cle of a barn, in a county of which we do not think it
proper to mention the name, finding that divinity was not by itself a
sufficiently lucrative profession, resolved to combine with it that of
dog-stealing. He was, by ill-fortune, detected in several offences of
this description, and was in consequence brought before two justices,
who, in virtue of the powers given them by an act of parliament,
sentenced him to a whipping for each theft. The degrading punishment
inflicted on the pastor naturally thinned the flock; and the poor man
was in danger of wanting bread. He accordingly put forth a handbill
solemnly protesting his innocence, describing his sufferings, and
appealing to the Christian charity of the public; and to his pathetic
address he prefixed this most appropriate text: "Thrice was I beaten
with rods.--St Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians." He did not perceive
that, though St Paul had been scourged, no number of whippings, however
severe, will of themselves entitle a man to be considered as an apostle.
Mr Sadler seems to us to have fallen into a somewhat similar error. He
should remember that, though Locke may have been laughed at, so has Sir
Claudius Hunter; and that it takes something more than the laughter of
all the world to make a Locke.

The body of this pamphlet by no means justifies the parallel so modestly
insinuated on the title-page. Yet we must own that, though Mr Sadler
has not risen to the level of Locke, he has done what was almost as
difficult, if not as honourable--he has fallen below his own. He is at
best a bad writer. His arrangement is an elaborate confusion. His style
has been constructed, with great care, in such a manner as to produce
the least possible effect by means of the greatest possible number of
words. Aspiring to the exalted character of a Christian philosopher, he
can never preserve through a single paragraph either the calmness of a
philosopher or the meekness of a Christian. His ill-nature would make a
very little wit formidable. But, happily, his efforts to wound resemble
those of a juggler's snake. The bags of poison are full, but the fang is
wanting. In this foolish pamphlet, all the unpleasant peculiarities of
his style and temper are brought out in the strongest manner. He is from
the beginning to the end in a paroxysm of rage, and would certainly do
us some mischief if he knew how. We will give a single instance for the
present. Others will present themselves as we pro