled by a classmate. New-Haven. H. Howe. 1829. THIS little volume has brought upon us a gush of delightful recollections. In youth we all long to be old; as age advances, we delight to live over our early scenes, and join in the sports of childhood, as if, by doing so, we could roll back the envious tide of years. These memoirs produced upon us, for a while at least, such an effect. We gave ourselves up to the illusion, and again felt a mother's warm breath upon our cheek, and heard her deep-toned benediction-again dreamed of the world, its friendships and joys,-as youths dream; again seemed to stand, as at our entrance upon life, with the boundless prospect before us, "like a distant landscape sun-gilt," and again to hear the voice so thrilling once, which said "go and possess the land." Many weary moments have passed, since those visions faded first, and fairy images were changed into things to be felt, and handled, and acted upon. We think ourselves a little wiser for our experience, and if those who are coming after will accept its results, they are welcome to them We shall make the Memoirs of Pond a kind of text book to our remarks. This volume is an unpretending 18mo of 150 pages, and the "Memoirs" are those of a youth; yet some people live long in a short space of time, and some books contain much in a narrow compass. This is one of them, and it presents the life of one of those persons we have described. He was but eighteen years old at his death; but he was one of those who want not grey hairs to bring honor, and who leave behind them a name far better than that of " length of years." The object of the book is stated in the first two sentences of the preface. Soon after the death of the beloved and highly gifted subject of the following Memoirs, it was suggested to his friends, by several who had been well acquainted with his character, that a sketch of his life including extracts from his correspondence and miscellaneous writings, might subserve a valuable purpose. It is with this hope that this little volume has been compiled, and it is now submitted to the public. This has been done by R. Palmer, one of his class-mates, and he has shown much good judgment in its execution. His object is to introduce the reader to a valued and highly gifted friend; and after doing this, he lets his friend speak for himself, putting in occasionally a word or two by way of explanation. We shall remark on the compiler only to say that his style is pure and easy, and his selections apparently judicious. We shall now pass to some notice of the lamented Pond. He was born in Milford, Conn. in 1809. He early gave indications of an active and observing mind; manifesting an ardent desire to learn, and eagerly availing himself of every means of improvement. As an occupation for his leisure hours, he preferred reading to the ruder sports which usually engag; the attention of children; because he thus obtained, at the same time, both entertainment and instruction. He was not, however, wanting in vivacity; but on the contrary, was remarkable for his sprightliness and humor; often amusing those around him by the playfulness of his remarks. From a child there was a singular purity about his character,-a tenderness and delicacy of feeling, which led him always scrupulously to avoid whatever might be the occasion of pain to others. His obedience to the wishes of his parents was always the most cheerful and unhesitating, whatever might be the dictates of his own inclination; nor were they ever in a single instance under the necessity of correcting him for any impropriety of conduct. p. 2. The account of his youth is interesting to those who think, like ourselves, that there can be no sight more beautiful than that of a well ordered and affectionate family. Some of his earlier compositions are given, from which we extract the following ode: it was written at the age of fourteen. TO WINTER. And art thou come, old hoary head, Come, sit thee down; I joy to see I love to see thy clear blue sky- And when the fire burns clear and strong, Borne swiftly by upon the blast. There are some others of his early efforts which we should take a pleasure in presenting to our readers; but for these we must refer them to the book itself. This part of it, however, is chiefly interesting from the picture it presents, a picture we regret that the compiler did not dwell on at greater length, for it is to us one of the most gratifying the world affords, that of an American youth beginning to look around him, and to feel the force of the grand and inspiring motives which meet him on every hand. Travellers remark on the want of gladsome sports about our public greens and school grounds. Doubtless we carry it to an extreme; but to their observations we answer, that it is a natural result of our circumstances. "Pleasure with you is often the business of life; here business is pleasure. To each of our youths, from him who rolls in a carriage to him who begs his bread, the whole country lies wide and open "where to choose," and there is not an office of honor or trust or emolument to which each one may not rise, and in rising to which all stand not an equal chance. Now it is perfectly natural, that while your men are so often boys, our boys should early learn to be men." It may be fancy,-for on this subject we profess not to be free from enthusiasm, and wish not to be so; it may be fancy, but we think we can see in that age all the force of these circumstances,-can see in each tone and action and change of features, the spirit of bold and happy freedom; and we always turn from the contemplation more in love with our country, and more grateful to Him who has made our country what it is. Why should it not be so? Let us turn and look around us. On the east we have a coast 2400 miles in extent, and from this pass out vessels to all parts of the world. They rival in number those of the boasted " queen of the ocean;" they surpass her finest ships in model, and swiftness, and elegance of finish; their motions show a hardihood, and enterprise, and industry, astonishing to the inhabitants of other nations. "We find them," say they, "by our doors with the products of every climate; we send our ships of discovery into unknown seas, and meet them there." The effect of all this is felt in the cities and towns of our coast, and from them ascends the hum of a busy and happy people. But this is only a small part of our commerce. We make voyages on our rivers, and, if we may say so, on our canals, equal in length to an ordinary |