{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44469/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44469","id":"gutenberg_44469","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44469","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian life","Christian life -- Pictorial works"],"text":"Transcriber's note:\n\nText enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\nSmall capital text has been replaced with all capitals.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: cover]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON.\n\n  [Illustration:\n\n  DRAWN BY G. H. THOMAS.       ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS.\n\n  THE OLD SHEPHERD.\n\n  Vol. i. page 2.]\n\n  [Illustration:\n\n  the\n  Sheepfold\n  and the\n  Common\n  OR\n  WITHIN & WITHOUT.\n\n  Blackie & Son Glasgow Edinburgh and London.]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON:\n\n  OR,\n\n  WITHIN AND WITHOUT.\n\n\n  VOL. I.\n\n  \"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow\n        me.\"--JOHN x. 27.\n\n  \"Them that are without God judgeth.\"--1 COR. v. 13.\n\n  [Illustration: logo]\n\n  BLACKIE AND SON:\n\n  GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, LONDON, AND NEW YORK.\n\n  MDCCCLXI.\n\n\n  GLASGOW:\n\n  W. G. BLACKIE AND CO., PRINTERS,\n\n  VILLAFIELD.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThis Work was originally published, above thirty years ago,\nunder the title of the _Evangelical Rambler_. It has long been\nout of print; and its republication at the present time has been\nrecommended, as calculated to assist in arresting the progress\nof some popular errors and dangerous institutions, and in aiding\nthe advancement of truth and social happiness. This opinion was\nstrengthened by a knowledge of the fact, that, according to the most\naccurate calculations, from sixty thousand to a hundred thousand\ncopies of the Work, under its original title, were issued from the\nEnglish press, whilst in America it obtained an equally extended\ncirculation; and from the still more important fact of the Author\nhaving received, from a large number of persons, assurances, both by\nletter and personal interviews, of their having derived their first\nreligious impressions and convictions from perusing its pages. A new\nand thoroughly-revised Edition is, therefore, now issued, under the\ntitle of \"THE SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON,\" as being more descriptive\nof the aim and intention of the Work than its former name.\n\nThe object of the Work is to afford instruction and amusement,\nconveyed by a simple narration of the events of every-day life. In\nconstructing his story, the Author has availed himself occasionally\nof the conceptions of his fancy, and at other times he has crowded\ninto a narrow compass facts and incidents culled from an extended\nperiod of his history; but reality forms the basis of every\nnarrative and of every scene he has described. He has departed\nfrom the common-place habit of presenting the grand truths of the\nChristian faith in didactic and dogmatic statements, preferring the\ndramatic form, as more likely to arrest the attention and interest\nthe feelings, especially of the youthful and imaginative portion\nof the community. In adopting this style of composition, he has\nthus endeavoured to follow the footsteps of the great Prophet of\nIsrael, who often spake in parables, veiling truth in a beauteous\nexternal vehicle, to captivate and teach his hearers, while their\nprejudices were lying dormant. In no book of human authorship can we\nfind specimens of imaginative composition that will compare with the\nfollowing examples from the New Testament, which the Author quotes,\nin illustration and defence of the principle on which his Work is\nbased.\n\nOn no occasion during the ministry of Jesus Christ are we so\nthoroughly convinced of the fatal danger of trusting in our own\nattainments and doings for our salvation, and of the absolute\nsafety of reposing exclusive confidence in Him for this inestimable\nblessing, as when he places us in imagination on the shore, after\nthe desolating storm has completed its work of destruction, leaving\nus to gaze on the ruins of the one house erected on the sand; while\nwe see the other remaining secure on the unmoved and unshaken rock,\nin stern and tranquil defiance of all tempests and hurricanes. _See_\nMatt. vii. 24-28.\n\nWe have more definite and more vivid impressions of the invisible\nworld--of the calm repose and fraternal fellowship of the saved, and\nof the privations and anguish of the lost, when reading our Lord's\ndescription of the condition of Lazarus and the rich man, than is\nproduced on our minds by his announcement of the issue of the day of\njudgment, when the wicked go away into everlasting punishment, and\nthe righteous into life eternal. Luke xvi. 19-26.\n\nThe Work, under its new title, \"THE SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON,\" has\nundergone a very careful revision; many portions of the original\nhave been re-written, and others omitted to make room for new\nmatter of more interest and importance at the present time. While\ncarrying out the main object of the Work, as already adverted\nto--namely, to present the grand doctrines of the Christian faith in\na pleasing and attractive manner--the Author has also endeavoured to\nelucidate various topics important to the church at large and to the\nwell-being of society in general; and though he has not plunged into\nthe mazes of controversy, with the obscure and often unintelligible\nadvocates of the theological heresies of the age, yet many of the\nmore prominent of these have been subjected to a severe and, he\ntrusts, an impartial examination.\n\nIf the re-issue of this Work should prove as successful in conveying\nspiritual life to the spiritually dead--in relieving the anxious\ninquirer from his misgivings and perplexities--and in administering\nthe consolations of faith and hope to the devout believer, while\npassing through the varied seasons of his eventful history, as it\nproved in its less perfect and less attractive form--then, whether\nliving or dying, the Author will indulge the hope of meeting many,\nat the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ, who will be to him a crown\nof rejoicing for ever.\n\n[Illustration: decoration]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nVOL I.\n\n\n                                         _Page_\n\n  The Lonely Widow,                           1\n\n  The Widow's Son,                           11\n\n  The Widow's Son Reclaimed,                 21\n\n  Fairmount,                                 32\n\n  A Morning's Ramble,                        43\n\n  The Horningsham Sailor,                    53\n\n  The Rector of Broadhurst,                  65\n\n  A Visit to the Rectory,                    76\n\n  Saturday Evening at Fairmount,             92\n\n  A Sabbath Morning at Fairmount,           107\n\n  Sabbath Evening at Fairmount,             121\n\n  The Bible Disdained,                      132\n\n  The Bible Precious,                       149\n\n  The Family of the Roscoes,                154\n\n  The Social Party,                         164\n\n  Miss Roscoe,                              174\n\n  A Village Funeral,                        186\n\n  Miss Roscoe withdraws from Gay Life,      197\n\n  Fresh Perplexities,                       209\n\n  The Religious Party,                      217\n\n  Miss Roscoe,                              226\n\n  The Family of the Lawsons,                235\n\n  Calm Discussion,                          246\n\n  Self-Delusion,                            257\n\n  A Night Calamity,                         266\n\n  A Surprise,                               276\n\n  The Consultation,                         287\n\n  The Dark Vale Illumined,                  297\n\n  Intemperate Zeal,                         307\n\n  Baptismal Regeneration a Fiction,         317\n\n  The Retired Christian,                    328\n\n  Spiritual Regeneration a Reality,         336\n\n  The Evidences of Spiritual Regeneration,  346\n\n  On Conversion,                            357\n\n  The Tendency of Evangelical Preaching,    370\n\n  On Attending an Evangelical Ministry,     383\n\n  The Unhappy One,                          397\n\n  The Scene Changes,                        410\n\n  The Tractarian at Fault,                  421\n\n  The Popular Delusion,                     443\n\n  The Churchman's Lament,                   455\n\n  Right at Last,                            478\n\n  The Quakeress,                            495\n\n  An Escape from a False Refuge,            518\n\n  Christmas,                                544\n\n  Winter Scenes,                            560\n\n  On Apostolical Succession,                574\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\nVOL. I.\n\n\n                                                      _Page_\n\n  THE OLD SHEPHERD,                          _Frontispiece_.\n\n  WITHIN AND WITHOUT,                      _Engraved Title_.\n\n  Return of the Widow's Son,                              22\n\n  A Prospect of Fairmount,                                32\n\n  First Interview with Farmer Pickford,                   47\n\n  The Church of the Neglected Parish,                     66\n\n  Mr. Guion's First Interview with the Misses Brownjohn,  82\n\n  A Lamb of the Flock Borne to her Rest,                  87\n\n  The Woodman's Family in Affliction,                    105\n\n  \"We Work on Sunday till Dinner-time,\"                  110\n\n  Mr. Tennent and the Tract-seller,                      151\n\n  The House of Mourning,                                 187\n\n  Evening Walk--Moonrise,                                261\n\n  The Lost Child Restored,                               270\n\n  The Dark Vale Illumined,                               300\n\n  The Discussion in the Stage Coach,                     423\n\n  Christmas Eve,                                         551\n\n  The Death of the Woodman,                              570\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nSHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LONELY WIDOW.\n\n\nIn the summer of the year 18--, I took an excursion through part\nof the west of England; and after travelling on horseback several\ndays, I resolved to tarry at the beautiful village of Stanmoor.\nPassing along, I stopped in front of a small but respectable looking\ninn, whose honeysuckled porch and tidy exterior promised to afford\na tranquil and comfortable place of sojourn, and I made up my mind\nto rest for a season beneath its humble roof. Having taken my\nhorse to the stable, and given the hostler instructions to take\ngood care of him, I was shown into a neat small back room, which\ncommanded a very beautiful view. As I stood gazing and musing while\nthe homely-looking landlady was preparing my coffee, the lines of\nMilton's Morning Hymn recurred to my recollection; but never, till\nthat moment, had they produced such an exciting effect:--\n\n    \"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good:\n     Almighty! Thine this universal frame:\n     Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!\n     Unspeakable: who sitt'st above these heav'ns,\n     To us invisible, or dimly seen\n     In these thy lowest works; yet these declare\n     Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.\"\n\nMy cogitations were interrupted by the landlady, who, as a mark of\nrespect, herself brought in my coffee, &c., put a small bell on the\ntable, and assured me, with a great deal of good-natured ease, that\nshe would endeavour to make me comfortable as long as I chose to\nhonour her house with my company. Having partaken of the provision\nof the table, I resolved on taking a walk, and was told, that if I\nturned short round to the right when past the clump of fir-trees, I\nshould soon come to a pleasant valley. This direction I followed;\nand in about a quarter of an hour I entered one of the most romantic\nvales I have ever visited. The sun was still gilding the tops of the\ndistant hills; the blue sky was enlivened by the song of the thrush,\nand the responding notes of the yellow-hammer. As I walked on, my\nattention was attracted by the bleating of a flock of sheep, which I\nsaw at a distance ascending a steep path, leading to a neighbouring\nfold. I quickened my pace, that I might have some conversation with\nthe shepherd, who, with his dog, was bringing up the rear. He was an\nold man of a swarthy complexion, and strongly marked features; his\ngray hairs hung in locks over his shoulders, and his manners seemed\nto indicate the presence of a superior mind. He made a courteous\nbow; I saluted him, and remarked--\"You are taking your flock home\nto rest, which I hope sometimes reminds you of the approach of that\nhour when you must rest from all your labours.\"\n\n\"Yes, it does; and, blessed be God, there is a rest provided for his\npeople.\"\n\nThis pious expression sprang a mine of exquisite feeling in my\nbreast; and I instantaneously felt a profound veneration and respect\nfor the old man, whom I now looked upon as a son of God in the\ndisguise of lowly and lonely humanity.\n\n\"I presume you know something about Jesus Christ, who is the way to\nthat place of rest.\"\n\n\"Yes, he is now my Saviour, though for many years I lived without\nknowing anything about him. I often feel sorry when I think of the\nmany precious hours I have wasted by reading ballads and foolish\nbooks, which I ought to have spent in reading my Bible.\"\n\n\"Do you ever attend a place of worship?\"\n\n\"No, I never leave my flock.\"\n\n\"How, then, did you come to know anything about Jesus Christ?\"\n\nHe put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a tract, and said,\nas the big tear dropped upon his cheek, \"This is the blessed book\nthat made known to me a blessed Saviour; and I would not part with\nit for all the world.\"\n\nFeeling anxious to hold in my hand the instrument which had been\nemployed by the \"Eternal Spirit\" in turning this aged man from\ndarkness to light, I asked him to let me see the tract. It bore the\nfollowing title, which had become nearly obliterated by frequent\nuse:--\"The Good Old Way; or the Religion of our Forefathers, as\nexplained in the Articles, Liturgy, and Homilies of the Church of\nEngland.\" I said to him, \"How did you get this tract?\"\n\n\"A lady gave it me one day, about three years ago; I don't know her;\nbut I hope she will be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.\"\n\n\"How do you spend your leisure time now?\"\n\n\"In reading my Bible, which tells me so much about that dear\nSaviour, in whom, through grace, I have believed, and who is able to\nkeep that which I have committed to him against the great day.\"\n\n\"I suppose you are much more happy now than you were before you knew\nhim?\"\n\nThis question brought over his countenance one of the finest\nexpressions of delight I ever beheld; and, after a short pause, he\nsaid, \"More happy, Sir! I never was happy till I obtained mercy; but\nnow I am happy, and expect before long to join that blessed company\nwe read of in the Revelation, who serve God day and night in his\ntemple.\"\n\nHaving made a few unimportant inquiries about his family, the state\nof agriculture, and the population of the district, I wished him\na good night, and left him. As I passed along, I said to myself,\nI should like to watch the countenance, and listen to the remarks\nof this converted shepherd, while some philosophic sceptic, in\nflippant style, or in graver tone and sarcastic sneer, says to\nhim, \"Why, shepherd, you have been long living amidst visible and\nsplendid realities; but now, in your old age, you are living under\nthe spell of legendary delusions. The Deity whom you now adore\nis nothing but the idol of your own creation. The reported facts\nand doctrines of the Bible, which have had such an effect on your\nimagination, are either fabulous tales or superstitious dogmas; and,\nnotwithstanding your airy flights into another world, you, like your\nsheep, will cease to be, when death comes to release you from your\nlabours, for there is no other world.\"\n\nWith what indignant astonishment, blended with pity, would the old\nshepherd look on such a man; doubting, for a few moments, whether\nhe was not some infernal spirit in the human form. I can easily\nimagine he would reply: \"It is odd, Sir, that such a poor ignorant\nold man as I be, that has lived for more than sixty years without\nthinking about God at all, should all at once, and without intending\nto do it, create by the force of my fancy such a pure, benevolent,\nand glorious Being, as I now believe God to be; who stoops from his\nhigh and lofty throne to listen to my poor prayers, and to answer\nthem too. And it is mainly odd, Sir, methinks, that these tales of\nthe Bible, if they be fabulous, and these doctrines of the Bible,\nif they be nothing but superstitious dogmas, as you call them,\nshould all at once, and without my thinking of such a thing being\ndone, work such a great and blessed change in my hard and wicked\nheart, and should make me so happy as I now be. It is, methinks,\na main pity that they have not worked on your heart as they have\non mine, and then you would be about as unable and as unwilling to\ndoubt their truth as I be. You say, Sir, there is no other world;\nI should like to know how you happen to know this? have you been\nto the sun, and the moon, and all the stars, and every where else\nto see? If you have not, according to my plain way of thinking, I\nthink it is a main act of presumption for you to say so. You tell me\nthat I shall cease to be at death, just as these sheep will cease\nto be. I should like to know how you happen to know this. Has our\nMaker spoken to you out of heaven, and told you so: or is it mere\nguess-work with you? No, no, Sir; I am not going to take your random\nguess-work sayings as true gospel; I like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and\nJohn too well for that; and now, to let you know my mind, I tell\nyou plainly, you come too late to make a poor man disbelieve his\nBible, if you don't come before he has felt the enlightening and\nrenewing and refreshing power of its blessed truths on his soul; he\nhas then the Witness within, and that's a witness that can't lie. I\nwon't give up the truthful testimony of this living Witness for your\nrandom guess-work sayings, which you yourself can't know to be true.\nI don't want, Sir, to offend you; but I look upon you as a false\nprophet, who may deceive the wicked, but can't deceive a man who\nfears God and loves Jesus Christ as I do, and shall do for ever.\"\n\nPerfect stillness prevailed around; no sounds were heard but my own\nfootsteps, and the occasional notes of the nightingale, until I came\nto a brake, when I heard the following verses of a favourite hymn,\nthough the singer was concealed:--\n\n    \"The calm retreat, the silent shade\n       With prayer and praise agree;\n     And seem by thy sweet bounty made\n       For those who follow thee.\n\n    \"There, if thy Spirit touch the soul,\n       And grace her mean abode,\n     Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love,\n       She communes with her God!\n\n    \"There, like the nightingale, she pours\n       Her solitary lays;\n     Nor asks a witness of her song,\n       Nor thirsts for human praise.\n\n    \"Author and guardian of my life,\n       Sweet source of light divine,\n     And--all harmonious names in one--\n       My Saviour! thou art mine.\n\n    \"What thanks I owe thee, and what love!\n       A boundless, endless store,\n     Shall echo through the realms above\n       When time shall be no more.\"\n\nI lingered here some time after the music had died away, luxuriating\nin my own hallowed reflections; and then advancing a few steps, I\nperceived, seated in a hollow, a decent middle-aged woman, and,\napparently, her daughter, who were thus pouring forth their evening\nhymn of praise. I then returned to the inn, had my supper, and after\nengaging in prayer with the family, retired to rest. In the morning\nI rose early and revisited the vale, humming over, as I sauntered\nalong, the following suggestive and consolatory lines of a modern\npoet:--\n\n    \"God is here; how sweet the sound!\n       All I feel and all I see,\n     Nature teems, above, around,\n       With universal Deity.\n\n    \"Is there danger? Void of fear,\n       Though the death-wing'd arrow fly,\n     I can answer, God is here,\n       And I move beneath his eye.\n\n    \"When I pray, he hears my pray'r;\n       When I weep, he sees my grief:\n     Do I wander? He is here,\n       Ready to afford relief.\"\n\nI reached the end of the walk before aware of it; when I saw a\ncottage, towards which I bent my steps. It was small, yet tastefully\nadorned with jessamine, honey-suckles, and rose-trees, with a neat\nflower-garden in front, inclosed by a hawthorn hedge; and while\nadmiring its varied beauties, an elderly female made her appearance,\nwhose physiognomy and whose manners were very prepossessing. After\na little desultory conversation, as I stood resting my arm on the\ntop of her little wicket-gate, she invited me to come in and rest\nmyself. I accepted her invitation, and soon found that I was in\nthe society of one of the Lord's \"hidden ones.\" My hostess was a\nwidow, whose husband had been dead about seven years. She informed\nme that her father, a man of piety and of wealth, had given her\nan education becoming his station; that at the age of seventeen\nshe yielded herself to God, as one alive from the dead, and before\nshe reached her twentieth year, she was married to one of the\nmost amiable and one of the most attentive men that ever became a\nhusband. A kind Providence smiled upon them during the first twelve\nyears of their wedded life, when a series of disasters befell them,\nwhich turned their paradise of bliss into a valley of weeping. Her\nfather having made some large speculations in the wool-trade, lost\nthe whole of his property, and not having been inured to affliction\nin his earlier days, his vigorous constitution gave way, and he\ndied, exclaiming, \"Though I have lost all my worldly substance,\nyet the pearl of great price is still mine.\" The insolvency of her\nfather shook public confidence in the commercial respectability of\nher husband, who was soon obliged to call together his creditors;\nand though there was more than sufficient property to meet their\ndemands, yet, by making him a bankrupt, they did not receive quite\nhalf their amount. When his affairs were wound up, and he had\nobtained his certificate, his friends raised a subscription for him,\nand he recommenced business; but the hand of the Lord was against\nhim, and he could not succeed.\n\nAn interesting daughter, who, from the age of seven years, had been\nseeking the Lord, was so overwhelmed by the afflictions of her\nparents, that she fell into a rapid decline; and though there were\noccasionally some bright prospects of her recovery, yet at last the\nnight of death came and sealed up the vision of life. The father,\nwho was a man of a very delicate frame, gradually sank beneath his\naccumulated trials, and left his widow with a son, without any\nresources for their future maintenance.\n\nHer son was sent to a boarding-school, where he was educated at the\nexpense of his uncle; and as the place of her nativity had lost\nall its attractions, she chose to retire to the lonely cottage in\nwhich I found her, where He who multiplied the widow's oil has never\nsuffered her to want any good thing.\n\nAn occasional tear fell from her eye while she was relating this\ntale of woe, yet there was a dignified composure in her countenance,\nand that led me to remark--\"I presume, Madam, that though you have\nmet with such severe losses, you have not lost your confidence in\nGod, nor the peace of mind it yields.\"\n\n\"No, Sir; I have enjoyed in this cottage more of the Divine\npresence than I ever felt in the days of prosperity, and would not\nwillingly return to the world, and hazard the loss of my spiritual\nconsolations, could I obtain its highest prizes. I know that my\nafflictions have been sent by my heavenly Father, who is too wise\nto err, and too good to act unkindly. He has designs to accomplish,\nby his dispensations, which may appear to us mysterious, because\nto us they are unknown; but though clouds and darkness are round\nabout him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of\nhis throne. I now find the wells of salvation yield sweeter waters\nthan when resorted to in former times, and my prospect of future\nglory is brighter and more animating than in the days of my greatest\nprosperity.\"\n\nOn expressing my surprise that she could willingly reside where the\nmeans of grace could not be fully enjoyed, she informed me that\nshe was not deprived of these privileges. \"If you look in that\ndirection, you will see a spire rising among the trees on yonder\nhill. In that church the gospel is preached in its purity and in\nits power, and the Rector, who is an amiable man, usually preaches\non Sabbath morning, when I attend. In the afternoon I stay at home\nand meditate on what I have heard; and in the evening I go to hear\nan excellent minister of Christ, who preaches in a small Dissenting\nchapel at the other end of our hamlet.\"\n\n\"Then you are no bigot?\"\n\n\"No, I love all who love Christ; and to me it is immaterial where I\ngo, if I can obtain an interview with Him, whom unseen I love.\"\n\n\"As the gospel is preached in your village, I hope you have met with\nsome with whom you can enjoy Christian fellowship.\"\n\n\"Yes, the Lord has a few in this modern Sardis who have escaped the\ngeneral pollution, and are walking worthy their high vocation. We\nmeet once in the week for prayer and conversation, and are often\nfavoured with times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.\"\n\n\"Have you ever had any conversation with a pious shepherd, who feeds\nhis flock in your beautiful vale?\"\n\n\"O yes, he is often our chaplain. The word of Christ dwells in him\nrichly. He has an excellent gift in prayer, and is an Israelite\nindeed; a beautiful specimen of the new-creating power of the\nAlmighty.\"\n\n\"But do you never wish to reside in a town, where you could enjoy an\nextensive intercourse with the religious world?\"\n\n\"O no; I have lived long enough to know that a few select friends,\nwhose minds are uncontaminated by the censorious spirit of the\nage, are a richer treasure than a promiscuous throng, enslaved and\ngoverned by sectarian prejudices.\"\n\nThe room in which we were conversing was neatly furnished; a few\npictures decorated one of the side walls, and a small library was\nplaced in the centre of the opposite. I found among the books a copy\nof Robinson's _Village Sermons_, and on taking it from the shelf, I\nobserved, \"Robinson was an extraordinary man, but the eventide of\nhis life was comparative darkness.\"\n\n\"Yes, it was; but the productions of his pen have often yielded\nme pure mental enjoyment; and, if you will permit me, I will show\nyou a passage in one of his sermons, which I never read without\nbearing a personal testimony to its accuracy:--'Is it a benefit to\nunderstand the spirit and see the beauty of the Holy Scriptures?\nAfflictions teach Christians the worth of their Bibles, and so wrap\nup their hearts in the oracles of God. The Bible is but an insipid\nbook to us before afflictions bring us to feel the want of it, and\nthen how many comfortable passages do we find which lay neglected\nand unknown before! I recollect an instance in a history of some\nwho fled from persecution in this country to that then wild desert,\nAmerica. Among many other hardships, they were sometimes in such\nstraits for bread, that the very crusts of their former tables in\nEngland would have been a dainty to them. Necessity drove the women\nand children to the sea-side to look for a ship expected to bring\nthem provisions; but no ship for many weeks appeared; however, they\nsaw in the sands vast quantities of shell-fish, since called clams,\na sort of mussels. Hunger impelled them to taste, and at length they\nfed almost wholly on them, and to their own astonishment were as\ncheerful, fat, and lusty as they had been in England with their fill\nof the best provisions. A worthy man one day, after they had all\ndined on clams without bread, returned God thanks for causing them\nto _suck of the abundance of the seas, and of treasures hid in the\nsand_--a passage in the 33d chapter of Deuteronomy, a part of the\nblessing with which Moses blessed the tribe of Zebulun before his\ndeath; a passage till then unobserved by the company, but which ever\nafter endeared the writings of Moses to them.\"\n\nJust as she finished reading, a farmer-looking man came to the door\nwith a letter, which Mrs. Lewellin took and opened with eagerness.\nShe wept as she read, and involuntarily exclaimed--\"O George! my\nson, my son!\" Unwilling to withhold consolation from one who had\npassed through such fiery trials, I asked her if she had received\nany intelligence of a very painful nature.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, while endeavouring to suppress the rising grief of\nher heart, \"I have a letter from my dear boy, who has resided in\nLondon for the last two years. He is very ill. O Sir! if----.\" A\nlong silence ensued, which was interrupted only by the expressions\nof strong maternal grief. \"If he had felt the power of divine grace\nchanging his heart----.\" She wept again. \"But I fear he has been\ndrawn away from religion by evil companions. Oh! if he were to die,\nwhere could I ever find rest? This is a trial which pierces my\nheart.\"\n\n\"I am not surprised to witness such excessive grief; but may not\nthis affliction be sent to elicit the meaning of some obscure\npassage of the Sacred Volume? Unto the upright there ariseth light\nin the darkness; that is, deliverance comes when most needed, but as\noften when least expected. The set time for your son's conversion\nmay be nigh at hand; and He who worketh all things after the counsel\nof His own will may now be making the necessary preparations for\nthis great event; so that your mourning may very soon be turned into\nrejoicing.\"\n\n\"If the Lord should be pleased to renew the soul of my dear boy, I\nshall, like the father, when he saw his prodigal son retracing his\nsteps to his long-deserted home, feel an ecstasy of joy. The crisis\nin his moral history may be coming. I will betake myself to special\nprayer, and in faith and hope wait the issue. Nothing is impossible\nwith God.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIDOW'S SON.\n\n\nGeorge Lewellin, the son of the lonely widow, at the decease of his\nfather was twelve years of age. He finished his education under the\ndirection of his uncle; and, having attained his seventeenth year,\nhe was placed in a merchant's counting-house in London. In person\nhe was tall and slender, prepossessing in appearance and manners,\nunreserved in disposition, of an amiable temper, and disposed, from\nthe ingenuous sincerity of his heart, to regard every one as his\nfriend who courted his society. Soon after his entrance on his new\ncourse of life, he received an affectionate letter from his mother,\ncautioning him against the many temptations of the metropolis:--\n\n\"As, my dear George, you are removed from under the immediate\ninspection of your friends, and will be exposed to a variety of\ntemptations, permit me to urge upon you the importance of reading\nthe Scriptures daily, of regularly attending some place of worship\non the Sabbath-day, and of avoiding the company of the gay and\ndissipated. If companions entice you to the play-house, to card\nparties, or to places of public amusement, do not allow them to\nprevail upon you; for, if you once give way to their entreaties,\nyou will soon be overcome. I have had many trials. I have lost my\nproperty; I have buried your lovely sister; I have wept over the\ntomb of your pious father; and to see you turning your back on\nreligion, would bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. But\nI hope better things of you, though I thus write. Let me hear from\nyou soon, and often; and give me a faithful account of how you spend\nyour time; and believe me to be yours, most affectionately,\" &c.\n\nHis reply will give the reader some insight into the state of his\nmind and situation:--\n\n\"MY DEAR MOTHER,--I thank you for your kind letter. Yes; you have\nhad many trials, but I hope you have, at least, one living comfort\nleft. To promote your happiness will be, I trust, the constant\neffort of my life; and as I know something of the value of prayer,\nI hope you will always have me in remembrance when at a throne of\ngrace. I have a good room at a Mr. Jordan's, in the City Road. Mr.\nJordan is a plain, pious man, and his wife appears very amiable.\nThey have no children, and they treat me as their son. I very much\nlike the situation which my uncle has procured for me. There are,\nin the office, three clerks besides myself, but they are all my\nseniors. The oldest is married, and has a family. The next is the\nson of a Friend, but he has thrown off the plain garb, and often\nridicules the simple mode of speech for which that scrupulous people\nare distinguished. The other is the only son of a country esquire of\nlarge fortune. They treat me with the greatest kindness; and so does\nthe gentleman in whose service I have the honour of being employed.\nMy time is fully occupied; and though business is new to me, yet I\nbegin to find the difficulties attending it giving way. I will try\nto please, and I hope shall be successful. As I know you feel more\nanxious about my spiritual than my temporal prosperity, I shall\ngive you an account of the manner in which I spend my Sabbaths. I\nregularly attend church twice a-day, and have already heard some of\nthe most celebrated preachers in London, but have not yet determined\nto what congregation I shall attach myself. Variety is charming,\nbut I rather think that a stated ministry is the most profitable. I\noften think of you and your lovely retreat, and wish I could pop in\nupon you to receive the maternal blessing.\"\n\nA material change soon took place in the principles and habits of\nyoung Lewellin, and it may be proper to give a brief account of\nthose to whose influence it may be ascribed. The senior clerk in the\noffice was an amiable man, but his mind was deeply tinctured by the\ndeistical sentiments of the age. He would occasionally throw out\nsome insinuations against _professors_; but as he perceived it gave\nLewellin pain, he was rather sparing in his remarks. Mr. Gordon, the\nsemi-Quaker, was less guarded; and, being a young man of a ready\nwit and polished manners, he became a dangerous companion. Having\nbeen educated under a severe discipline, which taught him to regard\nthe cut of the coat and the construction of a sentence as important\nif not essential branches of religion, he had imbibed deep-rooted\nprejudices against it; and, though still in regular attendance at\nmeeting _on first-day morning_, yet he usually spent the other parts\nof the Sabbath at some place of public resort. His respectability\nintroduced him into the best society, and his principles fitted\nhim for the worst. He narrowly watched Lewellin; and resolved to\nemancipate him, if possible, from under the control of his religious\nopinions and habits; and he proceeded with great caution in this\nwork of moral destruction, being aware that, if his principles were\nstormed before they were undermined, he should excite a powerful\nresistance. Having laid his plan of seduction, he soon began to\ncarry it into execution. On leaving the office one evening, he\npolitely asked Lewellin to spend an hour with him. Lewellin frankly\naccepted his invitation, and they had a long conversation together,\nduring which Gordon displayed so much good-nature, such a fund of\nanecdote, and such a rich vein of wit, that he gained an entire\nascendency over his friend, who expressed a desire that the intimacy\nnow formed might be perpetuated. The clock struck eleven, when\nLewellin suddenly started from his chair, and took his hat and\ncane; but was detained two hours longer by the powerful attractions\nof his companion. At length he bade him good-night. As he passed\ndown Fleet Street, his conscience began to smite him. \"What would\nmy dear mother _feel_ if she knew where I am at this hour!\" But,\nhaving resolved that he would never again be guilty of such an act\nof imprudence, his faithful monitor was hushed to silence:--\"He is\na charming man!--What an extensive knowledge of the world!--What\na fund of anecdote; and how well he narrates and describes! A new\nscene is opening before me.\" Thus he talked to himself, till he\nreached his lodgings, where he found the family very much alarmed.\n\n\"Dear Sir,\" said Mrs. Jordan, as soon as the passage door was\nopened, \"we are very glad to see you. We were fearful that you had\nlost yourself, or that some greater evil had befallen you.\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" replied Lewellin, \"that I have kept you up so late;\nbut Mr. Gordon pressed me to spend the evening with him, and the\ntime slipped by before I was aware of it.\"\n\n\"I am glad to see you home,\" said Mr. Jordan; \"and, as we have been\nexpecting you every minute for the last three hours, we have not\nyet had family prayer.\" The good man knelt down, and prayed most\naffectionately for his young friend, who stood exposed to so many\ntemptations.\n\nNext day Lewellin went to the office as usual, but nothing\nparticular occurred till the evening, when Gordon asked him to\naccept the loan of a book, which he had no doubt would amuse him. He\ntook it, and hastened home to peruse it. Immediately after tea he\nretired to his own room. He opened the volume, read the title-page,\nthrew the book on the table, and exclaimed, \"No; I'll not read it.\nI gave my word of honour to my mother that I would never read a\nnovel; and I will not sacrifice my honour to please any friend.\" He\npaced the room backwards and forwards for some time, reflecting\non the past evening, till the thoughts of his heart troubled him,\nwhen he seated himself in the arm-chair which was standing near\nthe table. As the book was elegantly bound, he took it up, and\nexamined the workmanship; read the whole of the title-page, and\nthen the preface; and, finding nothing very objectionable, he read\non, till startled by a knock at the door. \"Who is there?\" \"Will you\ncome down to supper, Sir?\" He took out his watch, and found that\nhe had been reading two hours, and as it was the first novel he\never read, it had so deeply fixed his attention, that he had nearly\nfinished it before he felt conscious of what he was doing. \"Yes,\nyes, I'll come presently; but don't wait.\" \"Let me see, there are\nthirty more pages; I'll finish it.\" He read on, but the charm was\nbroken by a recollection of his vow; and he again threw the book\nfrom him, exclaiming, \"Fascinating wretch, thou hast beguiled me\nof my honour!\" He hastened out of the room, that he might avoid\nthe reflections of his own mind; and when he entered the parlour,\nhe found an interesting young man, of whom he had often heard Mr.\nJordan speak. This young man was intelligent and pious, highly\naccomplished in his manners, and just on the eve of being married.\nAfter supper he engaged in family prayer; and when offering up his\ndevout thanksgivings to the God of all grace, for preserving him\nfrom the paths of the destroyer, and guiding his feet in the way of\npeace, he made a natural transition to the situation of Lewellin,\nand most fervently prayed that he might be enabled to escape the\npollution of the world, and consecrate himself to the service of the\nGod of his fathers. Lewellin endeavoured to conceal his emotions,\nbut the recollection of his having that night sacrificed his honour,\nthrew such a melancholy air over his countenance, that Mrs. Jordan,\nwho felt deeply interested in his welfare, abruptly asked him if he\nwas unwell. The question perplexed him; but assuming his ordinary\ncheerfulness, he replied, \"No, Madam.\" Having sat a little longer,\nhe took leave of the company, and retired to rest. On casting his\neye on the book, as he stood musing, he said, \"Well, I don't know\nthat I have received any moral injury from reading it; and perhaps\nmy mother did wrong to press me to pledge my word that I would not\nread a novel.\"\n\nNext Sabbath Mr. Gordon called on him in the afternoon, and asked\nhim to accompany him to the Lock, to hear a celebrated preacher. As\nthey were passing through St. James's Park, they met Mr. Phillips\n(the other clerk in the office), with three ladies. The meeting\nappeared accidental; and as Mr. Phillips pressed his friends to do\nhim and the ladies the honour of their company, politeness induced a\ncompliance, and the whole party took an excursion on the river. They\ndid not return till late; and it was past twelve before Lewellin\nreached his lodgings. On entering the parlour he made an apology\nfor not being home earlier, and to avoid being embarrassed by any\nquestions, took his candle, and retired to his own room. He sat\nhimself down; but the sight of the Bible, which lay on the table,\nagonized his feelings, and he began to reproach himself in the\nbitterest terms. \"Yes, a new scene is opening before me; but what a\nscene! No; I will break the charm before I am completely enslaved!\nMy mother does not know it.----But the eye of God----I cannot\nconceal myself from him. Woe is me! I am lost! I am undone! No; I\nwill repent. I will ask for mercy.\" He threw himself on his bed, and\nafter hours of mental torture and bitter lamentation he fell asleep;\nbut he was scared by the visions of the night, and when the light\nof the morning dawned, it brought no tidings of peace. At length he\narose, and went to the office, where he met his companions in guilt,\nbut his mind was too much depressed to allow him to be cheerful; and\nthe references which were made to the excursion of the preceding\nevening aggravated his misery. When the business of the day was\nclosed, he walked away in silent sadness; but he had not gone far\nbefore Gordon overtook him, and invited him to take some refreshment\nin a coffee-house. He strongly objected--and then consented.\n\n\"I perceive,\" said Gordon, \"that you are unhappy, and I guess the\ncause. You suffer your noble mind to be tortured by the tales of the\nnursery. Treat them with contempt.\"\n\n\"No, I am not tortured by the tales of the nursery, but by the\nreflections of a guilty conscience.\"\n\n\"Conscience,\" said Gordon, smiling; \"I had such a thing once, but as\nit stood in the way of my love of pleasure, I got rid of it, and now\nI am happy, because I am free. And I assure you that you will never\nbe fitted to enjoy life till you form juster notions of the Deity\nthan religion inspires; and till you open your heart to the sublime\ngratifications which the society and amusements of this far-famed\ncity afford. Come, give way to the impulse of your generous nature,\nand accompany me this evening.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Where you shall have a mental feast.\"\n\nLewellin, expecting that Gordon was going to a Philosophical\nSociety, of which he was a member, gave his consent; nor was he\nundeceived, till he found himself seated in a box at Drury Lane\nTheatre. His conscience smote him; but as he had been decoyed there,\nthe faithful reprover was soon silenced; the curtain was drawn, and\nthe stage exhibited a scene which was not only new but captivating.\nWhen the play was over, Gordon said, \"I have watched your\ncountenance during the whole of the tragedy, and I perceive that you\nhave an instinctive taste for the drama. Yes, Lewellin, this is the\nschool to exalt the genius and amend the heart. Here our manners\nare polished, our taste is refined, and those moral sentiments are\ninculcated which make the man _the gentleman_.\"\n\nOn leaving the theatre they adjourned to an hotel, where they\nordered supper, and as they sat conversing together till a very late\nhour, they decided on sleeping there. The Rubicon was now passed,\nand Lewellin, having tasted of the forbidden fruit, resolved to\nrid himself of his Puritanical notions (as he began to term his\nreligious sentiments), that he might enjoy life. The first step he\ntook was to write a letter to his kind friend, Mr. Jordan, to say\nthat circumstances rendered it inconvenient for him to reside so far\nfrom the office, and therefore he was under the painful necessity\nof taking another set of rooms; he added, \"I will call and settle\nwith you; and I will thank you to send my dressing-case, &c., by\nthe bearer.\" He then told his friend Gordon what he had done, who\ncongratulated him on his _courage_, and assured him that he was\nwelcome to accommodation in his apartments until he could suit\nhimself better.\n\nThe seducer having now got his victim in his own power, hurried\nhim through the various stages of vice with almost breathless\nimpetuosity. The theatre, the billiard-room, the tavern, and other\nplaces, were alternately visited; and he who a few months before was\nhorror-struck at the sight of a novel, could now occupy the seat\nof a scorner. But he was not suffered to remain there undisturbed.\nConscience would sometimes inflict the most poignant wounds. The\nthought of home, of his pious father and sister, of the day of\njudgment, and of his loving mother, drove him at times almost\nfrantic; when, after pronouncing a secret curse on his companion,\nhe would plunge himself deeper in iniquity, that he might gain a\nmomentary relief. To follow him through the course of impiety which\nhe ran for the space of two years, during which time he involved\nhimself in debt and in hopeless misery, would afford the reader no\ngratification. Disease, which had been for some time destroying\nhis health, and impairing the vigour of his constitution, now\nincapacitated him for business, and he was obliged to keep to his\napartments, which were near those of Mr. Gordon. For several days\nafter his confinement he received no attention from his friend, and\nthat left his mind more at liberty to take the black review.\n\nHe reproached himself--he reproached the destroyer of his peace--he\nwept, but he could not pray. He wrote a letter to his pious mother,\nbut he burned it--he wrote another, and burned it. He wrote to his\nfriend, Mr. Jordan, whom he had not seen since he left his house,\nand, just as he was directing it, the servant announced Mr. Gordon.\n\n\"Well, George, how are you?\"\n\n\"Ill, very ill, and you are the cause of it!\"\n\n\"I the cause of it!\"\n\n\"Yes, you enticed me from the paths of virtue into the paths of\nvice, and though I reproach myself for my folly in giving way to\nyour entreaties, yet, Sir, you are the seducer.\"\n\n\"Ah! Lewellin, you are got back to the tales of the nursery. Come,\ncome, pluck up your spirits. You will soon get better. What does the\ndoctor say? I was at Drury last night, and never had a finer treat.\"\n\n\"The doctor gives me but little hope, and your present conversation\ngives me less pleasure. If I die, I must appear before my Judge, and\nam I (wringing his hands) prepared? No!\"\n\n\"Well, then, I will be off, but don't play the fool; die like a man.\nPhillips says he'll call to see you to-morrow, but I suppose a visit\nfrom some of the godly will be more acceptable.\"\n\n\"I want a visit from some one who can minister to a mind diseased.\"\n\n\"Well, good-bye. But die like a man, if you are doomed to death.\"\n\nHe was now left alone, irresolute--alarmed. He rings. \"Put that\nletter in the post immediately.\" Is more composed. Mr. Jordan called\non him next morning, and when he saw him could not refrain from\nweeping. Lewellin cautiously concealed from him the cause of his\nillness, but informed him that the doctor gave but little hope of\nhis life.\n\n\"Does your dear mother know how you are?\"\n\n\"No, I do not like to alarm her; but if I do not get better in a few\ndays, I think I shall endeavour to go down and see her, and if I\nmust die, I hope to die in her arms.\"\n\n\"I have called several times at your office since you left my house,\nbut you were either engaged, or not within, and we have often\nwondered why you never came to see us. We have always had you in\nremembrance at a throne of grace.\"\n\n\"Ah! had I never left your house, I should not have been reduced to\nthat state of wretchedness and woe in which you now see me. I was\nseduced by a worthless companion, and now--(he made a long pause)--I\nhave cut short my life; I have ruined my soul; I shall break my\nmother's heart. O eternity! how I dread thee.\"\n\nThe tender feelings of Mr. Jordan were so strongly excited by the\nlooks and the expressions of Lewellin, that he could make no reply\nfor several minutes. At length he said, \"But the chief of sinners\nmay obtain mercy.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that the chief of sinners may obtain mercy, if they\nrepent and believe; but I cannot do either. I have fitted myself for\ndestruction, and now I must prepare to go where the worm dieth not,\nand where the fire will never be quenched.\"\n\n\"Do not despair of mercy.\"\n\n\"Yes, I must. Despair gives me more relief than hope.\"\n\n\"Shall I pray with you?\"\n\n\"It is too late.\"\n\n\"Consent.\"\n\n\"Then pray for my dear mother; pray that her mind may be prepared\nfor the distressing news which will soon reach her ears. I have\ndeceived her.\"\n\nMr. Jordan knelt down and prayed; but his importunity merely served\nto invest the pang of despair with an additional degree of terror.\n\n\"All is useless--\n\n    'The help of men and angels join'd\n    Can never reach my case.'\"\n\n\"That's true, my dear young friend, but\"----\n\n\"Pardon me for interrupting you, but I dare not ask for mercy.\nJustice demands a victim, and I must die.\"\n\n\"But mercy pleads.\"\n\n\"Yes, but she will never plead for me.\"\n\n\"Do try to pray.\"\n\n\"No, I am not disposed to offer a fresh insult to God. He has\nrejected me. I know my doom. It is irrevocably fixed. I deserve all\nI suffer, and all I have to suffer.\"\n\nMr. Jordan now left him, but called again the next evening, when he\nfound him rather better and more composed, and was gratified to hear\nthat he had written a letter to his mother, informing her of his\nindisposition, and that she might expect to see him in the space of\na few days, as he had been recommended to try the effect of a change\nof air.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIDOW'S SON RECLAIMED.\n\n\nThe influence of Divine truth on the youthful mind is often very\nsalutary; it keeps the conscience tender, even when it does not keep\nit pure; it inspires an awe of God, and a secret dread of evil,\neven when it does not root out of the heart a predilection for it;\nand secures an external consistency of moral deportment, even while\nthe mind remains unchanged. But such is the extreme degeneracy of\nour nature, that its sinful appetites and propensities will often\nburst through the most powerful restraints, and the fascinating\ntemptations of an evening, or even a single hour, will often render\napparently useless all the efforts of a long and painstaking course\nof domestic instruction and discipline. Hence the youth who has\nbeen trained up in the \"fear of the Lord,\" on finding himself\nremoved from under the watchful eye of parental solicitude, may,\nafter a momentary hesitation, yield to the ensnaring seductions\nof the world, and launch forth into scenes of impurity and vice,\nbraving the consequences; and though occasionally disturbed by\nsome compunctious visitations, yet he passes on, contemning his\nearly religious impressions, and treating with profane levity those\nmomentous truths which once overawed and animated his soul. But can\nhe proceed without meeting with some formidable resistances? Can\nhe forget that the piercing eye of God follows him through all the\nwindings and doublings of his course? Can he shake off the dread\nof futurity, and bid his dark forebodings cease? No; conscience\nstands in his way, and disputes his passage, by turning against him\nthe sword of truth, which often inflicts a wound too deep even for\nintemperance to heal or soothe. He sighs for peace, but peace comes\nnot; for there is no peace to the wicked.\n\nTo indulge the hope of reclaiming such a youth by the mere force\nof terror or persuasion, would be a visionary prospect; yet, have\nwe never seen the prodigal return? Have we never heard the parent\nexclaim, \"For this my son was dead, but is alive again; he was lost,\nbut is found?\"\n\nGeorge Lewellin left London a few days after he had communicated\nthe state of his health to his mother, and reached her home the\nfollowing morning; when she saw him, as he was opening the wicket\ngate in front of the house, she sprang up, ran, fell on his neck,\nand kissed him. The interview was affecting; and it was some moments\nbefore either of them could speak. On raising her eyes to survey\nthe once lovely form of her only son, now emaciated by disease, she\ncould not refrain from exclaiming, as she pressed him still closer\nto her agonized bosom, \"O, George, what's the matter? How long have\nyou been ill? Why did you conceal your illness from me?\"\n\n\"Be composed, mother; I am better, and have no doubt but relaxation\nfrom business, and the fresh air of the country, will be the means\nof bringing me about again. The porter is waiting with my trunk; I\nwill thank you to satisfy him for his trouble, as I have no change.\"\n\nDuring the first week after his arrival he began to mend; and all\nindulged a hope of his speedy recovery; but disease had taken too\ndeep root in his constitution to be suddenly eradicated; and within\na fortnight the fever returned with increasing violence, setting at\ndefiance the skill of the physician, who confessed that his life was\nin the most imminent danger. He now took to his bed, and said to a\nyoung friend who called to see him: \"I shall never leave this room\ntill I am carried out by the ministers of death.\" On the following\nSabbath, his mother ventured to ask him how he felt in prospect of\ndeath. This question agitated him. He became restless, a sullen\ngloom was thrown over his countenance, and he remained silent. This\nsilence inflicted a deeper wound in her tender bosom than the most\npiercing cries of mental anguish; and though she endeavoured to\nconceal her grief, yet she was unable to do so. \"O, George, do tell\nme. When I lost your father, I had the consolation of knowing that\nhe was gone to heaven; and your dear departed sister said, just\nbefore she left me, 'Weep not for me, for I shall soon see the King\nin his beauty;' and will _you die_ without allowing me to indulge\nthe hope of meeting you in heaven?\"\n\n[Illustration:\n\nDRAWN BY G. H. THOMAS.      ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS.\n\nRETURN OF THE WIDOW'S SON.\n\nVol. i. page 23.]\n\n\"My dear mother, I have deceived you once, but deception is now at\nan end; I have 'trampled under foot the blood of the covenant,' and\nthat blood is now crying for vengeance against me. I know my doom;\nand, however painful it may be to your feelings to see your own\nchild lingering out the few remaining days of his life, without one\ncheering hope, yet I _do_ request that you will not embitter my last\nhours by making any allusions to heaven.\"\n\n\"O, George, my child!\"\n\n\"O, my mother, I am undone!\"\n\nAs his mind was in such a perturbed state, Mrs. Lewellin thought it\nprudent to turn the current of conversation; and, after listening\nto a detailed account of his course of life when in London, she\nretired to try the efficacy of prayer. In the evening a pious young\nfriend called to see him, to whom he said, \"I will thank you to\nremove that Bible out of my sight, for its very presence agonizes\nme. Such a book ought not to lie near such a wretch as I am. It is\nlike compelling the criminal to ride on his own coffin to the place\nof execution.\"\n\n\"But, my dear Sir, that holy book contains a revelation of mercy and\ngrace to sinners, and offers salvation to the chief.\"\n\n\"I know all that, and therefore I wish it removed; for I have made\nsport with the revelation of mercy.\"\n\n\"But the Lord waits to be gracious.\"\n\n\"No; he is now laughing at my calamity; and soon the curtain of life\nwill drop, and then his injured justice will be glorified in my\ncondemnation. Give me a draught of water.\"\n\nHe drank the whole in haste; and, on giving back the cup, said,\n\"It would afford me some relief if I could hope to find a spring\nof water in hell. But, no; not one drop there to cool my parched\ntongue!\"\n\n\"O, George, do not put from you the words of peace.\"\n\n\"The words of peace, to my soul, are like the dragon's sting or the\nviper's bite; and the voice of mercy sounds more awful in my ears\nthan the footsteps of vengeance. I know my doom; and if you wish me\nto have a moment's calm while the respite lasts, talk of earth, of\nits joys, or of its sorrows; but bring me not near the spot where\nMercy died for man.\"\n\nThe fever, which had remained stationary for several days, now\nraged with uncontrolled violence, without impairing the vigour or\nacuteness of his intellect, and all expected that a few hours would\nterminate his mortal career. His mother hung over him, breathing\nthe purest and most ardent affection; but she was not permitted\nto instil the consolations of religion, and that at length so\noverpowered her feelings that she was obliged to retire, leaving her\nonly son the victim of despair. His eye followed her as she left\nthe room; and when the door closed, he burst into a flood of tears,\nexclaiming, \"The doom that awaits me would be less terrible, if I\ncould have concealed it from my mother. I have destroyed myself,\nand plunged the fatal dagger into her breast. O, thou holy, thou\nrighteous God, thou art clear when thou judgest, and just when thou\ncondemnest! Have pity on my dear mother, and support her soul under\nthis awful visitation of thy vengeance!\"\n\nHe now became more composed; but on hearing the clock strike eleven,\nhe started up in bed, asked for a large draught of cold water, and\nexpressed an ardent wish to see his mother once more, as he was\napprehensive that life was just on the eve of departing. A female\nattendant went to call her, but she was asleep; and on returning,\nshe asked if she should awake her. After a long pause, he said,\n\"No; let her sleep on, and take her rest, and I will die alone, and\nspare her the agony of hearing the last tremendous groan, which is\nto announce my entrance into hell.\" He then requested that another\npillow might be placed under his head; and turning himself on his\nleft side, he laid himself down to expire. In about a quarter of an\nhour the nurse, who was standing by his side, gently whispered, \"I\nthink he is gone;\" but on feeling his pulse, she soon ascertained\nthat he was in a profound sleep. He slept for several hours, during\nwhich time the fever very much abated, and when he awoke he said,\nwith a firm tone, \"I now think I shall recover.\"\n\n\"Yes, my child,\" replied Mrs. Lewellin, \"the Lord has heard my\nprayers, and answered them, by sparing your life; and I have no\ndoubt but he will answer them further by making this affliction the\nmeans of bringing you to repentance, and the enjoyment of fellowship\nwith him.\"\n\nThis appropriate remark made a deep impression; he looked at his\nmother, but said nothing. His recovery was as rapid as his relapse\nhad been dangerous; and though his strength was greatly impaired,\nyet he was able to leave his room in the early part of the ensuing\nweek. Being now rescued from the brink of death, and animated with\nthe hope of returning health, as he sat alone musing over the awful\nscene through which he had so recently passed, he laid his hand on\na hymn-book, which was placed on the table, and read the following\nhymn with intense interest:--\n\n    \"When with my mind devoutly press'd,\n     Dear Saviour, my revolving breast\n       Would past offences trace;\n     Trembling I make the black review,\n     Yet pleased behold, admiring too,\n       The pow'r of changing grace.\n\n    \"This tongue with blasphemies defil'd,\n     These feet in erring paths beguil'd,\n       In heavenly league agree.\n     Who could believe such lips could praise,\n     Or think my dark and winding ways\n       Should ever lead to thee?\n\n    \"These eyes, that once abused their sight,\n     Now lift to thee their wat'ry light,\n       And weep a silent flood;\n     These hands ascend in ceaseless pray'r;\n     O wash away the stains they wear,\n       In pure redeeming blood.\n\n    \"These ears that, pleased, could entertain\n     The midnight oath, the lustful strain,\n       When round the festal board;\n     Now, deaf to all th' enchanting noise,\n     Avoid the throng, detest the joys,\n       And press to hear thy word.\n\n    \"Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part;\n     O would'st thou more transform my heart,\n       This drossy thing refine;\n     That grace might nature's strength control,\n     And a new creature, body, soul,\n       Be, Lord, for ever thine.\"\n\nWhile reading these verses, the determination he had formed to live\nand die without hope, was shaken; but after a momentary pause, he\ninvoluntarily exclaimed, in an under tone of utterance, \"It would\nbe an act of presumption for me to indulge a hope of ever feeling\nthe power of 'changing grace.' No, it cannot be; my heart is too\nhard. I am too impure, too depraved, too guilty.\" This novel train\nof thought was broken off by the entrance of his mother into the\nparlour, who was surprised and delighted by seeing him with the\nhymn-book, which he still held in his hand. Without appearing to\nnotice it, after a casual reference to the good prospect of his\nspeedy restoration to health, she said, \"I hope, my dear George,\nas you are now able to visit your friends, that you will accompany\nme in the evening to chapel, where you will hear a most excellent\nminister.\"\n\n\"I will go to oblige you, but I can anticipate no other pleasure.\"\n\n\"But you may derive some profit, for there the Lord condescends to\nmake the truth effectual to the salvation of them that believe.'\n\n\"But I cannot believe, no, I cannot; I would, but I cannot!\"\n\n\"But faith, my dear child, comes by hearing; and who can tell but\nthis night you may feel the power of changing grace.\"\n\nAfter tea, Mrs. Lewellin and her son walked to the chapel; and\nthough there were no splendid decorations to allure the devotee of\nsuperstition, nor any sculptured forms to attract the attention of\nthe sentimental worshipper, yet it was invested with unrivalled\ncharms in her estimation, as the place where\n\n    \"----The Father sits supreme,\n       As King Eternal, to receive\n     Petitions that his servants bring,\n       The homage which his subjects give.\"\n\nThe reading, the singing, and the prayer accorded with the general\ntone of feeling which a select congregation usually enjoy; and\nthough young Lewellin conducted himself with the greatest degree\nof decorum, yet it was not till after the text was announced that\nhe appeared interested in the service. The preacher was a young\nman, of a correct taste, strong intellectual powers, and bold and\nanimated address; but the subject which he had chosen for discussion\nwas more adapted to establish the Christian in his faith, than\nreclaim the sinner from the error of his ways. The text was taken\nfrom 1st Corinthians, vi. 17: _He that is joined unto the Lord is\none spirit_. There were no flights of lofty imagination in the\ncomposition of the discourse; no powerful appeals to the conscience;\nno master-strokes of argument, levelled against either the root\nor branches of infidelity; no terrific enunciations of the Divine\ndispleasure; but a calm and spiritual explanation and defence\nof the doctrine of our union with Jesus Christ. The service was\nconcluded without having produced any visible effects on Lewellin,\nwho walked away with his mother, and the only remark he made was,\n\"I never heard such a sermon before.\" She knew not how to interpret\nthe meaning of this ambiguous expression, and made no reply, lest,\nby coming in contact with his deistical opinions, she should be\nincapable of persuading him to accompany her at a future time.\nOn entering the parlour, he took a candle and retired to his own\nroom, which gave his mother a private opportunity of imploring the\nblessing of Heaven on the service of the evening. After waiting a\nconsiderable time, she began to feel uneasy, and went to the bottom\nof the stairs to listen; but on hearing his footsteps as he paced\nhis chamber, she resumed her seat. An hour had now elapsed since\nshe had seen him; the ambulating motion was no longer heard, her\nfears were strongly excited, and being unable to suppress them, she\nstole up softly to his door, and listening a while with breathless\nanxiety, she heard, or thought she heard, an indistinct sound; she\nthen looked through the keyhole of the door, and lo! he was on his\nknees in prayer. Had she seen visions of God, she might have been\nmore awed, but she could not have been more delighted. She wept as\nshe descended the stairs, but they were such tears as sorrow never\nsheds. Her heart was full, and she gave vent to her enraptured\nfeeling at the footstool of His throne who had caused grace to\nabound where sin had been reigning nigh unto death.\n\nAt supper her son appeared very sedate, absorbed in deep thought;\nyet there was a serenity in his countenance, and an ease in his\nmanner, which bespoke the composure of his mind. \"I think,\" said\nhis mother, \"that the discourse we heard this evening placed the\nhappiness and security of the Christian on such a firm basis, that\nwe might have concluded the service by singing the beautiful lines\nof Toplady:--\n\n    'Yes, I to the end shall endure,\n      As sure as the earnest is given,\n    More happy, but not more secure,\n      The glorified spirits in heaven.'\"\n\n\"You might have sung these words, because you are a Christian, but\nhow could I have responded to them?\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear George, you liked the sermon.\"\n\n\"I never heard such a sermon; at least I never heard a sermon which\nproduced such an effect on my mind. I could have listened till\nmidnight. I felt what I never felt before.\"\n\nYes! that night he felt the power of \"changing grace,\" and the\nchange produced in his opinions, taste, and habits, soon became\nconspicuous; and while it excited the ridicule of some, the\ngratitude of others, and the astonishment of all, it was as a\nwitness raised from the dead to give a fresh testimony to the\ndivine origin of the truth which had been the means of effecting\nit. He who had been a bold blasphemer, now became a man of prayer;\nthe intoxicating cup was exchanged for the wine of the kingdom;\nthe Sabbath was hallowed as a day of rest; and the amusements\nand dissipations of the world were forsaken for the more refined\nenjoyments of devotion.\n\nAs soon as his health was re-established, he began to prepare for\nhis return to his situation in London; and though he recoiled\nfrom the prospect of being compelled to associate with his former\ncompanions, yet he indulged the hope of being able to reclaim them\nfrom the destructive paths of sin. He wrote to his friend, Mr.\nJordan, with whom he lodged when he first went to London, to inform\nhim of the change which had taken place, and to request permission\nto become once more an inmate in his pious family. To this letter he\nreceived a very encouraging reply; and the following week was fixed\non for his departure.\n\nBut he could not consent to leave the place where he had passed\nfrom death to life--from the miseries of one world to the sublime\nanticipations of another--till he had borne a public testimony of\nhis gratitude to the Redeemer, by receiving the memorials of his\ndeath. He waited on the faithful minister who had been employed as\nthe angel of mercy to his soul, to express his desire; and on the\nfollowing Sabbath, with his honoured parent, he sat down at the\nLord's table, thus making a public profession of the faith which he\nonce scornfully rejected.\n\nThe morning after his return to London he went to the office, and\non entering every one arose to offer his congratulations; but Mr.\nGordon exceeded all in the ardour of his expressions. \"This,\" said\nhe, \"is one of the happiest days of my life, and I adore the fate\nwhich has decreed that death shall lose a victim to restore me my\nfriend.\"\n\n\"I adore the mercy,\" replied Lewellin, \"that has spared my life; and\nI trust, my dear Sir, that my friendship will now be a purer flame\nthan ever burnt on the altar of my heart.\"\n\nThis reply created a little embarrassment to Mr. Gordon; but he\nsoon got over it, and resumed his accustomed vivacity of disposition\nand ease of manners. In the evening they walked away together, when\nLewellin informed him that a material change had taken place in his\nsentiments and in his taste; and that if he wished for a renewal of\ntheir former intimacy, it must be on the express condition of paying\na most devout regard to the truths and institutions of revelation.\n\n\"What,\" said Gordon, \"are you again enslaved in the trammels of\nsuperstition; and do you expect that I shall bow my neck to such an\nignominious yoke!\"\n\n\"What you deem the yoke of ignominy, I esteem the badge of honour;\nand what you deem a cunningly devised fable, I esteem Divine truth.\nYou won me over to your sentiments, and what did they do for me?\nThey impaired my health. They tore up the foundation of a good\nconstitution, and they plunged me into despair. I lived a sceptic,\nbut I found that I could not die one. I am now restored to health,\nto truth, to happiness; and it is my determination to consecrate\nmyself to the service of God my Saviour.\"\n\n\"Ah, I pity you.\"\n\n\"Pity me! Pity is for objects of misery; and had you seen me when\nthe terrors of death fell on me, you might have pitied me: but now I\nwant no pity, for I am perfectly happy; happy, because redeemed and\nregenerated; and have the prospect of enjoying a state of endless\nhappiness in the world to come.\n\n\"Then, I suppose, in future our office is to become the hot-bed of\nfanaticism, where the rank weeds of an ancient superstition are to\novershade the lovely plants of reason's golden age?\"\n\n\"As I shall not obtrude my religious sentiments on the attention\nof others, you may calculate on passing through your professional\nduties without being annoyed, unless you first attack them; and in\nthat case, I shall certainly stand up in their defence.\"\n\n\"Well, well, that is all very fair. Then, if I do not commence the\nassault, you will not open your battery.\"\n\n\"It will be my aim to make myself agreeable, and to recommend my\nreligion more by my example than by my arguments; because I know how\nyou will evade the one, but it is not quite certain that even _you_\ncan withstand the other.\n\n\"Ah, I see you resolve to play off upon me in the same way in which\nI triumphed over you, and I have no objection for the experiment to\nbe tried; but it will not succeed.\"\n\nThe bold and decided manner in which Mr. Lewellin met the sarcasms\nof infidelity, and avowed his supreme regard to the truth of\nrevelation, cut off from his former companions all hopes of\ngetting him again to join their ranks; and they, as by mutual\nconsent, abstained from either pressing or enticing him to do so.\nHe now pursued his course without much obstruction, displaying an\namiability of temper, and a dignified integrity of principle, which\ngained him general respect; and though some regretted the change,\nyet all acknowledged that it was beneficial. His mind was too\npowerfully imbued with the love of the _grand and essential truths\nof revelation_, to admit of his cherishing any undue predilection\nfor the distinctive peculiarities of sectarian opinions; and hence\nhe very easily guarded religion against the obnoxious charges to\nwhich it is too often exposed, by the dogmatism and intolerance of\nits injudicious advocates. He was now introduced by his friend,\nMr. Jordan, to the Rev. W. C----, of whose church he became a\nmember; and such was the vital energy which he threw into all his\nengagements, and such the unaffected humility which adorned his\ncharacter, that he soon rose very high in the esteem of all his\nreligious associates. As a Sunday-school teacher, as a visitor of\nthe sick, and as an agent of the Tract Society, he was equalled by\nfew, and surpassed by none; and he never appeared more delighted\nthan when engaged, either alone or with others, in devising plans\nfor the promotion of the spiritual and eternal welfare of his\nfellow-men; and in carrying them into execution he spared neither\ntime, labour, nor expense.\n\n\n\n\nFAIRMOUNT.\n\n\nAt a time when I was recovering from a long and severe illness,\nwhich had interrupted the regular discharge of my ministerial\nlabours, and threatened the extinction of life, I received an\ninvitation from my friend, Mr. Stevens, who lived near the romantic\nvillage of Watville, and resolved to pay him a visit. I travelled by\neasy stages; and in three days after I left home, I became an inmate\nin his hospitable villa.\n\nThe villa of Fairmount is situated on the summit of a hill,\ncommanding an extensive view of a richly-wooded and picturesque\ncountry. On the evening of my arrival the scene was one of extreme\nbeauty. At the base of the hill flowed a meandering river,\nstretching away into the far distance, sometimes lost amidst the\nluxuriant foliage, and again suddenly reappearing; here reposing in\ncool shadow, there gleaming with the rays of the setting sun. On the\nright, a small parish church, with its pointed arch and tapering\nspire, peeped through an inclosure of aged elms and sycamores; on\nthe left, near the public road, a few white cottages, with trim\ngardens, where children were sporting gleefully. More distant, films\nof smoke marked the positions of various hamlets; and, stretching\nfar as the eye could reach, the hills of another county rose in\npurple masses against the evening sky. In the meadow, the cow and\nthe ox were feeding together, and from the sheepfold the bleating\nof the flock fell softly on the ear. A host of early associations\nrushed upon me, and filled me with pleasant recollections of days\nlong past, and I felt relieved from the pressure and perplexities of\nmy ordinary avocations.\n\nMr. Stevens, with whom I was now domiciled, was a very intelligent\nand pious man. In early life, like many others, he had imbibed the\nsceptical opinions of the age, but as they were invested with no\npower to\n\n  \"Heal the sorrows of the heart, or allay its fears,\"\n\nhe renounced them when the terrors of death fell upon him, and\nsought consolation at the cross of Christ. From that hour he became\na decided Christian, choosing rather to suffer the reproach which\nis too often cast _on genuine piety_, than endure the pleasures of\nsin, which are but for a season. Soon after _his translation from\ndarkness to light_, he was introduced to the amiable and pious\nMiss Bathurst, with whom he formed that sacred union, which has\nbeen through life a source of mutual felicity. The first few years\nafter their marriage they were extremely anxious for an heir, but\nas Providence denied them this gratification, they were disposed to\nacquiesce in his decision, and to reduce to a practical operation\nthe prayer which they had long been accustomed to repeat: \"Thy will\nbe done on earth, even as it is in heaven.\" Being exempted from the\ncharge and the expense of a family, they were more at liberty to\npromote the welfare of others; and rarely a day elapsed which did\nnot bear testimony to their benevolent exertions.\n\n[Illustration:\n\nDRAWN BY S. READ      ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS.\n\nA PROSPECT OF FAIRMOUNT.\n\nVol. i. page 32.]\n\nThe morning after my arrival, Mrs. Stevens asked me if I would\naccompany her to see a poor pious young woman who was very ill;\nand, lest the distance should be an objection, she told me she had\ngiven orders for the carriage to be ready exactly at half-past ten.\n\"And as, Sir,\" she remarked, \"you take greater pleasure in tracing\nthe operations of Divine grace in the renovation of the human soul\nthan in exploring the wonders of the material universe, and feel a\npurer delight on seeing a repenting sinner than in gazing on the\nenchanting scenery to which you have made such frequent allusions, I\nthink I can gratify you.\"\n\nAs we were passing along the road, she gave me the following\nnarration:--\"In the cottage to which we are going reside a poor\nman and his wife, who have had a large family, but all have died\nin infancy except one beautiful daughter. She, when only sixteen,\nentered the family of a respectable farmer in the adjoining parish,\nwhere she continued four years, and would, in all human probability,\nhave continued there till now, had it not been for a dashing London\nservant, who, when on a visit to her own father, got acquainted\nwith her; and by telling her of the high wages, and the little\nwork _which town servants have_, made her dissatisfied with her\nplace; and, in opposition to the advice of all her friends, she gave\nnotice to leave, and actually went to London to try her fortune.\nWhen she arrived there she called on her friend, who had promised\nto procure her a situation; but was informed that no good one had\nyet turned up. She was recommended to take a lodging, for which\nshe would have to pay only two shillings a-week, and no doubt, if\nshe made proper inquiry, she would hear of something that would\nbe for her advantage. Thus thrown on the world, without a home,\nand without a friend, she would have fallen a victim to her folly,\nhad not Providence interposed to protect her. As she was passing\nalong the Strand, with her bundle under her arm, a lady, who had\nonce seen her at my house, recognized her, and asked her where she\nwas going. The poor girl related her mournful tale, and implored\npity. This lady took her to her own home, but as she was not in\nwant of a servant, she could not retain her; yet she procured for\nher the best situation in her power. But, instead of high wages,\nshe had not so much as when in the country; and her work was much\nmore laborious. Thus disappointed, and having too high a spirit\nto return home, she gave herself up to grief; and taking a severe\ncold, which she neglected, her strength soon wasted away, and she\nwas obliged to throw up her situation, and go into lodgings for the\nrecovery of her health. But disease had made too great progress to\nbe arrested; and after parting with nearly all her clothes to defray\nthe expenses she had incurred, she was reduced to the alternative of\ndying for want or returning home. She wrote to her father, telling\nhim she was very ill, and did not expect to live, and desiring as a\nfavour that he would permit her to come home, and die in the room\nwhere she was born. As soon as the old man received her letter he\nhastened to our house; never did I witness such a burst of feeling.\n'O Madam! my dear Harriet is very ill; she has sent us this----,\nand wants to come home, she says, to die.' He wept, like the old\npatriarch, when he saw the bloody coat instead of his darling son.\nI endeavoured to console him as well as I could, and immediately\nmade an arrangement for her return. In the course of the next\nweek, the grief-worn parents had the melancholy gratification of\nembracing their child. She was obliged to take to her bed on the\nvery day of her arrival. I saw her the day after, and received from\nher a faithful narrative of her life. The wreck of beauty was still\nvisible amidst the ruins of her constitution; and the hectic flush\ngave, at intervals, a superhuman expression to her countenance.\nI felt conscious that she was hastening to the grave; and this\ncircumstance deeply depressed the feelings of her pious parents, who\nwere fearfully apprehensive that she was not prepared for death and\nthe final judgment. I requested them to leave us alone together,\nwhen I began to converse with her on the value of her soul, and on\nthe only way of salvation. She wept, and said that she was fully\naware of her danger and desert; but added, 'I hope that the Friend\nof sinners will have mercy on me. My conscience has often smote me;\nthe anguish of my mind I cannot describe; but I lay myself at His\nfeet, and cry, God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I have,\" added\nMrs. Stevens, \"regularly renewed my visits almost every day; and I\nhope that my feeble efforts have been made the means of leading her\nto the Saviour.\"\n\nWe now alighted from the carriage, and entered the cottage. Its\ncleanliness and order bespoke the presence of taste and religious\nfeeling. As soon as the poor girl heard that there was a minister of\nthe gospel in the house, she expressed an ardent desire to see me.\nWhen I approached her bedside, she exclaimed, \"'This is a faithful\nsaying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into\nthe world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.' My pious parents\nimpressed this fact on my memory in the days of my childhood, yet\nit never reached my heart till since I have been confined in this\nchamber. I have spent the prime of my days in vanity and sin,\nneglecting the means of grace, and disregarding the remonstrances of\nmy own conscience; and, had not an invisible hand arrested me in my\nprogress, I should have gone on till I had lost my soul. But here\nI am, a monument of mercy; a sinner saved through the blood of the\nLamb. That kind lady is the best earthly friend I ever had. She has\nbeen the means of making known to me the way of life; and now I can\nsay, 'I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is\nable to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.'\"\n\nI expressed the pleasure I felt at hearing these joyful tidings,\nmingled my tears of gratitude with those of her relatives and\nfriends, and after commending her soul to the care of the Lord\nJesus, I bade her adieu, till we meet in that world where no disease\nwill invade the constitution, where death will never burst asunder\nthe bonds of social union, and where\n\n  \"Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.\"\n\nAs we rode back to Fairmount, I congratulated Mrs. Stevens on the\nhonour which God had conferred on her, in employing her as the\ninstrument of saving this dying girl from the pangs of the second\ndeath.\n\n\"It is an honour which I prize more than gold and silver, and which\nimparts a purer joy to my mind than ever heaved the bosom of a mere\nearthly philanthropist; it invests the eternal world with a fresh\ncharm, as I expect to embrace my Harriet, as my own child in the\nfaith.\n\n\"I have often thought, that if the infidel could perceive the\nsources of pleasure which Christianity opens to the pious mind,\nhe would be less disposed to reproach her as hostile to human\nhappiness.\"\n\n\"Yes, but such is the degree of his mental aversion to pure\nChristianity, that her more sublime doctrines are turned into\nthemes of ridicule; the spirit which she inspires in her friends is\nregarded as the wild-fire of fanaticism, and our efforts to save\na soul from death are stigmatized as a paltry manoeuvre to gain a\nproselyte to our party; and though we may attempt to justify our\nconduct on the admitted principles of social benevolence, yet we can\nbut rarely succeed.\"\n\nOur conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a gentleman, who\nstepped out of his garden, and informed Mrs. Stevens that the poor\nwidow was worse, and was not expected to live through the day. This\ncommunication very deeply affected her. She paused, and then said,\n\"Do you think that I may be permitted to see her?\"\n\n\"Why, Madam,\" replied Mr. Roscoe, \"the medical attendant has given\nexpress orders that no one be allowed to see her except the nurse.\nI hear that she _has made her peace with God_, and is not afraid to\ndie. It will be a happy release for her.\"\n\n\"I hope Mrs. and Miss Roscoe are well; you will make my compliments\nto them, and say that we hope to see them at Fairmount very soon.\"\n\n\"Mr. Roscoe,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"is our nearest neighbour, but\nI fear that he has no just perception of the _nature_ of true\nreligion; though he is, _in his own estimation, a very religious\nman_. He is so amiable in temper, so kind in disposition, and so\nbenevolent in spirit, that every one esteems him who knows him; but\nI fear that he substitutes this exterior amiability in the place\nof the atonement of Jesus Christ; and thinks that nothing more is\nnecessary for salvation except an attendance at his parish church.\nBut I feel for the dying widow. I saw her at the commencement of her\nillness; but when I told her _that she was a sinner, and that she\ncould not be saved but through faith in the merits of Jesus Christ_,\nshe told me that _she had never done any harm in her life, and\nthat she did not doubt of the mercy of God_. I have called several\ntimes since; but, as I attempted _to disturb her peace in her\ndying moments_, I have not been permitted to see her again; and I\nunderstand some very severe remarks have been made on what is called\nmy _cruel conduct_.\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam,\" I replied, \"the spirit of the world will often forbid\nthe herald of mercy entering the chamber of affliction, and will\nwrap up the departing soul in the winding-sheet of self-security\nbefore it enters the valley of the shadow of death. The language of\nJesus Christ in reference to such a state of mind is _very, very_\nawful: 'Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not\nprophesied in thy name; and in thy name have cast out devils; and\nin thy name done many wonderful works? And then I will profess unto\nthem, I never knew you: depart from me ye that work iniquity.'\"\n\n\"I grant,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"that prudence often renders it\nnecessary to exclude even intimate friends from the sick chamber,\nlest the patient should have too much excitement; but to exclude\nfriends merely _because they are religious_, and who may be disposed\nto say something in relation to that tremendous scene which\neternity opens on the disembodied spirit, is a crime of no ordinary\nmagnitude; and if the spirit were permitted to step back, after that\nscene has been beheld, in what indignant language would she condemn\nsuch an act of fatal cruelty.\"\n\n\"It is a most momentous event in the history of a human being, when\nhe passes from one world to another; when he steps out of time\ninto eternity; but how perilously awful to make the passage when\nunprepared to go. I recollect going to see one of my hearers who\nwas dangerously ill; but on recognizing my well-known foot-tread as\nI entered his chamber, he concealed himself under the bed-clothes,\nand we spoke not for several minutes; no sounds were heard, but his\nheavy sighs and piercing groans. He put out his hand, which I took,\nand gently pressed; we still remained silent, both being too highly\nsurcharged with mental emotion to give utterance to what we felt.\nAt length he threw off the bed-clothes, looked on me with intense\nearnestness, and exclaimed, 'O Sir, I am lost; I shall be in hell\nbefore the morning.'\"\n\n\"What a terrific vision! were you able to speak any words of peace\nto his soul?\"\n\n\"I did speak words of peace, but they gave him neither peace nor\ncomfort.\"\n\n\"Did he die, Sir?\"\n\n\"Yes, he died the very next day; and his last words were, 'I AM\nLOST; LOST FOR EVER!'\"\n\n\"How very awful!\"\n\n\"In such a case the tremendous catastrophe is expected; but now,\nlet us think for a moment of a person passing out of one world to\nanother (as many alas! do) under a delusive expectation of going to\nheaven; but on stepping out of time into eternity, he finds himself\nin hell. What must be his surprise; his terror-struck anguish; his\nfearful, his terrific exclamations of agonized woe; his condition,\nbearing some analogy, though infinitely more tremendous and\nappalling, to that of a culprit tried and cast for death, when in a\ntrance, knowing nothing of the process or the issue, till he feels\nthe minister of death adjusting the rope on the fatal platform;\nawakening up to a state of consciousness just before the drop falls.\nWhile in a trance, he might be moving amidst the congratulations\nof his family and his friends, to take possession of a newly\nbequeathed inheritance; with what terrific consternation would\nhe, on recovering the use of his reason, find himself under the\ngallows of infamy, tied to its cross beam, the executioner by his\nside, stepping back to draw the bolt which is to give him to death\nstruggles and to death.\"\n\n\"Your illustration is terrific; but it is not equal to the\ntremendous reality--a soul lost, when, under a fatal delusion,\nexpecting to be saved.\"\n\nWe now came in sight of Fairmount, and that turned the current of\nour conversation to a more interesting theme. I remarked, \"that\nI thought the country more favourable to devotional feeling than\nthe city. The gaiety and the bustle of the one distract the mind;\nwhereas the quietude of the other composes it.\"\n\n\"True, Sir, but the spirit of devotion would soon languish\nbeside the murmuring stream, or beneath the silent shade, unless\ninvigorated by the unction which cometh from above. If we, who\nlive in the country, have fewer temptations than those who live\nin cities, yet in general we have fewer religious advantages; and\nthough not altogether deprived of the society of Christian friends,\nyet it is but seldom that we are surrounded by a sufficient number\nto admit of making a selection.\"\n\nOn entering the parlour, Mr. Stevens soon joined us, and seemed\nmuch interested by the report of our morning's excursion. Having\npartaken of a plain dinner, he and I adjourned to a sequestered\narbour, at the extreme point of his shrubbery, where we sat\nconversing the greater part of the afternoon. \"Mr. Roscoe,\" he\nobserved, \"to whom you were introduced this morning, is a most\ninteresting companion. He is a man of very extensive reading, of\ndeep and close reflection, of a fine taste, very benevolent in\ndisposition, of strict integrity, and very religious in his own way.\nHe is rather too fond of disputation, and there is no subject which\nhe likes to discuss more than the subject of religion, though I\nthink he does not understand it so well as he does many others.\"\n\n\"Is he fond of introducing religious subjects in conversation?\"\n\n\"Very.\"\n\n\"Does he introduce them merely for discussion, or in relation to\ntheir practical tendency?\"\n\n\"Why, his uniform design, if I may be permitted to judge of his\nmotive, is to excite a general feeling of disgust against what he\ncalls the Methodistical or Calvinistic delusions of the age, which\nhe regards as more injurious to our national character, and more\ndestructive to our happiness, than even the spirit of infidelity\nitself.\"\n\n\"Then I presume that you are not very intimate.\"\n\n\"O yes, we are. We often protract the debate till our wives\ninterfere, and request us to remember the hour.\"\n\n\"But are not some of his prejudices against the demoralizing\ntendency of the Methodistical delusion (to use his own phraseology)\nshaken by your conduct?\"\n\n\"O no; he has, like many others, an ingenious expedient, by which\nthe force of individual example against his sweeping charge is\nrepelled. He says that our superior good sense, and our superior\nvirtue, prevent these delusions from operating on us as they operate\non others. So you see that his complaisance nullifies the argument\nwhich he cannot refute; and the mine which Christian consistency\nsprings beneath an erroneous opinion, is countermined by the\nartifice which friendship employs.\"\n\n\"Is he very dogmatical in conversation?\"\n\n\"Rather so; but he never loses his temper. Indeed, he is a most\nvaluable man; and if it should please God, who commanded the light\nto shine out of darkness, to shine into his heart, to give him the\nlight of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus\nChrist, he would, I have no doubt, carry the attainments of the\nChristian character to the highest point of excellence.\"\n\n\"Is Mrs. Roscoe of the same way of thinking with her husband?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I do not think that _she ever thinks_ on the subject of\nreligion. She goes to church, reads the _Week's Preparation_, takes\nthe sacrament, feeds and clothes the poor, and says that, in her\nopinion, nothing more is required of her. She sometimes listens, it\nis true, to our discussions, but it is more, I apprehend, from the\nrespect which she feels for the laws of politeness, than from any\ninterest which she takes in the subject. Miss Roscoe, who is a most\namiable creature, ventures occasionally to make a few observations,\nand sometimes to ask a few questions, but she is very guarded. Mrs.\nStevens presented her with a copy of Doddridge's _Rise and Progress\nof Religion in the Soul_ the last time she gave us a call; and from\nthe spirit in which she received the present, and the assurance she\ngave that she would read the book, we entertain some hope that the\nlight of truth will lead her to the well-spring of true happiness.\"\n\n\"From a remark which Mrs. Stevens made to Mr. Roscoe, when we parted\nwith him, I hope that I shall have the pleasure of spending an hour\nor two in his company before I leave Fairmount.\"\n\n\"Yes, he and his family dine with us next week; but you must\ncontrive to hide the colour of your cloth if you wish to draw him\nout in conversation, especially religious conversation, for you\nDissenting ministers do not stand very high in his esteem. He thinks\nthat you have obtruded yourselves on an office which, for want of\nlearning and episcopal ordination, you are not qualified to fill. He\ncan relish none but Oxford or Cambridge men.\"\n\nMrs. Stevens, accompanied by a little niece, who was a weekly\nboarder at a ladies' school on the other side of the hill, came to\ninvite us to tea in the alcove. We took a circuitous route through\nthe shrubbery, till we entered on the lawn, at the bottom of which\nnature and art had combined their skill in the beautifying of this\nrural retreat. While sitting there, receiving the refreshment which\nthe hand of an indulgent Providence had provided, and listening\nto the sweet harmony of the feathered tribe, the servant, who had\njust returned from the neighbouring town, delivered to his master a\nnewspaper and a packet of letters. Mr. Stevens, having apologized\nfor his rudeness (as he called it), proceeded to open the letters,\nand, to neutralize my displeasure, he placed the paper in my hands.\n\"My dear,\" addressing himself to Mrs. Stevens, \"I have some good\nnews to tell you. Mr. Lewellin has accepted our invitation, and will\nbe here, if Providence permit, next Thursday.\"\n\n\"One mercy, like one affliction,\" replied Mrs. Stevens, \"seldom\ncomes alone.\" Addressing herself to me, \"I hope to have the pleasure\nof introducing to you a nephew, who has recently felt the power of\nthe truth, which he once affected to despise.\"\n\n\"The society of Christian friends is always animating, but\nparticularly the society of those who have recently passed from\ndeath to life, who have just been redeemed from the dominion of\nSatan, and brought into the glorious liberty of the children of God.\nThere is usually such an expressive animation in their look and in\ntheir utterances; they have the freshness of their new life glowing\nupon them; and when speaking of what they know, and testifying\nof what they have seen and felt, they do it with a simplicity\nand earnestness which has a fine and powerful influence over our\nspirits. We glorify God in them.\"\n\n\"My nephew is the only son of a pious mother, and she is a widow.\nHe was permitted to run to great lengths in the paths of evil, but\nthe Lord has had mercy on him, and his conversion is, in my opinion,\nas great a proof of the divinity of this Christian faith as the\nconversion of St. Paul.\"\n\n\"Pray, is he the son of Mrs. Lewellin, who lives in the village of\nStenmoor, that you refer to?\"\n\n\"Yes; do you know him?\"\n\n\"I have the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Lewellin, but not her son, only\nby character. To meet with him will be no small addition to the\ngratification I feel from my visit to your lovely villa.\"\n\n\n\n\nA MORNING'S RAMBLE.\n\n\nWhen the devotions of the morning were discharged, I strolled out\nalone, intending to amuse myself for a few hours in collecting\nsome fossils, out of the quarry near the Rectory. As I was passing\nthrough a thick coppice, I met a little boy, very neatly dressed,\nwho politely made me a country bow.\n\n\"Well, my little fellow, what is your name?\" \"Jemmy Allen.\" \"And\nwhere do you live?\" \"In the cottage just at the end of this wood.\"\n\"And how many brothers and sisters have you?\" \"None, Sir.\" \"And\nwhat is your father?\" \"A ploughman.\" \"And where are you going?\" \"Up\nto Squire Stevens', to get a little gruel for mother, who is very\npoorly.\" \"Can you read?\" \"Yes, Sir, I can read the Testament, which\nSquire Stevens gave me.\" \"Can you tell me who made you?\" \"God.\" \"Who\ncame into the world to save sinners?\" \"Jesus Christ.\" \"What must you\ndo to be saved?\" \"I must be sorry for my sins; I must pray to God to\nforgive me what is past, and serve him better for the time to come.\"\n\nI proceeded in questioning him, and was pleased to find that he\ncould repeat the whole of Watt's Catechism, and also a great\npart of that composed by the Assembly of Divines. His knowledge\nof the Scriptures was extensive, considering his years; and he\nrepeated to me the whole of the commandments, with our Lord's\nsummary of them, as recorded in the twenty-second chapter of the\nGospel by Matthew. Having given him a trifle, as a reward for his\npast diligence, and as a stimulus for the future, I moved on, and\nsoon came within sight of his mother's cottage, which presented\nto my imagination more powerful attractions than the quarry I had\nintended to visit. On entering, which I did without ceremony, I\nbeheld an interesting-looking female, apparently very ill, seated\nin an arm-chair. I apologized for my intrusion, which occasioned\nher a little embarrassment. After thanking me, as a minister of\nJesus Christ, for the honour I had done her, she asked me to take a\nseat. Her cottage stood alone, almost entirely surrounded by tall\nelm trees, and seemed, by its sacred furniture, consisting of a\nBible, hymn-books, tracts, &c. (the symbols of the Divine presence),\nset apart as a local habitation for an heir of glory. A few lines,\nonce addressed to a secluded saint, involuntarily occurred to my\nrecollection: \"Our Lord has many jewels. Among the number, there are\nsome of such peculiar properties that he does not choose to expose\nthem to public observation. He separates them from the general\nassemblage, secluding them for his own complacent contemplation, and\nsets them as a seal upon his heart.\"\n\n\"You have a lovely retreat from the world, but I suppose, like\nothers, you are sometimes disturbed by its cares.\"\n\n\"_I have been_, but now I have cast all my cares on him who has\npromised to sustain me.\"\n\n\"Then you have reached one of the highest points of experimental\nreligion, and may look down on this tumultuous scene with an eye of\ncomparative indifference.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I would not exchange my situation or my prospects for\nany other that could be offered me. I have not much of this world's\ngoods, nor yet many wants; but I have an unclouded prospect of\nfuture happiness, which reconciles me to my lot.\"\n\n\"But have you been always so highly favoured!\"\n\n\"O no, Sir. For many years I was kept in a state of spiritual\nbondage, sighing for liberty which I could not obtain, and praying\nfor peace, but had great bitterness. At length it pleased God to\nshine in upon my mind 'with beams of heavenly grace;' and the plan\nof salvation, of which I could previously form no just ideas, was\nexhibited with such clearness, that the burden of guilt fell off my\nconscience; and from that blessed hour to the present, I have not\nhad a doubt of my interest in the merits of my Redeemer. The long\naffliction with which I have been visited has brought me into more\nintimate communion with Him; my soul is as a weaned child; and I am\nwaiting the summons to depart.\"\n\n\"But what a chasm will your departure make in the happiness of your\nlittle family!\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear husband will feel the stroke; and so will my dear\nlittle boy. Nature still yearns over them, but I am enabled to leave\nthem, as a dying legacy, to the Lord of life. My husband, I believe,\nis on the way to the kingdom of heaven; and my boy, I hope, though\nvery young, fears the Lord God of his parents; so that I die under a\nfirm persuasion that our intercourse will not be destroyed, but only\nsuspended for a season.\"\n\n\"Then you can die in peace?\"\n\n\"In peace, Sir!\" pausing as though her redeemed spirit laboured\nfor some more than common form of expression as the vehicle of her\nutterance, \"that word is not descriptive of my state of mind; I feel\na joy which is full of glory, and such an intense longing of soul to\nbe introduced into the presence of my Lord, that at times I fear I\nam too impatient for the descent of the celestial chariot in which I\nam to enter through the gates into the city.\"\n\n\"I suppose that, though you live secluded from the world, you are\nsometimes visited by pious friends?\"\n\n\"The Rev. Mr. Ingleby, the venerable rector of Broadhurst, from\nwhom I received the word of truth, often comes and spends an hour\nwith me. He considers me as the first-fruits of his ministry; and\nI rejoice, _as only the first-fruits_, for since it pleased the\nLord to call me by his grace, there have been many to whom he has\nbeen the instrument of conveying the grace of life. Our hamlet was\nthe land of darkness before that bright light rose upon us; but now\nit is as the land of Goshen. What a glorious change has been made\nin Squire Stevens and his lady, who live at Fairmount villa! When\nthey came to live there, they took the lead in all the fashions and\namusements of the gay and ungodly; very seldom attended church on a\nSunday, and often uttered many hard speeches against Mr. Ingleby;\nbut their prejudices vanished as soon as they heard him, and now\nthey are become the most spiritual and zealous family in our parts.\nThere was a fine stir when they left their own parish church to\nattend the ministry of Mr. Ingleby, who preaches about a mile and a\nhalf off; but they have displayed so much of the superior excellence\nof the Christian character, and conducted themselves with so much\ngodly consistency, that even the enemies of the cross are loud in\ntheir praise. They sometimes call to see me, and when they do not\ncall they often send; and the other day, when I was expressing my\ngratitude to Mrs. Stevens for the numerous favours I had received,\nshe replied, with an emphasis which I shall never forget, '_The\nsteward should wait in the hall after he has delivered the present;\nand then return and deliver the note of thanks to his lord who\nsent it._' I hope, as you are a stranger among us, you will call\nat Fairmount, where, I am sure, you will meet with a very kind\nreception.\"\n\nI made no reply, but proposed reading a chapter and going to prayer.\nI read the 23d Psalm, on which I made a few appropriate remarks, and\nthen bowed before the footstool of the Divine throne. It is true\nI had no soft cushion to kneel on, but I felt that the ground was\nrendered sacred by the presence of the Holy One; I had no prescribed\nform to aid my devotion, but I felt under the peculiar dictations\nof the Spirit, who maketh intercession within the saints; and\narose, not to lose a recollection of the interview amidst the din\nof business, or the dissipations of life, but to cherish it as a\nlatent proof of the connection which subsists between the spiritual\nand material world, and as supplying me with a fresh evidence of the\nimmense value of that scheme of redemption which admits sinners into\nfellowship with their sovereign Lord.\n\n[Illustration: FIRST INTERVIEW WITH FARMER PICKFORD.\n\nVol. i. page 47.]\n\nSoon after I left this lonely cottage, on crossing over a\nneighbouring field, I saw a farm-house at a distance, and finding\nfrom my watch that I had two hours more at my disposal, I resolved\nto visit it. On entering the yard I met the farmer, Mr. Pickford,\na respectable-looking man, who invited me, in the true spirit of\nrural hospitality, to walk in and take a mug of ale. I had not been\nseated many minutes before the crusty brown loaf, the delicate cream\ncheese, and the can of fresh ale made their appearance, and as my\nappetite was rather keen, I relished my lunch. But as my principal\ndesign was the survey of human character, I easily contrived to\ninduce my host to exhibit himself, which he did in pure native style.\n\n\"I have been admiring, farmer, the neatness of your hedges, and the\ncleanliness of your fields, which, added to the richness of the\nfoliage and the luxuriance of the crops, gives a fine effect to the\nscenery around.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay, Sir, a country life for me. I shouldn't like to be pent\nup in the smoke of a city all my days, though my foolish girls are\nalways saying that there are more pastimes in a town than in a\nvillage.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, we have many sources of amusement in a city which you\ncannot have in the country; but we are exposed to more danger, from\nthe temptations to which we are liable.\"\n\n\"That makes good what I have often said, that town-folks are worse\nthan country-folks.\"\n\n\"But if a man be inclined to be wicked, he will be wicked anywhere.\nI suppose you have some about you _who are not quite so good as they\nought to be_.\"\n\n\"Yes, there are a few of that sort, the worse luck; but then we\nhave some who are _better than they need be_, and so the quantum of\ngoodness is made up to the full Winchester measure.\"\n\n\"Indeed! I never saw a man better than he ought to be.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, perhaps I made a mistake. I should have said, we have\nsome who _pretend to be better than they need be_; but you know that\na man may pretend to what he a'n't got.\"\n\n\"True; but what sort of persons do you now refer to?\"\n\n\"To these Methodists;[1] before they came we were as peaceable as a\nflock of sheep in a fold; but now we are always wrangling; and, in\nspite of us, they have put down all the little merry-makings which\nwe used to have among us.\"\n\n  [1] The epithet Methodist is taken in its popular acceptation, as\n  employed by the antievangelical part of society.\n\n\"But how have they put down your merry-makings?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, we used to have as good a pit of cocks as any in the\ncountry; but now the very men who used to breed the best sort are\nturned Methodists; and when I asked one the other day if he had any\nyoung ones hatched yet, he told me that he had seen his wickedness,\nand hoped never to be permitted to fall into the sin again; as\nthough God Almighty would be offended at the innocent pastimes of a\nvillage.\"\n\n\"But do you not suppose that the cocks which fight inflict pain on\neach other; and can a humane person derive any amusement from the\nagonies of a dumb animal?\"\n\n\"True, Sir; some, I know, are against such sports, but I must\nconfess that I have a bit of a liking for them.\"\n\n\"I believe, from what little I know of rural life, that the\n_innocent pastimes_ of the village usually terminate in scenes of\ndrunkenness, rioting, and lewdness; and pray, farmer, have you never\nseen the bad effects of them on your friends, and on your servants?\"\n\n\"Ay, ay, Sir, you now strike home, but what are people to do; they\nmust have a little 'laxation from hard work sometimes.\"\n\n\"But you say 'these things are put down by the Methodists, in spite\nof you;' what do the people do now?\"\n\n\"O, nearly all of them are turned Methodists, and Squire Stevens,\nwho lives up at Fairmount yonder, is at the head of them.\"\n\n\"What sort of a gentleman is he?\"\n\n\"He is very well in his way, only he has too much religion.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by too much religion?\"\n\n\"Why, he is always talking about it, and giving away little books,\nand visiting the poor, and praying with them in their houses, and\npreaching to them in his chapel which he built for them. And some\npeople say he can preach a better sarmunt than parson Cole, who is\na regular Oxford man. His wife is a cleverish sort of a woman; she\nlooked in here one day, and talked away at a fine rate about Jesus\nChrist and salvation by grace; and I have had main hard work ever\nsince to keep my wife from running after this new sort of religion.\"\n\n\"Pray, farmer, have you ever seriously reflected on the worth of\nyour soul?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I have something else to reflect on.\"\n\n\"But have you any subject to reflect on of equal importance? Do you\nnot know that your soul, when it leaves the body, will exist for\never in a state of happiness or misery?\"\n\n\"So the parsons tell us, but they may be out in their judgment as\nwell as other people. I don't believe all they say. I strike off\none-half, and then there's plenty left.\"\n\n\"Do you ever think on the subject of death?\"\n\n\"No, I don't like to think on such a gloomy subject.\"\n\n\"But why not, when you know you must die soon, and may die to-night?\"\n\n\"I hope not, for I a'n't fit to die.\"\n\n\"And are you conscious that you are not fit to die, and yet neglect\nto think about it? Is it possible?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, methinks it's time enough to think about it when it\ncomes.\"\n\n\"But it may come suddenly, like a thief in the night, and bear off\nyour soul to the great world of spirits.\"\n\n\"If it should, then the Lord have mercy on my soul. I suppose he\nwill, as he likes to save sinners, so the parsons say.\"\n\nI then described to him the frame of mind in which I had left Mrs.\nAllen--his wife being present the whole of the time. He could not\nrefrain from weeping, though he endeavoured to conceal his tears;\nand when I had finished, he said that he knew her very well, but as\nshe was a Methodist, he had been prejudiced against her, but added,\n\"If this be a sample of their religion, it is of a better sort than\nI imagined.\" And turning to his wife, he said, \"Do as you like, I\nwill never oppose thee again.\"\n\n\"That's the best news I have heard to-day. I'll go to chapel on\nSunday.\"\n\n\"I hope, Sir, that you will stay and take a pot-luck dinner with us;\nit will be plainish fare, but a hearty welcome.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, do,\" said his modest-looking wife; \"we have just killed a\npig, and I have a nice pork pie, and some apple sauce and cream.\"\n\nI thanked them both for their kindness, but declined accepting\nthe invitation, having engaged to dine with a friend in the\nneighbourhood.\n\n\"Pray, Sir, if a body may be so bold, do I know your friend?\"\n\n\"You do know him; and perhaps if I mention his name, you will feel a\nmomentary embarrassment.\"\n\n\"I fear no man; and I don't think I have got an enemy in all these\nparts.\"\n\n\"I am going to dine with Mr. Stevens.\"\n\n\"Hollo! I sometimes talk a bit too fast; the worse luck; however,\ndon't say what I have said. He is a gentleman; I would not offend\nhim for the world. We live on very good terms; and a better man\ndoes not exist, and I am sure his wife is the best woman in all the\nparish.\"\n\nI told him that he might make himself very easy, as it was not my\nhabit to sow discord among neighbours. I promised to call again\nbefore I left, which appeared to give him pleasure.\n\nAs I was walking up the hill which leads towards the villa, I met\na venerable-looking gentleman, in the costume of a clergyman. We\nbowed; and, with an air of peculiar kindness, he said, \"I presume I\nam addressing the Rev. Mr. S----s?\"\n\n\"My name, Sir, is S----s.\"\n\n\"I am happy to see you in these parts; but I shall be more happy by\nseeing you at the rectory. We are both, I trust, ministers of the\ngospel; and though we labour in different communions, yet, as we\nexpect to dwell together in heaven, I see no reason why we should\nshun each other's society on earth.\"\n\n\"Our Lord has broken down the middle wall of partition, but bigotry\nhas been endeavouring almost ever since to rebuild it; and though\nshe has succeeded in raising it up immensely high in some parts of\nher empire, yet, as she cannot always secure a good foundation, we\noccasionally find an opening through which we can pass to enjoy the\nfellowship of the saints.\"\n\n\"Ay, Sir, I often pray, 'Raze it, raze it, even to the foundation\nthereof.'\"\n\n\"And to such a prayer I can most cheerfully respond, Amen.\"\n\n\"But do you not think,\" added Mr. Ingleby, \"that the spirit of\nliberality is gaining ground among us?\"\n\n\"I hope it is; but there is very much land yet unoccupied.\"\n\n\"True, but there have been some large inclosures made within the\nlast half-century. Your London Missionary Society, which breathes\nsuch a catholic spirit, has brought together many of the children\nof God who were scattered abroad; and the British and Foreign Bible\nSociety has bound them together as with a threefold cord, which the\ndemon of bigotry will never be able to burst asunder.\"\n\n\"I think your remarks are correct; but I want to see more of the\nspirit of liberality of sentiment and feeling which is often\nexpressed, and often applauded at our public meetings, brought\ninto expression and practical operation in social life. I want to\nsee Christians of every denomination mingling together, not in the\ncostume and with the spirit of their distinctive order, but in\ntheir more dignified and exalted character, as disciples of the\nLord Jesus. I want to see them disposed to merge the trifling\ndistinctions in the more important consideration of their relative\nunion to each other; and if the spirit of contention is to prevail\namong us, let it be the spirit which Paul inculcates, when he\nexhorted the Hebrews to provoke one another to love and good works.\"\n\n\"Your sentiments,\" replied the pious rector, \"exactly accord with\nmy own; and though I do not expect that the spirit of bigotry will\ndie and be buried before I am called to rest with my fathers,\nyet I hope, when standing on the top of the celestial hills, to\nwitness her interment, and then, in ecstasy, I will respond to the\njoyous shout which earth will raise, when she exclaims, 'Bigotry is\nfallen--is fallen!'\"\n\n\"I have just had the pleasure of an interview with Mrs. Allen.\"\n\n\"Ay, she is an eminent saint. How is she, Sir?--I am now going to\nsee her.\"\n\n\"She appears to be drawing near her latter end, but I do not think\nthere is any prospect of an immediate change; she is in a most\nheavenly frame of mind.\"\n\n\"When I first knew her, which is now near twenty-five years ago,\nshe came to live with me; but her temper was so violent, and her\nenmity to the gospel so inveterate, that I was obliged to part with\nher. After she left me, she went to live with a dissolute gentleman\nin the neighbourhood, when the seed of the kingdom, which had been\nunconsciously deposited in her heart, sprang up; and after remaining\nin her situation for a few months, she returned to my service, and\nnever have I seen a more manifest proof of the efficacy of Divine\ngrace.\"\n\n\"Religion will sometimes reform a vicious life, and check the evil\npropensities of the heart, while the _temper_ is left unsubdued.\nWhat influence have her religious principles over her temper?\"\n\n\"I am happy to say that the lion became a lamb, and in meekness and\ngentleness of spirit she surpasses most. But I perceive,\" looking\nat his watch, \"that I cannot prolong our conversation, as I have\nan appointment; and therefore I beg you will do me the honour of\na visit before you leave. Come early in the morning, or consent to\nstay the whole of the night.\"\n\nI reached Fairmount about half-an-hour before dinner, which gave\nme an opportunity of recording in my diary the incidents of the\nmorning. As I sat musing on the raptures of the dying Christian,\nthe ignorance of the worthy farmer, and the liberality of the\nvenerable clergyman, the servant tapped at my door, and informed\nme that the family were waiting. I immediately made my appearance\nin the parlour, when Mrs. Stevens said, \"I have the pleasure, of\nintroducing to you my nephew, Mr. Lewellin.\" I took his hand with\nmingled emotions of surprise and joy, offered him my congratulations\non the great change which had taken place in his moral and spiritual\ncharacter, inquired after his pious mother, and then sat down to\nrefresh myself with the provisions of hospitality.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HORNINGSHAM SAILOR.\n\n\nDinner being ended, we adjourned to the back parlour, whose folding\ndoors opened on the lawn, and exhibited a sweet scene of tranquil\nbeauty.\n\n\"The heart that is insensible to the charms of nature,\" said Mr.\nLewellin, \"must be devoid of taste and feeling.\"\n\n\"True,\" replied Mr. Stevens, \"but how many feel these charms who\nnever hold communion with Him who has invested them with their\nmagic power. They profess to rise up through nature, 'to nature's\nGod;' but their conceptions of His character are essentially\ndefective; they admire His grandeur and His greatness, but there\nis no recognition of His purity; they extol His benevolence, but\nare not awed by His justice. I recollect being in company with a\ngentleman, who was an impassioned admirer of nature, and after an\neloquent descant on its magnificent scenery, he concluded by saying,\n'The Deity, who has given existence to such physical wonders, would\nact a very undignified part to stoop so low as to notice the little\nfrailties of humanity; but to suppose he would punish them, would\nbe to offer Him an insult.' Hence they very naturally, from their\nassumed premises, scornfully reject the remedial scheme of salvation\nthat is revealed to us in the Scriptures.\"\n\n\"Our reception or rejection of the Scripture scheme of salvation,\"\nsaid Mr. Lewellin, \"depends on the opinion we form of the character\nof God; for if his purity and equity be not recognized, the law\nwhich commands obedience will be denounced; the distinction between\nvirtue and vice, which the Scriptures mark with such precision, will\nbe confounded; and the whole scheme of Divine mercy will be regarded\nas a cunningly devised fable. I remember the time when I lived\nwithout any habitual reverence for the Supreme Being. I admired the\nwisdom and the benevolence which I could trace in the construction\nof the universe; but it neither excited gratitude, nor led to any\ndependence on God for preservation from evil, or for happiness. It\nis true when the elements were disturbed, when the tempest raged,\nwhen the lightning flashed, and when the thunder roared, I trembled;\nbut no sooner had these commotions ceased, than all was tranquil\nwithin; yet it was not peace of mind, it was a moral torpor, a\njudicial insensibility, the ease which precedes the moral pangs of\nthe second death.\"\n\nThis reference to his former state induced me to ask him to give us\nan account of his conversion. He complied with my request; but as\nthe more prominent incidents have been already narrated, I need not\ndetail the whole of his statement.\n\n\"My mind,\" he observed, \"was in a peculiarly serene frame when I\nconsented to accompany my mother to chapel. I had been that morning\non a visit to a friend, in whose society I had passed many hours\nof pleasant intercourse; and our conversation unexpectedly took\na religious turn. 'I have recently,' said my friend, 'had my mind\nvery much occupied and perplexed about the truth or falsehood of\nChristianity. If Christianity be a cunningly devised fable, we are\nsafe; but if it be a true revelation from heaven, we are undone.'\n'It is no fable,' I replied; 'it is too true.' 'Then how can we\njustify that indifference which we pay to it?' 'To justify it is\nimpossible; but such is the native insensibility of our hearts to\nunseen and eternal realities, that nothing but an extraordinary\ndispensation of Heaven can rouse us to a state of proper feeling.'\n'Pray, Sir,' said my friend, 'what was the state of your mind in\nthe immediate prospect of death?' 'I was,' I replied, 'in great\nagony, and its intensity increased as the symptoms of coming death\nbecame more decisive. I drew back with horror from the scene which\nwas before me; but yet at times I longed to plunge into the dark\nabyss, that I might know the utmost of my misery.' 'But could you\nderive no hope from the consolations which Christianity holds out to\nman?' 'None; mine appeared a hopeless case. An allusion to mercy had\na more terrific effect than the utterance of the tremendous word,\nDepart!' 'I think,' he replied, 'that religious people are generally\nmore happy than those who are irreligious; and it is certain, if\nthe testimony of the most respectable witnesses can be received,\nthat they are infinitely more happy in the prospect of death.' 'Yes,\nSir, they are, and very naturally so. They expect by the loss of\nlife to gain the prize of a glorious immortality. We have no such\na prospect!' 'That's true. To us a hereafter is a dead blank, or\ntorments for ever. What a difference!' As I was returning to my\nmother's cottage, I felt an unusual elevation of soul, for which I\ncould assign no real cause. 'Is this,' I involuntarily exclaimed,\n'the first beaming of mercy? Impossible! But why?' The train of\nthought which now passed through my mind necessarily partook of\nthe singular character of my feelings; and though I could not fix\nmy attention on religious subjects, yet I felt no inclination to\ndismiss them. After I reached home, as I sat musing over the recent\noccurrences of my life, I opened a hymn-book which was lying near\nme, and felt deeply impressed by a hymn to which I chanced to turn,\nand which was very appropriate to the state of my mind. The same\nafternoon my mother asked me to accompany her to chapel, which gave\nme more pleasure than I wished to discover. I was delighted with the\nfervour of the singing, and the chaste simplicity of the prayer, and\na few petitions which were uttered struck me with great force.\"\n\n\"Do you recollect these petitions?\" said Mrs. Stevens.\n\n\"I shall never forget them--'Enlighten, we beseech you, O Lord, our\ndark understandings!--renovate our depraved nature!--deepen the\nimpressions which thy truth has already made on our hearts!--and\nadmit us, through the mediation of Jesus Christ, into communion with\nthee, the only source of pure and substantial bliss!' Never did\nwords, uttered by human voice, produce a more powerful effect; but\nit was not till the minister began to enlarge on the condescension\nand death of the Lord Jesus, that I felt my guilt and perceived my\ndanger. I retired from the chapel with a class of feeling which had\nnever been previously excited within my breast; yet I cannot say\nwhether joy or sorrow most preponderated. I wept as my sins came\nto my remembrance, but my most sacred tears were shed in gratitude\nto the Redeemer for the thrilling manifestation of his pity and\nhis love. I felt the change, on passing from a state of spiritual\ndeath to newness of life, as consciously as I now feel the action of\nlife in my vital system; nor could any species of sophistry induce\nme to doubt it--a change which produced an entire revolution in\nmy sentiments and principles; in my habits and in the objects of\nmy pursuit; and though it has called down upon me the sarcasms of\nthe sceptic, yet I am not ashamed to own that it is 'by the grace\nof God I am what I am.' My mother, when I told her of it, fell\non my neck and kissed me; she wept tears of joy, and then knelt\ndown and returned thanks to God for his abundant mercy towards me.\nNever, till that eventful evening, had I tasted of such pure, such\nunmingled felicity.\"\n\nEvery one present was deeply affected by this narration. Mr.\nStevens was about to continue the conversation, when our attention\nwas attracted by an English sailor, who approached and asked an\nalms. Mr. Stevens, who was fond of seeing all the varieties of human\ncharacter, invited him to take a seat, and after inquiring where he\nhad come from, and how long he had been at sea, said, \"I dare say\nyou have endured many hardships in your dangerous profession; it\nwould be interesting to us if you would give us some account of your\nlife.\"\n\n\"My life, please your honour,\" replied the weather-beaten tar, \"has\nbeen a chequered life. I was born at Horningsham, a small village\nin Wiltshire. My father had three children. He was very religious,\nand so was my mother. They taught us to read the Bible and to pray,\nand took us to chapel every Sunday. But I was always a wildish\nlad, and so was brother George, who was a year younger than I. One\nnight, when we were about seventeen years old, we set off, unknown\nto father or mother, to go to sea. We walked all night, and all the\nnext day, till we got to Botley, between Southampton and Tichfield,\nwhere we stopped for some refreshment, and to rest ourselves. The\nnext day we were joined by three soldiers, who said they would take\nus across the fields to Gosport; but when they got us into a lonely\nplace, they robbed us of our watches and all our money. This was\nthe beginning of our sorrows, and we began to repent of our folly;\nbut we did not like to go back home. As we were walking up and down\na street in Portsmouth, a gentleman came and asked us if we should\nlike to go to sea. I replied I would like nothing better. He gave\nus five shillings each, provided a lodging for us, and the next\nmorning we went on board ship. We often wished ourselves at home,\nbut it was no use; so, after sending a letter to father, to let him\nknow what was become of us, we set sail. After cruizing about the\nchannel for some months, we fell in with the Dutch off Camperdown.\nThis was the first battle I ever fought; and it was a desperate one.\nMany a stream of English blood flowed that day; and, just as we were\nhailing victory, a spent shot struck my poor brother George (his\nvoice faltering as he spoke), who was standing by my side; he fell;\nwe carried him down to the cockpit, when he took me by the hand, and\nsaid, '_Farewell, brother! I am dying_. _Give my love to mother,\nand father, and sister, and tell them that I die in the arms of\nvictory._' He scarcely finished the words before he heaved a dismal\ngroan, and died. The shouts of victory gave me no pleasure; for I\nhad lost my brother. Poor fellow, he was thrown overboard the same\nday; and many a tear was shed, Sir, as we let him down, for he was\nmuch liked by the crew.\"\n\n\"What ship,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"were you on board of?\"\n\n\"The _Venerable_, please your honour; Admiral Duncan's ship.\"\n\n\"Did you know Covey, who was wounded in that engagement?\"\n\n\"Yes, please your honour; I was on deck when he fell. He was as\nbrave a fellow as ever fought; and he was as generous as he was\nbrave.\"\n\n\"But was he not very wicked?\"\n\n\"He was a good sailor, please your honour, and he was generous to\na proverb; but he had no sense of religion, though at times, I\nbelieve, he suffered much in his conscience.\"\n\n\"Do you know what became of him?\"\n\n\"I have heard that he was sent to Haslar hospital after he left the\n_Venerable_, and I suppose he died there; and there, I suppose, he\nwas buried. God rest his soul!\"\n\nMr. Stevens rose and left the room, but soon returned with the\ntract which gives such an interesting account of Covey. He read\nsome passages from it, and while he was reading, I watched the\ncountenance of the sailor, which betrayed alternately symptoms of\nastonishment, of joy, and of the deepest solemnity.\n\n\"I am right glad,\" said the honest tar, \"to hear that my old\nshipmate is got safe into such a port. He had a roughish voyage; but\nthe storm is over; and from that account,[2] he is now safe landed.\"\n\n  [2] Covey was one of the bravest of the brave, and as wicked as he\n  was brave. Mr. Pratt, in the second volume of his _Gleanings_, gives\n  us the following account of him:--\n\n  As the two fleets were coming into action, the noble admiral,\n  to save the lives of his men, ordered them to lie flat on the\n  deck, till, being nearer the enemy, their firing might do the\n  more execution. The Dutch ships at this time were pouring their\n  broadsides into the _Venerable_ as she passed down part of the Dutch\n  fleet, in order to break their line. This stout-hearted and wicked\n  Covey, heaped in rapid succession the most dreadful imprecations\n  on the eyes, and limbs, and souls of what he called his cowardly\n  shipmates, for lying down to avoid the balls of the Dutch. He\n  refused to obey the order, till, fearing the authority of an officer\n  not far from him, he in part complied, by leaning over a cask which\n  stood near, till the word of command was given to fire. At the\n  moment of rising, a bar-shot carried away one of his legs, and the\n  greater part of the other; but so instantaneous was the stroke,\n  though he was sensible of something like a jar in his limbs, he\n  knew not that he had lost a leg till his stump came to the deck,\n  and he fell. He was sent home to Haslar hospital, with many others;\n  and soon after he left it, he went on a Sabbath evening to Orange\n  Street Chapel, Portsea, where he heard the Rev. Mr. Griffin preach\n  from Mark v. 15. \"He listened,\" says his biographer, \"with attention\n  and surprise, wondering how the minister should know him among so\n  many hundred people; or who could have told him his character and\n  state of mind. This astonishment was still more increased when he\n  found him describe, as he thought, the whole of his life, and even\n  his secret sins. Some weeks after this,\" says Mr. Griffin, \"he\n  called and related to me the whole of his history and experience.\n  He was surprised to find that I had never received any information\n  about him at the time the sermon was preached which so exactly met\n  his case. Something more than twelve months after this time he was\n  received a member of our church, having given satisfactory evidences\n  of being a genuine and consistent Christian. A few weeks since,\n  hearing he was ill, I went to visit him. When I entered his room, he\n  said, 'Come in, thou man of God! I have been longing to see you, and\n  to tell you the happy state of my mind. I believe I shall soon die;\n  but death now has no terrors in it. The sting of death is sin; but,\n  thanks be to God, he has given me the victory through Jesus Christ.\n  I am going to heaven! O! what has Jesus done for me, one of the\n  vilest sinners of the human race.' A little before he died, when he\n  thought himself within a few hours of dissolution, he said, 'I have\n  often thought it was a hard thing to die, but now I find it a very\n  easy thing to die. The presence of Christ makes it easy. The joy I\n  feel from a sense of the love of God to sinners, from the thought of\n  being with the Saviour, of being free from a sinful heart, and of\n  enjoying the presence of God for ever, is more than I can express!\n  O! how different my thoughts of God, and of myself, and of another\n  world, from what they were when I lost my precious limbs on board\n  the _Venerable_! It was a precious loss to me! If I had not lost my\n  legs, I should perhaps have lost my soul.' With elevated and clasped\n  hands, and with eyes glistening with earnestness, through the tears\n  which flowed down his face, he said, 'O, my dear minister! I pray\n  you, when I am dead, to preach a funeral sermon for a poor sailor;\n  and tell others, especially sailors, who are as ignorant and wicked\n  as I was, that poor blaspheming Covey found mercy with God, through\n  faith in the blood of Christ! Tell them, that since I have found\n  mercy, none that seek it need to despair. You know better than I do\n  what to say to them. But, O! be in earnest with them; and may the\n  Lord grant that my wicked neighbours and fellow-sailors may find\n  mercy as well as Covey!' He said much more; but the last words he\n  uttered were, 'Hallelujah! hallelujah!'\"\n\n\"There is no refuge from the storm but in Jesus Christ,\" said Mr.\nStevens.\n\n\"Ah, there is no getting into the port of heaven but through Christ;\nthis I have known for many years; but it han't done me much good;\nbut I hope it will.\"\n\n\"Have you now left the navy?\"\n\n\"Yes, and please your honour. I was wounded at the battle of\nTrafalgar, when our Nelson died; and I was sent home, along with\nmany others, to the hospital. After I left the hospital, I went back\nto sea, but I got my discharge a little more than two months ago.\nHere it is, and please your honour.\"\n\n\"Where have you been since you got your discharge?\"\n\n\"I went home to Horningsham as fast as I could travel, to see my\nfather, and mother, and sister; for I had not seen them for many\nyears. I got there about five o'clock in the evening, and when I\nopened the door, I saw a stranger sitting in the chimney-corner,\nwho turned out to be my brother-in-law; but poor sister Susan was\ndead. I was afraid to ask about father, for I began to think that\ndeath had been on board, and capsized all of them. I saw his stick\nhanging over the mantle-piece; and after a while (tears falling\nas he spoke), I asked if he were alive. 'No, William,' said my\nbrother-in-law, 'your father has been dead five years.' 'Is mother\nalive?' 'She is alive, but I fear she won't live till the morning.'\n'Then I'll put on shore, and see her before she goes down.' So I\nwent up stairs, and as soon as mother saw me, she knew me, and she\nwept for joy to see me back; and as soon as she had given me a\nsalute, she asked if brother George were living; and when I told her\nof his death, she wept again, but they were not tears of joy. She\ndied in about three hours after I got home; and I staid there a few\nweeks after she was buried, but the place being deserted by those I\nloved, I made up my mind to slip my cable and sheer off. I couldn't\nlay at anchor in such a deserted port.\"\n\n\"Was you with your mother when she died?\"\n\n\"Yes, and please your honour; I hove to as soon as I saw her, and I\ndid not leave her until she went down.\"\n\n\"How did she die?\"\n\n\"Just in the same way as I hope to die, when it pleases God to call\nme. She said, 'William, I am now going to heaven, and I hope you\nwill follow me.'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"I hope you will; but what do you intend\nto do for a livelihood?\"\n\n\"Why, please your honour, I don't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Can you work in a garden?\"\n\n\"I think I can, and I'm willing to try. I used, when a lad, to work\nin the Marquis of Bath's garden, along with my father, and I have\nnot quite forgot what he learned me.\"\n\nMr. Stevens, being in want of an under-gardener, took the sailor\ninto his service, and he long remained with him, a very faithful and\nindustrious servant; an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile.\n\nAfter the sailor left the parlour, Mr. Lewellin remarked, that the\nadaptation of the gospel to man, of every order of intellect, of\nevery shade and complexion of character, of every age and of every\ncountry, was to him a most decisive evidence of its Divine origin.\nHad it been a human invention it would have been incumbered with\nsome local or national customs, and hence it would have discovered\nsome radical defect; but instead of this, the closer it is examined\nthe more its adaptation to the moral condition of humanity is\nperceived; its rites are such as all may practise; its precepts\nare as suited to an Asiatic or an African as to an European; and\nits leading fact, \"_that Christ Jesus came into the world to save\nsinners_,\" is \"_worthy of all acceptation_.\"\n\n\"As you have so recently left the ranks of infidelity,\" said Mr.\nStevens, \"let me ask you--Are infidels in general sincere in the\nopposition which they make to Christianity?\"\n\n\"They are as sincere as a criminal would be in his efforts to\nprevent the judge entering the court; but, in general, they have a\nstrong impression that their opposition will be useless.\"\n\n\"I see that I have not given my question precisely that form of\nmeaning which I intended. Do you think that they really disbelieve\nthe truth of Christianity?\"\n\n\"We have many in this country, as there are many in all other\ncountries, who are as ignorant of the nature and design of the\nChristian faith as they are of the science of astronomy or of\nmedicine, and they disbelieve it, if it be proper to say a thing\ncan be disbelieved which is not known; but I do not think that any\nreally disbelieve it who have received a proper religious training.\nThey will, when together, cheer up each others' spirits, and affect\ncontempt for the religion of the Bible; but I have seen a whole\ncompany disconcerted by a clap of thunder, and retire, not to enjoy\nthe pleasures of reflection, but, if I may judge from what I have\nfelt, to writhe beneath the agonies of anticipation.\"\n\n\"Do you know if your conversion to the Christian faith produced any\ngood effect on any of your former associates?\"\n\n\"I recollect on one occasion, when several of us were spending a\nSabbath evening in an hotel, after I had delivered a speech at some\nlength in favour of Deism, and against Christianity, I was so much\napplauded, that they clapped me, and said, 'Well, Lewellin, _if\nyou ever turn, there must be something in it_.' After I did turn,\nor rather _after I was turned_, the majority reproached me as a\nhypocritical fanatic; but one came and congratulated me on having\nescaped the destructive snare in which he was entangled; but added,\n'My doom is irrevocably fixed, and it would be only an aggravation\nof my misery to indulge a hope of salvation.' Poor fellow! he was\nhurried on, even against the strong convictions of his judgment,\nand the reproaches of his conscience, through almost every scene\nof dissipation, till at length the strong arm of death stopped his\nprogress. As soon as I heard of his illness, I went to see him. I\nnever shall forget the interview. It brought to my recollection my\nown state of misery, when the terrors of the eternal world, like\nthe vivid lightning, were playing around my distracted spirit. On\nentering his room, he endeavoured to avoid seeing me, by concealing\nhis face under the bed-clothes. I approached his bedside, and\nspoke, but he was dumb with silence. I endeavoured to rouse him by\nthe kindest expressions of friendship, and at length he uncovered\nhis horror-struck countenance, and said (as nearly as I can\nremember), 'I don't doubt your kindness; it is indelibly impressed\non my callous heart. But why come to torment me? The _damned_ cannot\nbe _saved_!' 'But,' I added, 'the _chief of sinners_ may.' 'Not\nafter their doom is fixed. I have passed the line which divides the\nsaved from the lost; and I cannot retrace my steps.' 'But,----'\n'But, Sir,' interrupting me, 'excuse my abruptness; I feel as though\nI were now riding on the elements of woe; the voice of peace I\ncannot hear. My soul is in a whirlwind of despair! The storm will\nne'er subside! The clouds of the Divine displeasure are highly\ncharged; they are gathering blackness! and soon--yes, I feel death\nnow creeping up to strike my heart!--soon, very soon I shall be cast\ninto outer darkness!' 'But,----' 'But spare me!' 'But, do listen--_I\nmay_ be the means of distilling consolation; for I have suffered\nall you now suffer, and yet have obtained mercy.' 'Yes, _you_ have,\nand I am glad of it for your sake; but that feeling aggravates my\nagony. Distil consolation! Yes, you may; but every avenue of my\nsoul is filled up with anguish; it cannot enter. Tell me not of a\nSaviour, for I have slighted him! Tell me not of his compassion, for\nI have made it a subject of ridicule! Tell me not of heaven, for I\nshall soon see it, but at an immeasurable distance! Death is come,\nmy heartstrings are breaking! I lie down in misery, to rise----' He\ncould add no more. I left him in the agonies of despair, and soon\nafter he died.\"\n\n\"How awful!\" exclaimed Mrs. Stevens; \"was it not too much for your\nfeelings?\"\n\n\"Too much!\" replied Lewellin, deeply affected, \"I scarcely knew\nhow to remain, or how to move; and, had it not been for the nurse,\nwho entered the room just at this crisis, I think that I should\nhave sunk. It has left a horrifying impression on my mind, which\nreflection increases; for he was the only son of a pious father,\nwho was ignorant of his character till he came up from the country\nto attend his funeral. The good man waited on me before the rites\nof sepulture were performed; and though I suppressed the strong\ndescriptive language of his son, yet it was not in my power to\nalleviate his fears. He wept aloud. He paced backwards and forwards\nin my room, like a man bereft of his senses. '_Had I lost my\nproperty, I had merely lost what will melt in the general burning;\nbut I have lost my child, who will never see----. Woe is me!_' I\nwent to see the good man a few months ago, but his countenance has\nnever since worn a smile--his food is the wormwood, and his drink\nthe gall.\"\n\n\"What anguish,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"does an irreligious child often\ninflict in a parent's breast! I have often grieved because I have\nnot had a family, but I am sure that I shall never grieve again.\"\n\nI now observed: God often employs the religious education of\nchildren as the means of their conversion; but when they leave their\nfather's house, if they are not placed in a pious family, they often\nturn out the most depraved. Hence we derive an argument for our\nencouragement, to train them up in the nurture and admonition of the\nLord; and also a beacon to warn us of the danger to which we expose\nthem, when we introduce them into situations where they are under\nno religious control. This good man demands our pity; but, perhaps,\nif we knew the whole history of his conduct to his child, we should\nbe disposed to blame him. And what a warning is this fact to the\nyouth who has received a religious training. He may indulge himself\nin a course of sin, but conscience will rebuke him; he may suppose\nthat his father is ignorant of his conduct, but he cannot conceal\nhimself from the eye of God; and he may presume on a future day for\nrepentance, but that day may be a day of darkness, of lamentation,\nand of woe.\n\n\"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in\nthe days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in\nthe sight of thine eyes; but know thou, that for all these things\nGod will bring thee into judgment.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE RECTOR OF BROADHURST.\n\n\n\"My dear,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"here is an invitation from the Rev.\nMr. Ingleby, requesting us and our visitors to take tea at the\nrectory to-morrow evening, when he will introduce us to the Rev. Mr.\nGuion; and as we have no engagement, I presume I may send an answer\nin the affirmative.\"\n\n\"Most certainly,\" said Mrs. Stevens; \"to meet Mr. Ingleby and Mr.\nGuion together will be a great treat; they are both men of superior\nintelligence and piety, and of great conversational powers.\"\n\n\"I do not know Mr. Guion,\" I remarked, \"but I have a very high\nopinion of Mr. Ingleby; he breathes a fine catholic spirit, and\npreaches the gospel with great simplicity, purity, and power.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"I know a few who excel our venerable\nfriend in some separate ministerial qualifications and attainments;\nbut in that rare union of excellencies which meet in him, he\nstands, in my opinion, unrivalled. He has a voice which is clear\nand powerful, his action is natural, he commands attention, and\nhe always rewards it; for, by an extraordinary aptness of manner,\nhe compels his hearers to believe that he is addressing them\nindividually. And I have often been astonished by the extraordinary\nfertility of his mind; for while he is perpetually exhibiting\nthe _same truths_, the modes of their exhibition are perpetually\nvarying; his arguments, if they are not always new, yet they are\nalways put in a new form; and his figures of illustration, which\nare beautifully chaste, have, if I may use such an expression, the\nfreshness and fragrance of novelty upon them.\"\n\n\"But, after all,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"much as I admire him when\nhe is in the pulpit, it is in the parlour and in the walks of\nprivate life that he unconsciously unfolds the _entire_ of his real\ncharacter. He appears more amiable and lovely in the undress of\nsocial intimacy, than when attired in the costume of his order. In\nmy opinion, he approaches nearer the perfect and upright man of the\nBible than any clergyman I know.\"\n\nI had heard much of Mr. Ingleby since I had been a visitor at\nFairmount, and I now looked forward with great pleasure to the\nprospect of being more fully acquainted with him. I shall here\nintroduce some particulars of his history, much of which I\nafterwards learned.\n\nOn his leaving college, where he was greatly beloved by those who\nwere admitted into his intimacy, Mr. Ingleby went into Yorkshire,\nand took the curacy of a country parish; and there he exhibited\nin faint miniature the fine character which, in after-life, he\nmore clearly and broadly developed. To this spiritual cure he was\nmuch attached; and it is probable that he would have continued in\nit, but he married a niece of the gentleman who had the living of\nBroadhurst in his gift, and who presented it to him on the day of\nhis marriage. To this living he was inducted in the year 1796; and\nthough he subsequently had several offers of preferment, yet he\ndeclined them, preferring contentment and the affectionate regards\nof the attached and devoted people amongst whom he laboured, to the\ngreater honours and emoluments which were held out to him. When he\ncommenced his ministerial labours, he found the church in a most\ndilapidated condition; its steeple had fallen; its walls were rent\nin several parts, and overgrown with rank vegetation; the rain oozed\nthrough its roof; the grass had grown high on every walk which led\nto its antique doors; and though the face of the clock was partly\nvisible, the clock itself had long ceased to tell the hours. Almost\nthe whole parish was living in a state of absolute ignorance and\nmoral barbarism. His heart sunk within him as he surveyed the moral\nwaste which he was appointed to cultivate; but recollecting that\nhe was not appointed to labour in his own strength, he resolved\nto consecrate his life to its improvement. Having formed this\nresolution, no offer, however flattering, could for a moment shake\nit. The first thing he attempted was, not to raise the tithes,\nwhich he knew would inflame the prejudices of the people against\nhim, but to get the church repaired. He called a meeting of the\nparishioners, stated his wish, and urged them, in such a mild and\npersuasive manner, to comply with it, that the utmost degree of\nunanimity prevailed; and they retired congratulating each other on\nthe residence of a clergyman amongst them who seemed to manifest a\nconcern for their spiritual welfare. Though the parsonage house was,\nif possible, in a more dilapidated state than the church, yet he\nprudently declined alluding to it, which gave a few of the leading\nmen such a high idea of his disinterestedness, that they called\nanother meeting, and resolved that the house and the church should\nbe repaired at the same time. When the church, thoroughly repaired,\nwas reopened for divine worship, there was such a concourse of\nattendants that it was not large enough to contain them. The clerk,\nwho had grown old in the service, having repeated the _Amen_ within\nits walls for nearly half a century, said to his rector, while he\nwas assisting him in putting on his sacred vestments, \"There is\na main lot of people come, Sir, to see our beautiful church; one\nshould almost think that the dead had got leave to come out of their\ngraves to see it.\"\n\n[Illustration:\n\nDRAWN BY S. READ.      ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS.\n\nTHE CHURCH OF THE NEGLECTED PARISH.\n\nVol. i. page 66.]\n\nIt was with some difficulty that Mr. Ingleby could get to the\ndesk; and when he commenced the service, instead of reading the\nprayers, like his predecessors, in a hurried and irreverent manner,\nthere was so much gravity in his appearance, so much solemnity\nin his deportment, and such a clearness and impressiveness in\nhis enunciation, that the whole congregation were astonished and\ndelighted. But it was in the pulpit, where he had to proclaim the\nglad tidings of salvation, that he commanded most attention, and\nexcited the deepest interest. He selected for the occasion the\nmemorable words of St. Paul, \"_For I am determined not to know\nanything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified_\" (1\nCor. ii. 2). After dwelling some time on the death of Christ, and\nits grand design, he said, \"My brethren, I am appointed to labour\namongst you; and I have now informed you what will be the principal\nsubject of my ministrations. I shall preach Christ; and can I preach\non any subject so important? As you are sinners, involved in a\nstate of degeneracy, guilt, and condemnation, you need a Saviour who\nis able to absolve you from your guilt, and bring you into a state\nof reconciliation with God, and save you from the wrath to come.\nSuch a Saviour I now proclaim to you; a Saviour who is able to save\nto the uttermost all that come to God by him, seeing he ever liveth\nto make intercession for them. On the merit of his obedience and\ndeath you must rely for pardon and eternal life; and I beseech you\nto renounce at once every other object of dependence, and come to\nhim, by faith, with broken hearts and contrite spirits, and he will\nsave you.\"\n\nThis sermon produced a powerful impression, particularly the\nfollowing very simple illustrative argument:--\"If a man, whose\ntongue is cleaving to the roof of his mouth, were to put this\nquestion to me--Will a draught of pure water quench my thirst? I\nshould very naturally say--_Try it._ Or if a man, when standing on a\nwreck, should ask me--Will your life-boat take me in safety through\nthis fearful storm? instead of philosophizing on the causes of\nstorms, or on the art of boat-building, I should say--_Jump in, Sir,\nand try it._ And I have the same reply to make to you, who may feel\ndisposed to ask me if coming to Jesus Christ to save you will make\nyou happy--_Try it._ Thousands and millions have made the trial, and\nfound it a successful one; and now I say to each one of you--_Try\nit._\"\n\nThis style of bold, yet simple address, was as novel amongst the\npeople as it was impressive; it commanded and secured attention;\nand it was evident to all that the preacher was in earnest, for he\nspake as one having authority. Some were delighted with the sermon,\nand said that they had never seen the truth in such a clear light\nbefore, and that they had never before felt it operate so powerfully\non their minds; and after the service was over, they lingered about\nthe church, as though they were unwilling to leave the place in\nwhich they had been listening, with so much pleasure, to the glad\ntidings of salvation. But there were a few of the _more respectable\npart of the people_ who were offended, and who did not hesitate to\nsay, that if morality was to be excluded from the pulpit, to admit\nof the introduction of this evangelical style of preaching, they\nshould decline attending the church. In the course of the week Mr.\nIngleby received a letter from Mr. Porteous, a county magistrate, of\nwhich I afterwards obtained a copy, and also of his reply. I here\nintroduce them as curiosities:--\n\n\"REVEREND SIR,--I was not a little delighted and astonished on\nSunday last; I was delighted with your very eloquent manner of\nreading our incomparable Liturgy; but I was astonished by the _very\nunguarded expressions which you made use of in your sermon_. You\nsaid, if my memory serves me, 'good works have nothing to do with\nour salvation--that if we are saved, it must be by faith in Christ\ncrucified.' _Now, if our good works have nothing to do with our\nsalvation, shall we not abstain from performing them?_ I need not,\nI am sure, to a gentleman of your learning, point out the dangerous\nconsequences which must result to the interests of morality from\nsuch sentiments; but considering that you have been so much engaged\nin attending to the repairs of the church, etc., I can very easily\nbelieve, from your habit of preaching extempore, that you let fall\nmany expressions which, on mature consideration, you will condemn\nas unequivocally as I do. You will excuse the liberty which I have\ntaken in offering these remarks, _but as the morals of the people\nare somewhat under my supervision, I could not remain silent when\nI apprehended danger_. Assuring you, Reverend Sir, that I have a\ngreat esteem for the clergy, and, as you are appointed our rector, I\nshall be happy to see you at my mansion, and wishing you health and\nhappiness among us--I am, Reverend Sir, your obedient servant,\n\n  \"J. P.\"\n\nMr. Ingleby's reply:--\n\n\"DEAR SIR,--I received yours of the 10th, and I presume that a reply\nis expected. I did say, in the course of my sermon, that good works\nwould never merit the forgiveness of our sins, nor procure for us\na state of final happiness. And I did say that we must be saved,\nif we are ever saved, by faith in Jesus Christ. I did state, most\nexpressly, that the obedience and death of Jesus Christ constitute\nthe only meritorious cause of our eternal salvation. And if you\nread the following passages of Scripture, you will perceive that I\nam correct:--'But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss\nfor Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the\nexcellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I\nhave suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung,\nthat I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own\nrighteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the\nfaith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith' (Phil.\niii. 7-9). 'For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of\nyourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should\nboast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good\nworks, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them'\n(Ephesians ii. 8-10).\n\n\"And, further, if you consult the Eleventh Article of our church\nyou will find that I advanced no new doctrine:--'We are counted\nrighteous before God only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour\nJesus Christ, by faith, and not by our own works or deservings:\nwherefore, that we are justified by faith only is a most wholesome\ndoctrine, and very full of comfort, as more largely is expressed in\nthe _Homily of Justification_.'\n\n\"When these doctrines are preached with simplicity and earnestness\namong a people who have not been accustomed to hear them, it is no\nunusual thing for some to imagine that they will be followed by\nthe most dangerous results; but if you will only wait to see their\npractical influence, you will be convinced that they will _incline_,\nas well as teach men, to 'deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and\nto live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world.'\nAssuring you that I am not offended by your free communication,\nand that I shall be happy to avail myself of your very friendly\ninvitation--I am, yours truly,\n\n  \"J. I.\"\n\nThe church, which in former times had been almost \"as drear as\nthe mansions of the dead,\" was now crowded to excess; the people\nflocked to it from all the adjacent parishes, and many, who came to\nscoff, returned to pray. A visible change soon took place in their\nhabits; the drunkard became sober, the Sabbath-breaker visited the\nhouse of prayer, the village games were exchanged for the hallowed\nexercises of devotion, and the moral desert displayed the beauties\nof holiness. When it was found that these effects were the result\nof his ministry, though the spirit of scepticism, which often lurks\nunder a profession of religion, could not be conciliated, yet its\nopen hostility ceased, and the amiable and zealous rector was\nallowed to pursue the even tenor of his way, beloved by the pious,\nand respected by the profane.\n\nBut he was not more attentive to the duties of his office than to\nthe virtues of his private character. What he enforced on others,\nhe himself practised; what he inculcated from the pulpit, he\nexemplified in his family. There religion unfolded her sweetest\ncharms, and sent forth an influence which operated with resistless\nforce on every inmate in his house; and as his wife was endowed\nwith an unusual share of prudence, she became indeed an help\nmeet for him. She involved him in no pecuniary embarrassments\nby the extravagance of her habits; occasioned no discord by the\nofficiousness or bitterness of her temper; but by managing his\ntemporal affairs with discretion, left him more at liberty to devote\nhimself to the duties of his sacred avocation.\n\nThe rector of Broadhurst was instant in season and out of season,\nserving the Lord, and his labours were blessed in the conversion\nof not a few of his parishioners. His earnestness in the work of\nthe ministry, his evangelical preaching, and his popularity with\nthe common people, stirred up the jealousy and opposition of the\nneighbouring clergy, who were preachers of morality, but not of\nthe gospel. Some of them even went so far as to denounce him from\nthe pulpit as a fanatical devotee, who was disturbing the peace of\nsociety, and ought to be expelled from the church.\n\nNone were more severe in their remarks, or more determined in\ntheir opposition, than the Rev. Mr. Guion, the rector of Norton.\nThis clergyman had passed through the University of Oxford with\ngreat _eclat_, was a most accomplished scholar, possessed of a very\nsuperior understanding, an admirer of polite literature in all its\nbranches, and inherited a large fortune which his father bequeathed\nhim; but when he entered on the discharge of his sacred functions\nhe was an entire stranger _to the power of vital religion_. His\nzeal for the church burnt with an ardent, if not a pure flame,\nwhich led him to look with supercilious contempt on all whom he\ndeemed innovators; his reverence for the consistency of the clerical\ncharacter preserved him from the vices and follies in which too many\nindulge; and the independent tone of his mind induced him to compose\nhis own discourses, rather than read those which were composed by\nothers. By the rich he was admired for the elegance of his manners,\nby the intelligent for the extent and variety of his knowledge, and\nby the poor for his profuse benevolence. On his settlement at Norton\nhe called on Mr. Ingleby, but finding that he was (what the world\ncalls) a Methodist, he declined an intimacy, and they rarely met,\nexcept on public occasions.\n\nMr. Ingleby having been appointed to preach a visitation sermon,\nMr. Guion and several other clergymen amused themselves with the\nprospect of hearing an enthusiastic and unintelligible discourse.\nHe chose his text from Isaiah lii. 11: \"Be ye clean that bear the\nvessels of the Lord.\" After a few introductory remarks, he said that\nthe ministers of religion ought to be men of piety towards God, and\nof purity in the sight of men; and as they are intrusted with the\ntruths of revelation, they ought to proclaim them with impassioned\nardour. Having been favoured with a sight of this manuscript sermon,\nI have taken a few extracts from it:--\n\n\"As, my brethren, the ulterior design of our public ministry is\nto recover sinners from their apostasy from God, into a state of\nfellowship with him, ought we not ourselves to live in an habitual\ncontemplation of his excellencies, and in the exercise of spiritual\ncommunion with him? Ought we not to rise above the mere forms and\nceremonies of devotion, into that immediate intercourse with the\nHoly One which the Scriptures describe by the appropriate phrase of\n'walking with God?' May we not fairly presume that such an hallowed\nexercise will have a most material influence in inducing within us\nthat pure and ardent spirit of devotion, without which the duties\nof our sacred profession will be discharged in a cold, formal,\nand unimpressive manner? And can we expect to shed the lustre of\npiety around us unless we are imbued with its spirit, by a constant\nassociation with Him who alone can infuse it into the mind, and keep\nit from a state of relaxation and decay?\n\n\"It has been remarked that the copy which the rest of mankind write\nafter should be remarkably correct. Hence the exhortation which St.\nPaul addressed to Timothy is strictly applicable to each of us:\n'Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation,\nin charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity' (1 Tim. iv. 12).\nThe apology which has sometimes been offered for ministerial\nirregularity cannot be admitted--'Do as we say, but not as we do;'\nfor is not example more powerful than precept? If the priest be\nprofane, will not the people abhor the sacrifice? If we addict\nourselves to the vices of the age, can we warn the people against\nthem with any hope of success? If we follow the amusements and\ndiversions of this world, will they believe that we are in earnest\nwhen we exhort them to abstain _from the appearance of evil_? If we\nsecularize our habits, enter with spirit into the intrigues of the\npolitician, and discover a restless ambition to reach the summit of\nhuman fame, will they give us credit for being sincere, if we exhort\nthem, as we ought to do, _to set their affections on things above,\nand not on things on the earth_?\n\n\"In the discharge of your public functions, I would recommend you\nto press upon the attention of your hearers those truths which\nbelong to the great scheme of redemption, the lost and helpless\nstate of man, salvation by the free grace of God, justification and\nacceptance through the righteousness of Jesus Christ, the necessity\nof the new birth, and of the enlightening and purifying operations\nof the Holy Ghost. These doctrines, which are expressed with so\nmuch clearness in the Articles of our church, are the essence and\nglory of that gospel which we are commissioned to preach; and though\nthey are rejected by many as the corruptions of Christianity, yet I\npresume that you will contend for them as the faith which you are to\ndeliver for the conversion of sinners and the edification of saints.\nIf these truths are rejected because they are evangelical, and the\nmore fashionable doctrine of a sincere though imperfect obedience,\ncombined with a submission to a prescribed formula of religion,\nwhich leaves the heart unrenewed, be substituted in their room, we\nmay gain the applause of those who trust in themselves that they\nare righteous, but we shall be guilty of an awful departure from\nthe spirit and the design of our commission, and justly incur the\ndispleasure of Jesus Christ.\n\n\"To conclude: the hour is rapidly approaching when we, who are\nappointed as the stewards of the mysteries of the kingdom, shall be\nsummoned into the presence of our invisible Lord, to give an account\nof our stewardship, when the motives which induced us to take upon\nourselves the priest's office and which induced us to retain it, the\nmanner in which we have spent our time, employed our influence and\nour wealth, and conducted the public solemnities of religion, will\nundergo a close and a severe investigation; and if we, the ministers\nof the sanctuary, should, when weighed in the balance, be found\nwanting, how awful will be our doom! Ezek. xxiii. 7, 8.\n\n\"Happy, thrice happy that minister who, amidst all his infirmities,\nwill be able to give up his account with joy; but woe, woe, woe to\nus if we be found unfaithful!\"\n\nThis sermon produced a very considerable effect on the audience,\nbut no one was more deeply affected by it than Mr. Guion. He\nlistened with profound attention, and though he mustered all his\nprejudices against the preacher, and endeavoured to avoid the force\nof his solemn appeals, yet he was _not able to resist the wisdom\nand the spirit by which he spake_. After the service was concluded\nhe retired to meditate on what he had heard, but his mind was too\ndeeply wounded to admit of calm meditation. His personal guilt,\nhis danger, his ministerial infidelity, his dishonoured Lord, the\nfuture judgment passed in review before his mind, greatly agitating\nhis feelings; and being unconscious of the immediate cause and\ndesign of this extraordinary mental excitement, he knew not where\nto obtain relief. As the Sabbath approached he attempted, as usual,\nto compose a sermon, but after poring over the text on which he had\nfixed, he abandoned it, because he could not understand it. He then\nselected another, then another, then another, till, in despair, he\nresolved that he would not make a fresh effort till his mind was\nmore composed. \"I'll preach,\" said he, \"an old sermon,\" but he could\nnot find one that he could preach. At length he took a volume of\nsermons from off one of the shelves of his library, and seeing one\non these words, \"Turn you to the stronghold, ye prisoners of hope:\neven to-day do I declare that I will render double unto thee\" (Zech.\nix. 12), he transcribed it. The following paragraph, when he read\nit from the pulpit, darted a ray of light across his mind, but he\nwas not then able to discover the truth which it so beautifully\nexhibits: \"You who are lying in the prison of an unconverted state,\ncome hither to this sanctuary, whose gates stand open to receive\nyou. 'It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that\nChrist Jesus came into the world to save sinners.' He hath shed that\nblood which 'cleanseth from all sin,' and hath sealed that gracious\nand well-ordered covenant which offers pardon and eternal life to\nevery penitent believing sinner. And now all things are ready for\nyour reception; the Father is ready to embrace you, Christ is ready\nto wash you in his blood, the Spirit is ready to heal your diseased\nnatures, angels are ready to rejoice at your return, and we, as the\nservants of this King of Zion, are ready to welcome you into this\nfamily of God, and do now exhort you, and pray you, in Christ's\nstead, 'to flee for refuge, to lay hold on the hope set before you.'\"\n\nOn the next Tuesday he rode over to Broadhurst, and heard Mr.\nIngleby preach his evening lecture, but contrived to return without\nbeing seen. He now felt conscious that Mr. Ingleby was qualified\nto become his religious instructor, and therefore resolved to\nopen a correspondence with him, which he did by writing to him as\nfollows:--\n\n\"REV. AND DEAR SIR,--The sermon which I had the honour of hearing\nyou deliver at your visitation, has made such a deep impression on\nmy mind, that I have been uneasy ever since. It has stripped me of\nall my imaginary excellence, destroyed the foundation on which I was\nbuilding my hope of future happiness, convinced me of my personal\nguilt and degeneracy, rendered me unfit to discharge the functions\nof my sacred office, and thrown my feelings into such a perturbed\nstate, that I know not how to calm them, nor how to bear up under\nthem. As you have been the means of inflicting the wound, probably\nyou can administer some consolation; and, if you will permit me, I\nwill ride over and avail myself of the honour and felicity of an\ninterview. A reply by the bearer will greatly oblige, yours truly,\n\n  \"OLIVER GUION.\"\n\nThe interview took place as proposed, and from that hour to the\npresent, these two laborious ministers of Jesus Christ have lived in\nthe uninterrupted enjoyment of Christian fellowship, animating each\nother in their sacred work, and, by uniting their influence, have\nsucceeded in diffusing the leaven of truth through the greater part\nof their extensive parishes.\n\n\n\n\nA VISIT TO THE RECTORY.\n\n\nWe reached the rectory early in the afternoon, and found the\nvenerable rector waiting our arrival. There was, in the manner and\nstyle of our reception, a fine blending of dignity with kind and\nbenevolent feeling. In his person he was tall and slender, about\nsixty years of age; his silver locks fell in curls on his shoulders;\nin his countenance there was a marked expression of benignity; and\nhis whole appearance was in keeping with his sacred profession.\nMrs. Ingleby was equally free and easy in her manners, but she\nwas rather reserved; yet it was the reserve of constitutional\ntimidity--_hauteur_ was alien to her nature. After tarrying awhile,\nexamining his cabinet of natural curiosities, selected and arranged\nwith taste and judgment, we adjourned to the moss-house at the\nbottom of the garden, which he had, with his own hand, constructed\nand adorned. It stood on an eminence, which commanded a varied\nand extensive view, while the trees and shrubs which grew around\nscreened us from the observation of others. The sun, which had been\npouring down his scorching beams during the greater part of the\nday, was now gradually descending the western horizon, gilding the\nheavens and the earth with his rays. The birds were warbling their\nevening songs of praise to the Author of their being; the bees were\npressing into their hives with the collected stores of the day; the\nplaintive voice of the turtle-dove fell softly on our ear, which,\nintermingling with the occasional cawing of the rooks, returning to\ntheir young with the fruits of their toil, gave to the evening a\ncharm which the crowded haunts of fashionable life never possessed.\n\nAs we sat, enjoying the interchange of sacred thought and feeling,\nalmost forgetting that we were inhabitants of a world which had\nfallen from an original state of purity and bliss, I observed an\ninteresting-looking stranger advancing towards us; and was informed\nthat it was the Rev. Mr. Guion, of whom I had previously heard.\n\nMr. Guion apologized for not being punctual, and informed us\nthat the fall of his horse was the cause of it. He was welcomed\nby the whole party, and congratulated on his having sustained no\ninjury. Mrs. Ingleby, of course, presided at the tea-table; she was\nelegantly polite, yet so affable that we felt at perfect ease; and\nevery one appeared to enjoy the desultory chit-chat, which was kept\nup with great spirit. At length, when the tea-drinking ceremony was\nover, _conversation_ commenced, according to our uniform custom,\nand, to the astonishment of all, Mrs. Ingleby led off; yet I think\nit was more by accident than design.\n\n\"Strange events happen in the history of life; but I have been\nthinking, while attending to the ceremonies of the table, that if an\nold prophet of Israel had been with us when we took our first cup of\ntea in this moss-house, and if he had predicted that we should live\nto see the present company with us, I should have doubted it.\"\n\n\"Our presence, Madam,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"may be attributed to the\nmoral power of the Christian ministry; that ministry being the\ninstrument in the hands of the Spirit of God, by which he effects\nmoral wonders.\"\n\n\"I had no idea,\" said Mr. Guion, \"when I was going to hear the\nvisitation sermon at Salisbury, that I should come into contact\nwith any other power than the rhapsodies of evangelical enthusiasm.\nSeveral of us were highly amused in anticipation of witnessing some\nstrange outbursts of fanatical sentiment and feeling, uttered in\nsome grotesque terms of enunciation. But my venerable friend had not\nproceeded far in his discourse before I felt compelled to listen\nwith profound attention; what he said was new to me, it went to my\nheart; I was not able, nor yet inclined, to resist the wisdom and\nthe spirit by which he spake.\"\n\n\"And pray, Sir,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"what was the direct effect\nwhich the sermon produced?\"\n\n\"The effect, at the time, was an undefinable effect. I recollect,\nwhen I left the church, and I contrived to leave it without\nintermixing with any of my brother clergymen, I retired to meditate\non what I had heard, but my mind was too deeply agitated to admit\nof calm meditation. My personal guilt, my spiritual danger, my\nministerial unfaithfulness to my dishonoured Lord, and the future\njudgment, alternately convulsed my feelings; and being unconscious\nat the time of the immediate cause or ultimate design of this\nextraordinary mental excitement, I knew not what to do to regain my\naccustomed composure. I could neither read nor pray. I wandered hour\nafter hour to and fro, in a lonely glen; I was in a fearful tumult\nof anxiety and agony of spirit.\n\n\"The gospel,\" said Mr. Ingleby, \"is designated the power of God\nto salvation, and when it comes to the soul dead in trespasses\nand sins, in the demonstrative power of the Spirit, its great\npower is felt; felt to be subduing, at times agonizing, and always\nrenovating. The issue is certain and glorious, its operations are\nthe necessary preparations for eternal salvation.\"\n\n\"I believe,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"you have not many evangelical\nclergymen in these parts.\"\n\n\"Not many, Sir; the generality of our clergy are very excellent men,\nwho mean well, but they are not spiritually enlightened men; and,\nunhappily for themselves and others, this is their great fault, they\nput a Papal construction on the import and design of our sacraments,\nand virtually repudiate the articles to which they have given a\nsolemn assent and consent. My nearest brother clergyman is Mr. Cole,\nthe rector of Aston; he is decidedly and avowedly anti-evangelical;\nhe denounces us as a living curse to our church, and a disgrace\nto our order; but he is a gay man of the world, will shuffle the\ncards, dance at a ball, and visit a theatre, without any sense of\nimpropriety; he rather glories in his shame.\"\n\n\"Their dependence for success in their official labours,\" said\nMr. Lewellin, \"is on the efficacy of the sacraments, and they\nmay be regarded as magicians of a new order, operating on their\ndeluded devotees by a sort of spiritual legerdemain; contrasts to\nthe faithful in Christ Jesus, who execute the ministry which they\nreceive of the Lord Jesus under the sanction and power of the Holy\nGhost; and contrasts as great as between demons and angels of God.\"\n\n\"The Christian ministry,\" said Mr. Ingleby, \"is a life-giving\nministry, and a ministry of great moral power, when it is\nfaithfully executed. It is an institution peculiar to Christianity,\nand admirably adapted to advance the improvement and happiness\nof society. Paganism wraps up the mysteries of her pretended\nrevelations in the folds of an hieroglyphical device, Mahometanism\ndiscourages the people from prying into her origin, and Popery\nconfines the light of revelation within the archives of her temple;\nbut Christianity presents the Sacred Volume to the poor as well\nas to the rich; to the ignorant as well as to the learned; and\nby appointing men to explain and enforce the truth, secures the\nattention of the multitude, who find that it still pleases God, by\nthe foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" replied Mr. Guion, \"but if the ministry throw into the\nshade the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, it ought not to be\ncalled a _Christian ministry_. I preached for the space of four\nyears, and thought I preached well. I took great pains with the\ncomposition of my sermons, but I did not preach the doctrine of\nsalvation by grace through faith. The few who attended my ministry\nwere pleased, but none were converted; and I never heard any of them\nmake the subject of my sermon the topic of conversation, except\nwhen I indulged myself in a satirical attack on the fanatics in the\nchurch and the fanatics out of it.\"\n\n\"I presume,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"that you had no conception, when\nyou were satirizing the fanatics, as you termed them, that you were\nsatirizing those who contend earnestly for the faith.\"\n\n\"O no, Sir! I was ignorant of their sentiments, and my prejudices\nkept me ignorant. I would not read any of their productions. I\noften said that they ought to be driven out of the Establishment,\nbecause I thought they were secretly undermining its foundation,\nand, if allowed to grow into a formidable body, might endanger its\nexistence.\"\n\n\"Did you wish to crush them?\" said Mr. Lewellin.\n\n\"O no; I would have tolerated them as we tolerate the Dissenters,\nbut I would not allow them to disturb the harmony of the church.\"\n\n\"Did you ever think, Sir, of the awful responsibility in which your\nprofession involved you?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; but as I lived a virtuous life, when I did occasionally\nadvert to the day of final decision, I thought I should have a crown\nof glory awarded me. O! how I was deluded; but the delusion has\npassed away; and though I now see defects where I could not discern\nthem before, and feel that I am not worthy to unloose the latchet\nof my Master's shoes, yet I hope, through his free and sovereign\ngrace, that I shall be saved.\"\n\n\"Did your clerical brethren,\" Mr. Stevens inquired, \"express any\nastonishment or displeasure at the change which took place in your\nreligious opinions?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, one, a very amiable and learned man, with whom I had been\ncarrying on a literary correspondence, wrote me a long and rather\nsevere letter. He said that he was astonished that a person of my\ndistinguished reputation should condescend to take up the crude and\nunphilosophical notions of the modern fanatics. Pause, Sir, said\nhe, and think of the fatal step you are taking--a step which, if\nactually taken, will tarnish the lustre of your character, blast\nfor ever all hope of your preferment, and doom you to associate\nthrough life with those whom to shun is a virtue, and esteem a vice.\nI replied to his letter, stated the doctrines which I believed,\nand the reasons why I believed them, and assured him that he was\nlabouring under a powerful misconception, from which I was happily\ndelivered; and concluded by saying, that if it were vile in the\nestimation of my friends to revere and love such men as Newton,\nCecil, Venn, and Ingleby, I was resolved to become viler still. This\nclosed our correspondence.\"\n\nMr. Guion, who was naturally very facetious, amused us with a\ndrollish story about two ladies, on whom he had called in the course\nof his pastoral visits. These were two maiden sisters, who had\nresided together for rather more than half a century, and possessing\nan independent fortune, were persons of considerable consequence\nin the parish. They were now too far advanced in life to take _the\nlead_ in fashion, but they did not _lag far behind_; and though\ntheir opinions on some subjects were regarded as rather antiquated\nby their juvenile friends, yet they were usually treated with very\ngreat respect. They were considered as very religious, _particularly\nso_; and were very devout, when _seen at their devotions_. The\npreparation week was to them a week of very great importance, and\nvery toilsome mental labour; and it is rather remarkable, that\nneither of them had been detained from the sacrament for the space\nof thirty years, _except when they had company_. At the time of Mr.\nGuion's visit, the eldest, Miss Susan, was sitting in the breakfast\nparlour, reading.\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"Good morning, Madam, I hope you are well.\"\n\n_Miss Susan._--\"Indeed, Sir, I am not. I have not been well since\nyou began to preach the new doctrines of the new birth and faith,\nand salvation by grace, which Mr. Ingleby taught you. I wish he had\nbeen on a visit to Jericho, instead of being appointed to preach\nthat visitation sermon. Indeed, Sir, I don't like your preaching\nagainst cards; for, Sir, I never play for money; and _beside, all\nthe money I ever win I give to the poor_. You have driven me and\nmy sister from the church, Sir, and if we are lost, you will have\nto answer for it. And beside, Sir, _I never will believe that God\nwill damn any body_. We were all living, Sir, as peaceably as a\nnestling of birds, till you began your present style of preaching,\nbut now every body has something to say about religion. I am sorry\nto say that religion is getting quite into disrepute, now the common\npeople are becoming religious.\" Miss Susan had not finished the last\nsentence, before Miss Dorothy entered. She was more polite, but\nthere lurked under her politeness a malignancy of disposition which\nher sister did not discover, amidst all her flippant invectives.\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"Well, Sir, I did not expect that you would have\ndone us the honour of a call.\"\n\n\"_Mr. Guion._--\"I wish, Madam, to pay respect to all my\nparishioners.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"Out of the pulpit, I presume.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"Yes, Madam, and in it.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"Surely, Reverend Sir, you are now indulging us\nwith a joke, and I wonder that such a _religious clergyman_ as you\nare can use such a profane weapon.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"I am not aware, Madam, that I ever behaved\ndisrespectfully towards any of my parishioners, when discharging the\npublic duties of my office. If I have, I sincerely regret it, and\nyou would oblige me if you would let me know in what.\"\n\n[Illustration: MR. GUION'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH THE MISSES BROWNJOHN.\n\nVol. i. page 82.]\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"Did you not tell us, Sir, on Trinity Sunday, that\npublicans and harlots were more likely to enter the kingdom of\nheaven than your more righteous hearers? And did you not tell us\nthat we must implore mercy, in terms _equally humiliating_? What was\nthis, Sir, but proclaiming the jubilee of vice and the armistice of\nvirtue?\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"I merely quoted the language of Jesus Christ, which\nhe addressed to the chief priests and elders of Jerusalem, and as\nwe are all sinners, I am at a loss to conceive how any can implore\nmercy but in the same phraseology of speech. The language of our\nchurch, you know, Madam, is very, very appropriate to us all, '_Lord\nhave mercy on us, miserable sinners_.'\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"No, Sir. I am not a miserable sinner. That\nlanguage is only intended for the depraved part of your audience.\"\n\n_Miss Susan._--\"Miserable sinners! Ah! miserable enough. Why, Sir,\nthere is more misery in the parish _now_, than there has been _for\nthe past forty years, put it all together_. I went into the kitchen\nthe other night, and I saw our cook with the Bible on the table,\nweeping as though she had lost her father. And this, Sir, is all\nyour doings; and when I told her she should not go to church any\nmore to be made miserable, she began crying again, and had the\nimpudence to tell me the next morning, that unless she could have\nthe liberty of going to church on a Sunday, that I must provide\nmyself with another servant. So you see, Sir, what misery you are\npropagating among us.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"All pure religion commences in repentance towards\nGod, and can there be repentance without sorrow? And if tears, the\nsigns of sorrow, should be shed, ought this to excite astonishment?\nAnd you will permit me to say, that prohibiting your servant from\nattending church on the Sabbath is neither kind nor equitable. The\nScriptures tell us of some who will not enter the kingdom of heaven\nthemselves, nor suffer them that are entering to go in.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"I see your reference, but feel not its force. And\nas we differ so materially in our religious opinions, I think we\nhad better decline any farther intercourse. You may go, Reverend\nSir, and comfort the miserable, who are crying for mercy, _because\nthey need it_, but you will allow us and our friends to enjoy that\nmental complacency which arises from a full conviction that we\ndischarge our duties to our God and to our neighbour, and this we\ntake as a bright omen of our future destiny. We have no desire to be\ninitiated into the mysteries of your faith, but we do justly, love\nmercy, and walk humbly with our God.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"If we cannot agree on the speculative points of\nreligion, probably we may on its relative duties. And now, ladies,\nyou will allow me to state the ulterior design of my visit. John\nBrown, a very worthy man, who is in the employ of Mr. Rider, fell\ntwo months since from the top of a barley-mow, and broke a leg. He\nis still confined to his bed. He has five children, and his wife\nis on the eve of being again confined. This severe affliction has\nreduced the whole family to a state of extreme distress, and I am\nanxious to procure a little assistance for them.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"They should apply to the parish. We pay our rates,\nand that, you know, Sir, is giving to the poor.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"A gift is a voluntary donation, but paying the parish\nrate is _no gift_, it is a legal compulsion. And besides, this poor\nman has always avoided an application to the parish, and I think\nit is not only our duty, but our interest, to encourage the poor\nto depend on their own resources, and the occasional assistance of\ntheir richer neighbours, rather than force them, by neglect, to have\nresource to the parish rate. There is a high spirit of independence\nin the mind of a poor, honest, industrious man, which keeps him\nfrom making any application to the overseers; but when that spirit\nof independence is broken down by the iron hand of want, and he is\ncompelled to solicit parish relief to save himself from starvation,\nthe repugnance is no longer felt, and then, by withholding a little\ntemporary assistance in time of need, we injure the tone of his\nmoral feelings, and create a family of paupers, who may hang on the\nparish rate all their life.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"If, Sir, you always _reasoned in the pulpit_\nwith, as much correctness as you now _reason out of it_, your more\nrespectable parishioners would not turn their backs on you. I will\nthink of the case of this poor man, and if, after having made\ndue inquiry, we think it a meritorious case, perhaps we may send\nsomething.\"\n\n_Mr. Guion._--\"On the accuracy of my reasoning when in the pulpit\nit would be improper in me to express an opinion, but you will\nallow me to say that it is only _a very small portion_ of the\nrespectable part of my parishioners who have turned their back on\nme. The generality attend the church more regularly, if not more\ndevoutly, than before I commenced my present style of preaching. And\nwho are those who have recently deserted the church? Not those who\nare separated from the spirit and the customs of this world, but\nthose who are lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, who feel\na higher gratification in reading plays and novels than in reading\nthe Sacred Scriptures, in whose families no altar of devotion is\nerected, and who are more disposed to ridicule pure religion when it\nis infused into a living character, than to admire its excellence\nor imitate its example. If I preach contrary to the Scriptures, or\nto the Articles of our church, it will be an easy thing to detect\nme; but if my preaching accord with them, to contemn it will be an\naggravation of guilt, and to desert it will be judging ourselves\nunworthy of eternal life.\"\n\n_Miss Susan._--\"Every tub must stand on its own bottom. You go to\nheaven your way, and we will go ours.\"\n\n_Miss Dorothy._--\"Yes. We are commanded not to be righteous\nover-much. The Deity is pleased when he sees his rational creatures\nhappy, and he does not require us to forego the innocent diversions\nwhich improved society has instituted for its own gratification.\nHowever, it is not my wish to prolong a debate which is mutually\nunpleasant.\"\n\n\"Do these ladies,\" inquired Mrs. Stevens, \"ever come now to hear you\npreach?\"\n\n\"No, Madam, Miss Dorothy bears what she calls her expulsion\nfrom church in a genuine pharisaical _hauteur_ of spirit; and is\nsullenly silent about the cause of it. But Miss Susan is bitterly\nvituperative. She often says I shall have to account to the Almighty\nfor driving her from the church where she was christened, and\nconfirmed, and taken the sacrament ever since, and where she hoped\nto be buried with her ancestors; but she declares I shall never bury\nher.\"\n\n\"Do you ever see them now, Sir?\"\n\n\"We occasionally meet, when we go through the formal ceremonial of a\npolite recognition. They do not object to a bow from their rector,\nthough they object to his sermons.\"\n\n\"Have they any pernicious influence over others to keep them from\nchurch?\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam, over a few of the frivolous and the gay, who now attend\nMr. Cole's church, when they go anywhere. And there these two ladies\ngo on sacrament Sunday--wind and weather permitting.\"\n\n\"We often,\" said Mr. Ingleby, \"see the depraved and dissolute\nrepenting, and seeking salvation through faith in Jesus Christ,\nbut we rarely know a genuine Pharisee converted; they are too good\nin their own estimation to need a Saviour. They will bow at the\nmention of his name, but they will not look to him to save them;\nand primarily, because they are under no apprehension of ever being\nlost.\"\n\nWe were startled, while gravely listening to this tale of the two\nspinster ladies, by the sudden tolling of the church bell. Mr.\nIngleby left the room to ascertain the cause, and on his return\ninformed us that, owing to some mistake, he had to conduct the\nservice at a funeral, which he expected would not take place till\nthe following day.\n\n\"Pray, Sir,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"who is to be interred?\" \"One of the\nchoicest lambs of my flock. She fell a victim to the inconstancy of\na worthless man; but towards the close of her imbittered life she\nenjoyed unruffled peace of soul, and died in full and certain hope\nof a joyful resurrection to eternal life.\" He now left us to prepare\nfor the service, and we resolved to follow him to the grave-yard.\n\n[Illustration: A LAMB OF THE FLOCK BORNE TO HER REST.\n\nVol. i. page 87.]\n\nSeated by myself upon a tombstone, I sat musing on death and\nimmortality; on the raptures and the woes of the invisible world;\non the dying and on the dead; till I saw the procession moving\nslowly up a lane which led to the place of sepulture. The pall was\nsupported by six females dressed in white; and one walked before\nthe corpse, carrying a chaplet of flowers. The parents and their\nsurviving children followed; and a large proportion of the village\nhung on, as deeply interested spectators. On entering the church,\nthe bier was placed in the aisle; the pall-bearers standing by its\nsides during the whole of the service. The procession at length\nmoved to the grave, which was under the shade of a yew tree. Every\neye appeared suffused with tears; but when the noise of the earth\nfalling on the coffin was heard, there was such a simultaneous\nemotion of grief excited, that nearly all wept, except the parents.\nThey stood motionless; the power of feeling seemed suspended; a\nfixed melancholy was impressed on their countenance; and they walked\naway, the victims of despair, moving from one dreary spot to another\nnot less dreary.\n\nAs their grief appeared too singular to use any of the common\nmethods which that passion generally adopts to gain relief from its\nown inflictions, I felt anxious to ascertain the specific cause\nof its excitement; and, on returning to the rectory, I asked Mr.\nIngleby to give us the history of the deceased.\n\n\"She was,\" he said, \"the eldest daughter of an opulent farmer,\nwho resides about half-a-mile off; an extremely handsome and\naccomplished girl; and, from the elegance of her manners, and her\nintellectual attainments, she was fitted to move in the most polite\ncircles. But though she stood without a rival in the whole hamlet,\nshe was either unconscious of her superiority, or had too much good\nsense to display it. She would visit the sick, instruct the children\nof the poor, or perform any other work of mercy. In her the passion\nof selfishness was annihilated, and she lived to bless others. But\nshe wanted the grace of pure religion to give the finishing polish\nto her attractive charms: and had she possessed this at an earlier\nperiod of her life, she might still have been, what she once was,\nthe glory of her father's house.\n\n\"About four years ago, a young gentleman of rank and fortune, but\nof dissipated habits, obtained an introduction to her; an intimacy\nwas formed, which soon ripened, in her unsuspecting breast, into\nan ardent attachment. Her parents, who ought to have guarded her\nagainst the cruel monster, did all in their power to encourage his\nvisits; and on one occasion, when I ventured to suggest that I\nsuspected the purity of his intentions, they were offended. But the\nveil of deception, which he had thrown over his professions, was\nvery unexpectedly rent asunder; and with a levity and insolence of\nmanner, which rarely occur in the annals of human treachery, he tore\nhimself away from her, leaving her the dupe of her own credulity,\nand the victim of her own grief. Abandoned by one she loved, and\nthrown as an orphan on the world, even while her parents were still\nliving, she withdrew from society, and, like the stricken deer,\nsought a tranquil death in a gloomy shade. Her health gradually\ndeclined, and it was thought proper to try if change of air and\nchange of scene would not become the means of restoring it. She\nwent, with a younger sister, to Teignmouth, to spend the winter; but\non her return we all perceived that she was hastening to the tomb.\n\n\"I called to see her a few days after her return, and was both\nastonished and delighted to find that, during her residence at\nTeignmouth, she had given almost undivided attention to the\nmomentous claims of religion. 'Though, Sir,' she said, 'I have had\nthe privilege of attending your ministry from my early childhood,\nand have had my mind, at various times, most powerfully impressed by\nthe truth, which I have heard you preach, yet I never understood the\nplan of salvation till recently. I used to admit the importance of\nreligion, but _now I feel it_; and though I cannot say that I have\nattained to any high degree of eminence in knowledge or enjoyment,\nyet light has broken in upon my understanding, and I am permitted\nto indulge a good hope through grace. How astonishing! I was sent\nto Teignmouth for the recovery of my health, which I have not\nobtained; _but there I found the pearl of great price_' (Rom. xi.\n33).\n\n\"I asked her if anything of a particular nature occurred while she\nwas at Teignmouth, to force on her attention the great question\nrelating to her personal salvation? when she gave me the following\nstatement:--\n\n\"'When out for a walk one evening, I ran into a roadside cottage,\nfor shelter against a very heavy shower of rain. I there saw a young\nperson, about my own age, dying of a decline; and in a short time\nher physician came, who is a very godly man, and I overheard part of\ntheir conversation. I heard her say, I am not now afraid of dying\nor of death. I know by the loss of this frail life I shall gain\nimmortal life in heaven--a life of happiness, where there will be no\nsin, or sorrow, or pain, or poverty, or death.'\n\n\"'I called,' she added, 'the next day, with a few jellies and\noranges, but I found the cottage in a state of great confusion and\nsorrow, for she died just before I entered it. On the following\nSabbath her funeral sermon was preached at the Dissenting chapel,\nand I heard it. The text made a deep impression on my heart, as\nI thought it applicable to myself--\"_Her sun went down while it\nwas yet day_.\" From that hour I gave an undiverted attention to\nthe apostolic injunction--\"Work out your salvation with fear and\ntrembling;\" and I trust, Sir, I can now say I do believe in the\nSon of God, and hope He will save me. I may live to outlive my\naffliction, and the poignant sufferings which have been the cause of\nit; but it is very doubtful. What a mercy that I am now prepared for\ndeath and its issue.'\n\n\"She grew better as the spring advanced; the influence of religious\nprinciple moderated the violence of her mental anguish; her spirits\nregained their natural vivacity; she resumed her customary habits of\ngoing about doing good, and again mingled amongst the living; but\nnow her preference was to the excellent of the earth, who love and\nfear God. So great was the change in her appearance, that we all\nflattered ourselves that the fatal disease had received a check,\nand that she would yet live to bless us with her presence and her\nexample. But the disorder, which we thought subdued, was silently\nspreading itself through her whole frame; and having taken a fresh\ncold, it attacked her with greater violence, and within the space of\nthree weeks she was taken from us. At my last interview with her,\nwhich was only a few hours before her decease, she said, 'I am not\n_now_ afraid to die. The subject has long been familiar to me. It\nis divested of all its terrors. \"I know that my Redeemer liveth.\"\nI enjoy His presence this side the Jordan, and doubt not but the\nwaters will divide when He calls me to pass through.'\n\n\"On seeing her mother weep, and her father retiring in sorrow from\nthe 'post of observation,' she said with great composure, 'My dear\nparents, weep not for me. I shall soon, very soon be released from\nall my pain, and see Him, \"whom having not seen, I love; in whom,\nthough I see Him not, yet believing, I rejoice with joy unspeakable\nand full of glory.\" I leave you in this vale of sorrow, to ascend\nthe mount of bliss; and I hope you will follow me. And O! that he\nwho has been the guilty cause of my early death, may obtain mercy in\nthat day when we must stand together before the judgment-seat.' She\nspoke but little after this, and at seven o'clock the same evening\nshe said, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,' smiled, and expired.\n\n\"Since her death her parents, who are virtuous, but not pious, have\nbeen inconsolable; they reproach themselves in the bitterest terms\nfor the inducements which they threw in the way of the murderer of\ntheir daughter and the destroyer of their happiness; and though\nthey have no doubt of her present felicity, yet, being ignorant of\nthe nature of that felicity, and having no animating prospect of\nattaining it themselves, they sorrow as others who have no hope. I\nhave visited them several times since the dear deceased left us; but\ngrief has taken such an entire possession of their mind, that the\nwords of consolation seem to aggravate its violence, and I fear,\nunless mercy interpose to prevent it, that the grave will soon be\nopened to receive them.\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"gives such buoyancy to the mind, in\nthe season of affliction, as communion with God. This holy exercise\ninduces resignation, as well as submission to His will; raises\nup the soul above the conflicting elements of sorrow, into the\ntranquil regions of peace; and, by associating it with the unseen,\nyet not unfelt realities of the eternal world, makes it unwilling\nto look for permanent and substantial happiness amidst the fleeting\npossessions of earth.\"\n\n\"I was present,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"when my dear sister, Mrs.\nLewellin, lost her Eliza. She wept as she followed her remains to\nthe tomb; but she did not repine. She said to me, after the rites of\nsepulture were performed, as we sat together in the room in which\nthe dear girl expired, 'If it had been the will of the Lord to have\nspared my child, I would have received her back with grateful joy;\nbut as He has taken her to Himself, I can bow and say,\n\n    'I welcome all thy sov'reign will,\n      For all that will is love;\n    And when I know not what thou dost,\n      I'll wait the light above.'\"\n\n\"Religion,\" said Mr. Ingleby, \"has a fine effect on the soul in the\nday of prosperity; but its excellency is most visible in the season\nof adversity; then it shines with peculiar radiance, demonstrating\nits superhuman origin, by the omnipotence of its power in moderating\nthe intensity of grief, and inspiring the soul with a hope full of\nimmortality.\"\n\n\n\n\nSATURDAY EVENING AT FAIRMOUNT.\n\n\nIt was on a fine summer evening, when taking a solitary ramble,\nthat I seated myself on the stump of an old elm tree, gazing\non the splendour of the heavens and the beauties of the earth;\nthinking of the mysterious period when there was no sun, or moon,\nor stars; when there was no material universe or created beings;\nthat I unconsciously fell into the following train of reflection.\nHere I am; but how came I here? Am I the child of chance, or the\noffspring of a wise and beneficent Creator? When I see a machine,\nI feel conscious that it was constructed by an artist; and can I\nsuppose that the more curious mechanism of my body was formed by\nchance? Was it chance that placed my eye in the only proper position\nin the body to guide the motion of my hands and my feet; that\nstationed around it so many guards to keep it from injury; that\nhas given it a mysterious power to travel over a wide and extended\nsurface without fatigue; and to receive the exact form and colour\nof external objects on the dark canvas spread out behind the lens,\nwithout intermixture or confusion? Was it chance that constructed\nmy ear for the nice discrimination of sounds; that let fall the\nray of intelligence on my understanding; and gave to my fancy its\ncapabilities to adorn the conceptions of my mind with the drapery\nof a beauteous imagery? And was it chance that gave to my tongue\nthe sense of taste and the gift of speech? Impossible! I trace\ncontrivance in all these astonishing arrangements and endowments,\nwhich demonstrates the existence of a God who made me. Was it chance\nthat placed the sun in the centre of the planetary system; that\nimpressed laws on those unconscious bodies which revolve around it,\nwhich keep them from deviating from their mysterious course; that\nset bounds to the sea, which it cannot pass; that gave to the air I\nbreathe a salubrious and elastic quality; and enriched the earth\nwith a prolific power? Impossible! In all these mighty works I trace\nthe operations of intelligence and design. \"The heavens declare the\nglory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.\" All nature\nis full of God. He shines in the brightness of the sun,\n\n                    ----\"Refreshes in the breeze,\n    Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees.\"\n\nAnd does not the visible creation display the goodness of God? Pain\nis not the object of contrivance, which would have been the case\nhad the Creator been a malevolent being. The eye is formed for the\npurpose of vision, not to be injured by the atom floating in the\nair; the ear for hearing, not for aching; the hand and the foot to\nbe active and useful, not to be lacerated by instruments of torture.\n\nThe sun was now creeping gently down the western horizon; the\nsky was clear and bright, as on the eve of the first day of the\ncreation; no sounds broke in upon my calm serenity, except the\nlowing of the cattle and the bleating of the sheep penned in a\nneighbouring fold; and, just as I was rising to a more glorious\ntheme of contemplation, my attention was arrested by the appearance\nof a gentleman, who was walking along the bank of a river, gliding\nthrough the vale beneath me. His manner was singular. Now he\nadvanced with hurried steps the distance of fifty yards, then\nsuddenly stopped, looked round him, advanced again, again stopped,\nstood motionless, then approached the brink of the river, receded,\nwalked up to the edge again, paused, appeared wrapped in deep\nand solemn thought, retraced his steps, abruptly stopped, fixed\nhis cane in the ground, threw down his gloves, took off his hat,\nadvanced, and fell. During the whole of these apparently mysterious\nmovements, my sympathies were excited, and I was making every\nnecessary preparation to save a soul from death. My feelings were\ntoo violently agitated to allow of cool reflection; but I could not\nrefrain from paying the tributary sigh to that unknown cause of woe\nwhich appeared to be hurrying an intelligent and accountable being\nout of a world on which I had been gazing with so much delight, and\nsending him, stained with the blood of his own life, into another\nand a changeless economy of existence.\n\nAs soon as I saw him fall, I rushed forward; and, as the river was\nnot more than a few hundred yards distant from me, I felt conscious\nthat I should be able to reach him in time to save his life; but\njust as I was going to leap over the stile that stood midway between\nus, I saw him raising himself on his knees. I drew back, and looking\nthrough the hedge, I perceived that he had not fallen into the\nriver, but among the high rushes that grew on its brink, and that he\nwas not meditating the destruction of his own life, but the rescue\nof a little lamb, that had accidentally slipped into the stream.\nThe transition of my mind from one of the most awful subjects of\ncontemplation, to a touching incident of human benevolence, was\nnot less gratifying to my feelings than the sudden hushing of the\nmidnight tempest is to the mariner, who, having lost his compass,\ncan steer his vessel only by the light of the polar star.\n\nCuriosity impelled me to watch the movements of this stranger, and\nI beheld him cautiously removing the weeds which were entwined\naround the exhausted lamb, and then carrying it to its dam, which,\nI imagined from her bleating, instinctively knew the danger from\nwhich her offspring had been delivered. This sight brought to\nmy recollection the language of the prophet, who represents the\nRedeemer as gathering the lambs with his arms, and carrying them in\nhis bosom.\n\nOn perceiving the stranger advancing towards the stile which I\nintended to cross, I again seated myself on my former post of\nobservation, and soon had the gratification of seeing him saunter\nup the lane. He was a young man, on whom the God of nature had\nbestowed a fine exterior form; and who by an action, which he was\nnot conscious I had witnessed, had strongly prepossessed me in his\nfavour. I arose on his coming near me; we exchanged the customary\nbow of polite recognition; and, after passing a few cursory remarks\non the varied scenery around us, we moved onwards together, and were\nsoon engaged in a very interesting and important discussion.\n\n\"I have, Sir,\" he said, \"left the bustling city, in which I have\nspent the greater part of my life, to survey for myself those rural\nbeauties and employments which I have been accustomed to view\nthrough the medium of the press.\"\n\n\"No fancy,\" I observed, \"can paint the beauties of nature, in all\ntheir varied forms, and hues, and rich combinations. The landscape\npleases when on the canvas; but there is no life, no motion, no\nsound, all which are necessary to make the representation really\ncorrect.\"\n\n\"True, Sir, but we are much indebted to the pencil for introducing\nrural scenes and scenery into our crowded cities, by which we are\ntold, through the medium of the eye, that there are living beauties\nin nature which _we may see_. This is my first visit to the country.\nI have been wandering about for several weeks, travelling from\nvillage to village, and penetrating into woods and forests; trying\nto make myself familiar with the manners and habits, the sentiments\nand feelings, of the various orders of rustic life. I have conversed\nwith the opulent and indigent farmer; with the man who holds the\nplough, and the man who drives the team; with the shepherd and the\nwoodman; I have looked into their houses and their huts, and have\ninvestigated their plans of domestic economy; and I think I shall\nnow return home with a more correct opinion of the actual state of\nthings that I once entertained. The beauties of nature are more\nbeautiful than I anticipated; but I have searched in vain for that\nrural simplicity, and innocence, and joy, which ancient and modern\npoets have described in such glowing colours. For simplicity, I\nhave found rudeness; for innocence, low cunning; for contentment,\nmurmuring dissatisfaction; for sportive playfulness, almost\nuniversal lamentation. To quote the language of a poet who first\nintroduced scepticism into my unsuspecting breast:--\n\n    'I grant, indeed, that fields and flocks have charms\n    For him that grazes, or for him that farms:\n    But, when amid such pleasing scenes, I trace\n    The poor, laborious natives of the place,\n    And see the mid-day sun, with fervid ray,\n    On their bare heads and dewy temples play;\n    While some, with feeble hands, and fainter hearts,\n    Deplore their fortune, yet sustain their parts--\n    Then, shall I dare these real ills to hide,\n    In tinsel trappings of poetic pride?'\"\n\n\"I have often been charmed with the pastoral life of the poets,\nbut I have never found a counterpart to their descriptions.\n_Their_shepherdesses are clothed with the verdant beauty of\nparadisaical innocence, and their shepherds are men of genius;\nthe sky beneath which their ewes lamb and their dogs sleep, knows\nnothing of the war of elements; but when I visit the actual spots\nfrom whence they collect their enchanting imagery, I see the\nponderous cloud overhanging the defenceless fold; and am soon\nconvinced that\n\n    'No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse,\n    Their country's beauty or their nymphs rehearse.'\"\n\n\"The poets have long been practising an illusion on our credulity;\nand though, after the deception is discovered, we may continue to\nadmire their highly-wrought descriptions, yet, the charm of reality\nhaving vanished, we feel dissatisfied.\"\n\n\"It is to be lamented,\" I replied, \"that poets are not the only\nwriters who try to impose on the credulity of their readers. The\nreading world, as it is called, revolves in a fictitious region;\nand hence, when its inhabitants come forth amidst the scenes of\nreal life, they are apt to think, and feel, and talk, and act, like\nbeings descended from an aerial planet.\"\n\n\"Your observation, Sir, is perfectly correct; but, in my opinion,\nno writers are so deserving of severe censure as religious writers.\nThey represent as fact, what we know is fable; as real, what our\nintuitive sense teaches us is imaginary; and, by a dexterity which\nbelongs exclusively to their order they try to beguile us of our\ninnocent recreations, which they denounce as impure and pernicious,\nand enforce on us exercises at which our generous nature recoils;\nand have the effrontery to tell us, that if we wish for happiness we\nmust seek for it in religion.\"\n\n\"That there has been deception practised by _some_ religious\nwriters no one can deny; but I cannot subscribe to every part of\nyour sweeping charge. For if your remarks are to be admitted in\ntheir fullest extent of application, they would go to the entire\nbanishment of all religion from society, which would be a fearful\ncalamity--the experience of all ages and countries proves that\nno social fabric can be held in order and in harmony, unless its\nvarious parts are compressed together by the force of religious\nopinions and sanctions.\"\n\n\"Not, Sir, to the banishment of the religion of nature, which\nis simple and pure, but to the banishment of the religion of\nrevelation, which is mystical and corrupt.\"\n\n\"And pray, my dear Sir, what is this religion of nature, which you\nsay is so simple and pure? It is something of which I have heard,\nbut I never saw its form or heard its voice.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, it is that view of the perfections of the Deity which we\ndiscover in His visible works, and the consequent impressions which\nthey make on our minds. How vast the power which has sprung yon\nazure arch over our revolving globe! What wisdom is displayed in the\nadaptation of every part of the creation to accomplish some obvious\ndesign! And it is evident, from the subservience of all things to\nthe comfort and happiness of living beings, that goodness is an\nessential attribute of the Deity. It is in this vast temple, where\nhe unveils his glory, that I offer up my orisons and my incense; and\nnot on altars built by human hands, or within temples consecrated by\npriestly incantations.\"\n\n\"I agree with you, that power, and wisdom, and goodness, are\ndisplayed in the works of God, and that we may worship him either\nin the glen or on the mountain top, beside the running stream or\nwithin the recesses of pathless woods; but, as we are sinners, can\nwe indulge any hope of mercy, unless he condescend to promise us\nforgiveness? And tell me from what part of the _visible creation_\nhas the sound of mercy ever proceeded?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, we may presume that He who has made provision for all our\ntemporal wants, has made provision also for our moral ones.\"\n\n\"We know, Sir, that the supreme magistrate feeds and clothes the\nstate prisoner, but are we to presume, from this circumstance, that\nhe will also remit his sentence of condemnation?\"\n\nThis question produced a momentary embarrassment; but, after a\nshort pause, he said, \"I grant that a promise of mercy would be a\nmore substantial basis for hope than a mere presumption resting on\nanalogical reasoning.\"\n\n\"I thank you for this frank admission; and I think if you will\ninvestigate the subject, free from prejudice, you will find that the\npromise has been given.\"\n\n\"I know that the writers of your Scriptures have incorporated the\npromise of forgiveness in their scheme of religion; but I can never\nbring my mind to believe that they were authorized to do so by the\nDeity. I never can believe in the truth of Christianity. It is\nimpossible.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, you will admit that it may be true, though you do not\nbelieve it?\"\n\n\"Why, yes; my scepticism does not prove it false, any more than your\nfaith proves it true.\"\n\n\"Now, let me suppose for a moment that it is true--in what an\nawful dilemma are you placed! Be candid. Are you convinced, by\nan unbiassed and dispassionate investigation of the evidences of\nChristianity, that the system is false?\"\n\n\"Why, no; I have never examined them; and for this reason, I have\nnever thought it worth while; because I cannot reconcile your\ndoctrine of the atonement with the dictates of reason.\"\n\n\"But, suppose the _fact_ of the atonement be established by proper,\n_valid evidence_, will your inability to reconcile it with the\ndictates of reason be any logical argument against it?\"\n\n\"Most certainly it will, unless you require me to believe what I\ncan neither understand nor comprehend; and, allow me to ask, what\npractical effect can be produced by the admission of any doctrine or\nsupposed fact which is incomprehensible?\"\n\n\"You believe in the existence of God; and that belief induces you\nto pay him homage; but can you comprehend the nature of his essence,\nor the _modus_ of his existence?\"\n\nHe was silent; I continued, \"We have positive proof that the tides\nof the ocean are acted on by the moon. This is a fact, which\nnautical science compels us to believe; and the belief does operate\non human conduct; but can you understand how its influence does act?\nBut, waiving the introduction of other facts, which may be made to\ntell with crushing force against your proposition, that what is\nincomprehensible cannot put forth any practical power, may I be\npermitted to ask, what other specific objections you have to advance\nagainst the doctrine of the atonement, which is so distinctly and\nrepeatedly brought forward by the writers of the Scriptures?\"\n\n\"I have several; first, I cannot admit that the death of an innocent\nperson can be accepted as an atonement for the sins of the guilty,\nwithout a gross violation of the laws of immutable justice. If I\ntake for granted, what your Scriptures assert to be the case, that\nman is a sinner, and consequently under a sentence of condemnation,\ndoes not immutable justice require that he should stand responsible\nfor his actions; how, then, can he transfer this responsibility to\nanother, without disturbing the established law of moral order?\"\n\n\"He _does not make the transfer_, he _merely accepts it_; the\ntransfer is made in his behalf, by the authority of the supreme\nlegislator; and Jesus Christ, to whom the transfer is made,\nwillingly takes upon himself the moral responsibility of human crime\nand guilt.\"\n\n\"This certainly obviates one part of my objection, but still\nimmutable justice seems to require, to quote from your own standard\nof authority, that _the soul that sinneth shall die_, that is, I\nsuppose, shall endure the penalty of his own crimes.\"\n\n\"Yes, unless some intervening act of grace be performed, which\nacquits the culprit, without setting aside the authority of the\nlaw by which he is condemned. You recollect what is reported of\nZaleucus, a king of Greece, at a crisis when the paternal affections\nbeat in harmony with the claims of justice.\"\n\n\"It has escaped my memory.\"\n\n\"The case was this--he passed a law which doomed an adulterer to\nthe loss of his eyes, as the penalty of his crime. His own son was\naccused and condemned; and the question arose amongst the people,\nWill the king's son suffer, or will the law be repealed? The king\nvery soon settled the question--his son suffers the loss of one eye,\nand then, to save him from total blindness, he consents to lose one\nof his own eyes; thus bowing to the majesty of his own law for the\nsuppression of this popular crime. Here we see how, by an expedient\ndevised by paternal benevolence, the authority of the law was\npreserved, while the guilty culprit was rescued from the _extreme\nseverity of_ its infliction. And now permit me to ask, whether the\ndevelopment of the paternal affections, in conjunction with the\nmitigated severity of judicial infliction, had not a necessary\ntendency to excite amongst the people a more profound reverence for\nthe law, while it increased their attachment to their sovereign, and\ntheir confidence in the equity of his administration? What adulterer\ncould expect to elude the penalty of his crime after witnessing such\na spectacle of justice and of benevolence?\"\n\n\"Permit me to say, I cannot perceive the bearing of this touching\nfact, which you have imported from Greece, on my objection to your\ndoctrine of the atonement.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I am surprised at that. The Bible tells us that God stands\nin the relation of a paternal sovereign, who commands our subjection\nto his laws, while he allows us to address him as our Father.\nThese laws we violate, and the penalty is incurred, and immutable\njustice requires its infliction; he provides a substitute in the\nperson of his only begotten Son, who willingly consents to accept\nthe appointment, and actually suffers, the just for the unjust;\ndying to rescue the guilty from the horrors of the second death.\nHere we see the conjunction of justice and mercy, the blending of\nthe awful majesty of the Sovereign with the tenderness of paternal\nbenevolence; the law is honoured, while the culprit is pardoned; and\nthe practical effect of this comprehensive scheme of grace is to\nincrease our reverence for the authority of God, while it increases\nalso our gratitude and love to him.\"\n\n\"If I admit, what you take for granted, that the Deity has given us\na code of laws in your Scriptures, and that the violation of any of\nthem does actually involve man in guilt and condemnation, then, in\nthat case, your explanation is a fair rescue of the atonement from\nthe grasp of my objection. But I have now to call your attention\nto another objection, which, I think, will give you a little more\ntrouble. But, before I bring it forward, allow me to ask one\nquestion. According to your theory, unless I misapprehend you, the\natonement is a simple vindication of the Deity's moral government,\nenabling him to exercise mercy in conjunction with justice; and thus\nuphold the authority of his laws, while he passes a sentence of\nacquittal on the culprit who transgresses or disobeys them?\"\n\n\"Yes, my theory embraces that aspect of the atonement.\"\n\n\"Has it any other bearing?\"\n\n\"Yes, it has an important bearing on man, in relieving him from the\ngalling pressure of conscious guilt, and giving him peace of soul,\ncombined with a hope of final salvation.\"\n\n\"It is this aspect of the atonement,\" said the stranger, \"which\nconstitutes the germ of my objection. The atonement, if a reality,\nis a fact of ancient date; and, like all other historical facts, it\ncomes transmitted to us on the evidence of testimony; and it must, I\nsuppose, be believed before it can exert any influence or power on\nthe mind of man.\"\n\n\"Most certainly.\"\n\n\"This is the problem I want solved; is this supposed moral power\nemitted _directly_ FROM the atonement on the human spirit, when\nit is in a quiescent state? if so, there can be no necessity for\nthe exercise of belief; or does the human spirit extract it by the\nmysterious action of its own faith? if so, as the virtue itself is\nboth intangible and imperceptible, and consequently inconceivable,\nhow can faith, whose object of belief must be something definite,\nperform the supposed action?\"\n\n\"Your question is a very subtle one, but it is not a very perplexing\none, because it relates to a fact of a peculiar order, all of which\nare self-evident, while the nature of their influence or power, and\nthe _modus_ of its operation--i.e., the operation of the influence\nof the facts of the peculiar order--are shrouded in a veil of\nimpenetrable mystery.\"\n\n\"Excuse me; but I don't take the drift of your meaning.\"\n\n\"You object to the atonement, because you cannot conceive how it can\nexert any effective influence over the soul of a man oppressed by a\nsense of conscious guilt.\"\n\n\"Exactly so.\"\n\n\"Well, I am now going to prove that there is no logical force in\nyour objection, and I will do this by one analogical fact, which\nwill explain, and, I think, confirm the correctness of my meaning.\nTake, then, human friendship. Is the moral power of human friendship\na fiction or a reality? Take the _look_ of friendship; is there no\nmoral power in the movement and soft beaming of the eye, especially\nin the falling tear? Take the _countenance_ of friendship; is\nthere no moral power in the bland and bewitching smile? Take the\n_bosom_ of friendship; is there no moral power in the suppressed\ngroan or noiseless sigh? Take the _hand_ of friendship; is there\nno moral power in the hearty shake or gentle squeeze? Take the\n_tongue_ of friendship; is there no moral power in its expressions\nof sympathy, or its promises of fidelity? But, Sir, what _is_ this\nmystic power, which is known to act with such efficacy on the\ntroubled and downcast spirit in the season of its perplexities and\nsorrows? Can you tell me _what it is, or how it acts_? It is a\n_mighty something_, which, like an invisible spirit of superhuman\nbenignity, moves without a shape, speaks without a voice, passes\nthrough all resistances of doubt and misgivings without an effort,\nlaying the throbbing heart of the anxious mourner at rest on its own\nimpalpable bosom, where it enjoys the solace and the calm of sweet\nrepose. Thus we have, in the common occurrences of every-day life, a\nphilosophical defence of the moral efficacy of the power which the\nScriptures ascribe to the atonement, even though we cannot define\nits exact nature, or explain the _modus_ of its actual operation. It\nis then, like the power of human friendship, a fact which evidence\nattests and which uniform experience confirms.\"\n\n\"I am delighted that my scepticism has supplied to you such a\ntempting background for the beautiful sketching of the mystic power\nof friendship true to life, with which you have now favoured me.\nBut you have overlooked one important fact, namely, that the human\nspirit is dependent on her physical senses for the transmission and\nreception of the power of friendship.\"\n\n\"True, but only as the _medium_ of transmission and reception; and\nthis fact supplies fresh evidence to prove, that while you are\ncompelled to admit, on the evidence of consciousness and testimony,\nthe power of friendship, you can neither explain nor conceive the\nnature of its influence, or the _modus_ of its operation. And it is\nto the same evidence I appeal in confirmation of the moral power\nof the atonement on the human spirit, and maintain that you have\nno moral, or even logical right to deny it, on the ground of my\ninability to give you all the explanations you may ask me for, when\nyou yourself feel a similar inability to explain how it is that a\nself-evident friendship works so powerfully on the heart of sorrow\nand of perplexity.\"\n\n\"Well, then, I will admit, and most readily, that you have fairly\nsilenced my _objection_ against the atonement, on the ground of your\ninability to explain, or my inability to conceive the _modus_ of its\nmoral operation on the human spirit; but still I hesitate to admit\nits reality, because I do not feel its absolute necessity, either as\na basis of hope or a source of mental ease and satisfaction.\"\n\n\"I once, Sir, rejected the atonement as you now do, but when I saw\nthe malignant quality of sin, I could reject it no longer; and you\nwill allow me to say, that if it be a reality, and you finally\nreject it, you will inevitably perish. Permit me, therefore, to\nadvise you to read the Scriptures attentively, examine the evidences\nwhich they adduce of their divine origin, and implore the Father\nof our spirits to aid the perceptions of your judgment and the\ntendencies of your will on this important subject of inquiry. If,\nafter this intellectual and moral process has been adopted, you are\ncompelled to disbelieve the Scripture doctrine of the atonement, you\nwill have the show of argument in your favour; but if you reject it\nwithout investigation, your folly will be no less apparent, even if\nit be false, than your guilt will be overwhelming, if it should be\ntrue.\"\n\n\"We must now,\" said the stranger, \"leave this subject of discussion,\nand bid adieu to each other; but I will give you my pledge of honour\nthat I will take your advice, and if you will exchange cards with me\nyou shall know the result, though I cannot allow you to imagine that\nit will afford you any satisfaction.\"\n\n\"It may, and I hope it will.\"\n\nThe stranger (whose name I perceived, on looking at his card, was\nGordon), on taking leave of me, said, \"I have been watching yonder\ncloud some time, and am apprehensive a storm is rising; but I hope\nwe shall be able to escape it.\" I now hastened towards Fairmount;\nbut, as I had wandered the distance of some miles, I soon found that\nit would be impossible to reach it without having to encounter the\nthreatening tempest. As I passed through a thick coppice, the birds\nsat in silence on the branches, or flew with rapidity from one tree\nto another; the wind blew with a deep and hollow sound; and then for\na few seconds ceased its howlings, as if to recover strength to send\nforth a more dismal groan. On descending the slope which led into\nthe vale, a streak of lightning struck across my path, and the loud\nroaring thunder, echoing through the valley, produced a universal\nconsternation in its flocks and herds. A sudden darkness came over\nthe whole horizon; the rain came down in torrents; and, having\nmissed my path, I knew not which way to proceed.\n\nAfter walking on a considerable distance, I saw a cottage, towards\nwhich I ran for shelter, and was welcomed in. The honest woodman\nimmediately ordered his eldest boy to fetch a large bundle of\nsticks to throw on the fire; and I was requested to draw near and\ndry myself. Up in the chimney-corner sat a fine-looking girl, about\nnine years of age, whose eyes were bedewed with tears; another,\nabout three years older, sat in the window seat wrapped in pensive\nsadness; an athletic youth, still older, was reclining himself\nagainst the table; and the father soon drew, from the deep recesses\nof a wounded breast, one of the most piercing groans that ever\nvibrated across the sensibilities of my heart. These symptoms of\ngrief soon convinced me that I had retreated from the disorders\nof the physical world, to witness the convulsive throes of the\nsocial; and my spirits, which usually ebb and flow with the tide of\nfeeling on which they are borne, began to sink within me. \"I fear,\"\naddressing myself to the father, \"you are in trouble?\" \"O yes, Sir!\nour hearts are all bursting; for death is coming to bear off our\nlittle Jemima. She is up stairs, where she has now been these eight\ndays, and her mother has never left her, night or day. She is one\nof the best girls a father ever loved.\" \"But death does not come by\nchance.\" \"O, no; 'the Lord gave, and the Lord takes away; blessed be\nthe name of the Lord;' but it is hard work to part. Do walk up and\nsee her before she dies; but she is so changed!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE WOODMAN'S FAMILY IN TROUBLE.\n\nVol i. p. 105.]\n\nI entered her room, and soon perceived that death had cast his fatal\nshadow on her countenance, which still retained its beautiful form\nand expression. Addressing myself to the child, I said, \"Do you\nthink you shall die?\" \"Yes, Sir.\" \"And if you die, where do you\nexpect to go?\" \"To heaven.\" \"What makes you think you shall go to\nheaven?\" \"Jesus Christ has said, 'Suffer little children, and forbid\nthem not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'\"\n\"What do you understand by coming to Jesus Christ?\" \"Believing in\nhim, and loving him.\" \"Did you always believe in him, and love him?\"\n\"No, not till he inclined me; for if we love him, it is because he\nfirst loved us.\" \"Then you can leave father, and mother, and all\nyour brothers and sisters, to go to heaven?\" \"Yes, Sir; I have no\nwish to live on earth when I have the prospect of living a happier\nlife in heaven.\"\n\nThe surgeon, who had been anxiously expected for several hours, now\narrived. \"Do you think,\" said the grief-worn mother, \"our child\nis dying?\" This question, though familiar to the humane man, was\nnot heard without an evident emotion of sorrow. \"While there is\nlife there is hope; but I would not advise you to be too sanguine\nin your expectations; she is very ill.\" There was no burst of\nanguish at this reply. They all knew Jemima was dying, though they\nwere unwilling to believe it; and though their pulse beat a little\nquicker on hearing this reply, and their faces turned paler, yet\nthey stood pressing round the bed, as if to keep off the king of\nterrors, whose advanced guards had taken the forlorn hope.\n\nWe now went down stairs; and, as the storm was over, the surgeon\nleft, but I could not leave. \"Will you,\" said the father, \"go to\nprayer with us? If it were not for prayer, and the hope which the\ngospel gives, my heart would break.\" With this request I complied;\nand while praying to the God of all grace that the little child\nmight be favoured with the light of his countenance in her passage\nthrough the valley of the shadow of death, I heard the mother's\nshriek, which convinced me that she was gone. The children started\nup, weeping aloud, wringing their hands, and calling, \"Jemima!\nJemima! don't leave us.\" And the mother, with a softened melancholy\nof countenance, appeared among as, saying, with a faltering tongue,\n\"_She exclaimed, as I was raising her up on the pillow, 'I am going\nto heaven!' and fell back in my arms, and died_.\"\n\nI remained with them about a quarter of an hour, administering to\nthem the consolations of religion, and then left them, in company\nwith the eldest boy, who conducted me to Fairmount, which I reached\nabout ten o'clock. I related to my friends the adventures of my\nramble, which compensated for the anxiety which my long absence\nand the state of the weather had occasioned. When reflecting on\nthis fact, and contrasting the bright prospect which the gospel of\nChrist unveils to the juvenile as well as to the aged Christian,\nwith the dark and cheerless gloom of infidelity, I feel its immense\nsuperiority; and with emotions which no language can describe, I pay\nmy adorations and praises to Him who brought life and immortality to\nlight.\n\n\n\n\nA SABBATH MORNING AT FAIRMOUNT.\n\n\nHaving spent a few hours in meditating on the great facts of the\nChristian faith, an exercise in which I have for many years been\nin the habit of engaging on a Saturday evening, I retired to rest,\nand soon fell asleep; and in my sleep I had a dream. I dreamt that,\nunder a serene sky, I was passing through a beautiful vale, belted\non each side by a plantation of gigantic trees; and, on reaching\nthe end of it, I saw a broad gravel walk, running along the margin\nof a rapid river; then turning off rather abruptly under the shade\nof a high mountain, winding itself gradually into a grove of large\nand beauteous shrubs, whose foliage surpassed, in diversified forms\nand variegated colours, anything of the kind I had ever seen. The\nsoft breezes were laden with the most delicious odours of flowers;\nand the air vibrated with the music of its feathered tribes. I often\npaused; and while listening to the soft sounds of melody, and while\ninhaling the sweet fragrance, I felt an unusual elevation of spirit,\na calm ecstasy of emotion. In about half an hour I came to a spot\nwhich commanded a bold view of an extensive landscape; but the most\nattractive object in this scene of beauty and of grandeur was a\nchurch, imbedded in an inclosure of evergreens. I now quickened my\npace. As I advanced near it I heard the harmony of sacred song; but\nit soon died away into profound silence. The devotional part of the\nservice was over before I entered the church, and the minister had\nnamed his text; but, from the tenor of his discourse, I judged it\nwas \"A PRINCE AND A SAVIOUR.\" The following is the only paragraph\nwhich was distinct and fresh upon my memory when I awoke, and it was\ndelivered with an impressiveness of manner and intonation which kept\nthe entire congregation in breathless silence:--\n\n\"He walked through the province of human misery and crime, a\nmysterious being, doing what He pleased, without ostentation and\nwith perfect ease. He gave sight to the blind, and hearing to the\ndeaf; disease, in its multifarious forms of infliction, withdrew\nwhen He issued the command; the dead arose to do Him homage; the\nraging elements, when His disciples were in danger, hushed to a calm\nat His bidding; and the dumb became vocal in His praise. These were\nthe triumphs of benevolence over the miseries of man, requiring, on\nHis part, no privations or suffering to effect them. Shift the scene\nof His history, and what a sight do we behold! He is poor, homeless,\nand unpitied; often weary in His great exertions of beneficence;\nand sometimes having to endure the extreme of hunger and of thirst.\nHis enemies revile Him as a fanatic; denounce Him as an impostor\nand maniac; and accuse Him of treason and blasphemy; and secretly\nconspire to put Him to death. The quietude of Gethsemane, where He\nwas pleading with heaven in behalf of the people, is broken by the\nfoot-treads of His betrayer, stepping in advance of an armed force;\nin the council-chamber of Caiaphas he is maligned and insulted; and\nwhen arraigned at Pilate's tribunal, He is scourged and condemned;\nand at Calvary they crucify Him between two malefactors. There this\nillustrious Prince bleeds, and there He dies; for what? and for\nwhom?\" The pathetic tones in which this sentence was uttered--there\nHe bleeds, and there He dies; for what? and for whom?--bathed the\nwhole audience in tears; there was a sudden pause, and its stillness\nawoke me.\n\n\"This,\" I said, as I came back to wakeful consciousness, \"is a\ndream, which has called up day thoughts in the visions of the night;\npainting on the fancy, in vivid colours, the meditations of the\nheart. A dream! strange phenomenon! the mysterious action of the\nmysterious spirit, ever active, with or without the auxiliary aid\nof the senses; but the facts of this dream are the realities of\nabsolute truth--the most wonderful and important realities within\nthe compass of universal knowledge. I can reply to the questions of\nthe dream in my wakeful hour. He bleeds; for what? The iniquities of\nthe people. He dies; for whom? He gave His life a ransom for the\nredemption and salvation of man. Wondrous event!\"\n\nOn looking out of my bedroom window, I saw the sun rising in his\nsplendour; the winds were at rest, no clouds veiled the heavens in\ngloom. \"It is,\" I involuntarily exclaimed, \"a delightful Sabbath\nmorning.\" Seeing Hervey's _Meditations_ on my dressing-table, I took\nit, and read his \"Descant upon Creation,\" closing with the following\nsoul-inspiring paragraph:--\n\n\"Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctuary, heralds commissioned\nfrom above, lift every one his voice like a trumpet, and loudly\nproclaim the Redeemer. Get ye up, ye ambassadors of peace, get ye\nup into the high mountains, and spread far and wide the honours of\nthe Lamb that was slain, but is alive for evermore. Teach every\nsacred roof to resound with His fame, and every human heart to\nglow with His love. Declare, as far as the force of words will go,\ndeclare the inexhaustible fulness of that great atonement, whose\nmerits are commensurate with the glories of the Divinity. Tell the\nsinful wretch what pity yearns at Immanuel's breast; what blood\nHe has spilt, what agonies He has endured, what wonders He has\nwrought for the salvation of His enemies. Invite the indigent to\nbecome rich; entreat the guilty to accept of pardon; because with\nthe crucified Jesus is plenteous redemption and all-sufficiency\nto save. While you, placed in conspicuous stations, proclaim the\njoyful sound, may I, as I steal through the vale of humble life,\ncatch the pleasing accents! For me the Author of all blessings\nbecame a curse; for me His bones were dislocated, and His flesh was\ntorn. He hung with streaming veins and an agonizing soul on the\ncross for me. O! may I, in my little sphere, and amidst the scanty\ncircle of my acquaintance, at least whisper these glad transporting\ntidings!--whisper them from my own heart, that they may surely reach\nand sweetly penetrate theirs.\n\n\"But when men and angels raise the grand hymn; when all worlds and\nall beings add their collective acclamations--this full, fervent,\nand universal chorus, will be so inferior to the riches of the\nRedeemer's grace, so disproportionate to the magnificence of His\nglory, that it will seem but to debase the unutterable subject it\nattempts to exalt. The loud hallelujah will _die_ away in the solemn\nmental eloquence of prostrate, rapturous, silent admiration.\n\n    'O goodness infinite! goodness immense!\n    And love that passeth knowledge! Words are vain;\n    Language is lost in wonder so divine;\n    Come, then, expressive _silence_, muse his praise.'\"\n\nOn my way to the church, passing a cottage which stood a short\ndistance from a foot-path I was crossing, I saw a man and his two\nsons at work in his garden; they made me a bow, which I acknowledged.\n\n\"Your cottage,\" I remarked, \"is pleasantly situated; and you seem to\nhave a productive garden, and keep it in good order.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Sir; but it costs us a deal of hard labour.\"\n\n\"Have you a large family?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, we have six children; and, thank God, they are as healthy\nas a spring morning.\"\n\n\"Who do you work for?\"\n\n\"I and these two lads work for Farmer Goddard, who lives just over\nthe hill, as good a master as ever hired a servant.\"\n\n\"What time do you generally devote to your garden?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, we give it a few odd hours in the week; but as that is\nnot enough, we work at it on a Sunday morning till dinner-time.\"\n\n\"And what do you generally do after dinner on a Sunday?\"\n\n\"The lads go on the green for a bit of a frolic, and I go up to the\nPlough, and spend a few hours along with some of my neighbours.\"\n\n\"Can you read?\"\n\n\"A little, Sir; but my wife can read as well as any of my master's\ndaughters.\"\n\n\"Have you a Bible?\"\n\n\"Yes; but I don't read it much, because I can't understand it.\"\n\n\"Don't you think you could understand the following\npassage:--'Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt\nthou labour, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the\nsabbath of the Lord thy God; in it thou shalt not do any work, thou,\nnor thy son.'\"\n\n[Illustration: \"WE WORK ON SUNDAY TILL DINNER-TIME.\"\n\nVol. i. page 110.]\n\n\"Why, yes, Sir; that's plain enough to be understood; but such poor\nfolks as us can't afford to rest from labour on a Sunday.\"\n\n\"Do you think that God would command poor people to rest from their\nlabour on the Sabbath, unless He knew that it would be for their\ngood? And, besides, do you think that poverty will be admitted as an\nexcuse for a neglect of duty? Suppose your master was to tell you to\nfetch up the cows from yon meadow, would your poverty be an excuse\nfor not doing it?\"\n\n\"No; to be sure not. I ought to do what master bids me.\"\n\n\"If, then, you ought to do what master bids you, _ought you not to\ndo what God commands you_?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Sir; I must say that you are right.\"\n\n\"But you tell me that after dinner you go up to the Plough, where I\nsuppose you spend some of your money. Now, your poverty ought to be\nan excuse to keep you from a public-house; but it ought not to be an\nexcuse to keep you away from church.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I must say there is reason in what you say, but I don't\nspend much; and I like to have a little talk with my neighbours.\"\n\n\"But do you never think of another world?\"\n\n\"Not so much as I should, Sir, I must say.\"\n\n\"Don't you know that you are born to live for ever? During the\nfirst period of your existence you have to live in this world, and\nthis period is very short; during the next period of your existence\nyou will have to live in the invisible world, and that will never\nend. And while here you are making preparation for your future and\nchangeless condition of existence--for heaven, and its happiness and\ndignity, or for hell, and its misery and degradation.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, to speak the truth, I never heard anything about this\ntill lately; but last Lady-day master hired a fellow-servant, who\nhas often talked to us on this subject; but I never give heed to\nwhat he says, because he is a _fantic_, so Miss says, who has just\ncome home from boarding-school.\"\n\n\"A fanatic you mean; but that is a nick-name which people who\nhave no religion give to those who have. Now, I suppose your\nfellow-servant understands more about the Bible and about religion\nthan you do?\"\n\n\"More than I do! ay, more than all the rest on the farm put\ntogether. He has got the Bible at his fingers' ends, and will tell\nthe meaning, too, off hand; and master has taken a great liking to\nhim, and is going off to his way of thinking, which, I hear, is a\nmortal sorrow to mistress and the young ladies.\"\n\n\"Does his religion make him wretched?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, it is commonly thought in many of these parts, and by\nmany of the gentlefolks, that religion makes people unhappy; but I\nam sure that our Sam is one of the happiest men on earth. I have\noften said to my wife that there must be something in Sam's religion\nwhich we don't know anything about; because, let whoever will be\ndull and sorrowful, he is always happy.\"\n\n\"Yes, my honest fellow, there is more in religion than you, who do\nnot understand it, can form any notion of. Religion is something\nmore than resting from labour on a Sunday, and going to church.\"\n\n\"More than that, Sir! then I wish you would tell me what it is; for\nI always thought that going to church was all that God required us\nto do; and I heard mistress say so to master t'other day, and she\nwas in earnest when she said it, for she spoke loud enough to be\nheard all over the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Yes, I will tell you with great pleasure. As we are depraved and\nunholy, more disposed to love sin than to hate it, the Bible tells\nus that the dispositions and propensities of our mind must be\nchanged by a supernatural power; and when this change takes place,\nwe become new creatures--old things pass away, and all things become\nnew. And as we are guilty sinners, we must repent of our sins, and\nbelieve in the Lord Jesus Christ, who came into the world to save\nsinners, even the chief.\"\n\n\"Ay, I see, all this belongs to the mind, and is something different\nfrom merely going to church. Now I have often been to church, but I\nalways came out just as I went in. I never heard anything that ever\ntouched my heart.\"\n\nPleased with this reply, which seemed to indicate an apprehension\nof the subject, I replied, \"Yes; you may go to a church, and return\nfrom it without possessing religion, for that has a peculiar and\ndirect reference to the heart, which is by nature deceitful and\nimpure. But yet religion is conveyed to the heart through the medium\nof reading or of hearing. Hence it is our duty to read the Bible and\nother good books, and to go and hear the gospel preached, because it\npleases God, by means of preaching, to save them that believe.\"\n\n\"Then I suppose, Sir, you are now going to church; but as you are\na stranger in these parts, perhaps you don't know that our parish\nchurch stands yonder.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know it does; but I am not going to that church, because the\nclergyman does not preach the pure gospel of Jesus Christ. He is a\nblind guide.\"\n\n\"No, Sir; on that point you are mistaken; his eye is as\nsharp-sighted as a hawk's; he is the best shot in the parish.\"\n\n\"I don't mean that he is literally blind, but spiritually; that is,\nhe does not understand the religion of the Bible, and therefore he\ndoes not teach it.\"\n\n\"That's what our Sam says, and I heard mistress let fly at him\nrather sharply t'other day for saying so. But master now says the\nsame thing, which, I am told by the dairy-maid, gives mortal offence\nto mistress and the young ladies. But I never knew master wrong in\nhis judgment of men and things. Where, Sir, are you going, if one\nmay be so bold to ask?\"\n\n\"I am going to hear Mr. Ingleby, whose preaching has been such a\ngreat blessing to many of his parishioners and others.\"\n\n\"That's the parson our Sam goes to hear; and master has taken to\ngo to hear him lately. He wants, so I have heard, mistress to go\nwith him, and the young ladies; but they won't; they say he is a\nMethodist and _fantic_.\"\n\n\"Have you ever heard him preach?\"\n\n\"No, Sir. I am told that his preaching drives people out of their\nsenses, and I should not like to part with what little I have.\"\n\n\"Did you ever know any one driven out of his senses by him?\"\n\n\"Why, no, Sir; and I must say that I don't much believe it; and\nfor this reason, I always find people who like his preaching more\ninclined to do poor people good, than those who talk against it.\nWhy, Sir, when my wife was last confined, we all thought that she\nwould die; and it is wonderful how kind some of Mr. Ingleby's\nfollowers were to her. They gave her what she wanted for this world,\nand talked to her so kindly about another world, that she has taken\na liking to them, and would have been off to their religion, but I\nwould not let her. We have had more words on this subject than any\nother since we have been married, which is now eighteen years come\nChristmas.\"\n\n\"And do you think that you have done right by opposing your wife?\nNow, suppose you were to make up your mind to go and hear Mr.\nIngleby preach, how would you like for your master to say to you,\n_No, you shall not go_?\"\n\n\"I should not like it at all, because I think I have a right to go\nwhere I please on a Sunday, if I do my work in the week.\"\n\n\"Then, has not your wife a right to go where she likes to worship\nGod, and get religious instruction, if she does her duties at home.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, Sir, and I sometimes think that I have done wrong by\nstopping her.\"\n\n\"Now, take my advice, let her go, and go you too, and hear and judge\nfor yourself; and, take my word for it, you will never regret it.\"\n\nI now left him, and hastened to church; and just as I entered, the\nvenerable man read from the desk, \"I will arise and go to my Father,\nand will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and\nbefore thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me\nas one of thy hired servants.\" He conducted the devotional part of\nthe service with great solemnity, and the congregation appeared to\nfeel that they were under the immediate notice of the Holy One of\nIsrael. After his entrance into the pulpit, he presented a short\nextemporary prayer with great simplicity and fervour, and then\nannounced his text: Genesis xxviii. 16, 17.\n\nI. It is the presence of God which constitutes the glory of the\nvisible temple.\n\nII. He is sometimes present when the worshippers are unconscious of\nthe fact; and,\n\nIII. A belief of his presence is calculated to excite awe and\ndelight.\n\nAs a few notes of this sermon may not be unacceptable to the reader,\nI will give them:\n\n\"That God actually dwells in the place where a pure worship is\nperformed, we have the most decisive proofs. 'In all places where\nI record my name, I will come unto thee, and I will bless thee'\n(Exodus xx. 24).\n\n\"His presence is extended through all space, and operates with an\nundiminished force in every part of his universal dominion; but\nthere is a more special manifestation of it where people assemble to\npraise and pray. And though scepticism may ridicule such a notion as\ngiving locality to the Supreme Being, yet to deny it, is virtually\nto exclude him from the government of the world. But what attracts\nhis notice? Not the rising spire, nor the tolling bell; not the\nGothic arch, nor the Corinthian column; not the flowing vestment\nof the preacher, nor the purple robe of the hearer. These are the\nembellishments and attractions of human device, which may captivate\nand amuse the sentimental or the superstitious, but from such vain\nshows the Holy One turns away, to look with complacency on an object\nwhich a proud and sceptical world scorns to pity or to notice. 'To\nthis man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite\nspirit, and trembleth at my word' (Isaiah lxvi. 2).\n\n\"He is here, though you see him not, and though the sound of his\nawful and paternal voice is never heard; and when you come into his\ninvisible presence, always remember that 'God is a Spirit: and they\nthat worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth' (John iv.\n24). You must bow before him in faith, believing that his eye is\nupon you, and that he knows all the thoughts and desires of your\nheart; you must confess and deplore your sins, and pray for mercy,\nand for your eternal salvation in the name of Jesus Christ, giving\nthanks for every good and perfect gift which he has bestowed upon\nyou. If you do this, then you may expect some special manifestations\nof his grace and love; but if you feel no emotions of reverence, of\nself-humiliation, or of gratitude, nor any intense desires for his\nfavour and loving-kindness, then you stand chargeable--even though\nyou may suppose you have done your duty--with the sin of hypocrisy\nor insincerity, and of you the Lord may say, 'This people draw near\nme with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have\nremoved their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught\nby the precept of men' (Isa. xxix. 13.)\n\n\"And, in addition to these exercises of mental devotion, you are to\nlisten to what God the Lord will say to you in the ministrations\nof truth and grace, which His ministers are employed to conduct.\nWe preach, warning every man, and teaching every man, that we may\npresent every man perfect in Christ Jesus; but we warn and teach\nin vain, unless you believe, and receive the truth in love and\ngratitude, not as the word of man, but as the word of God; and if\nour warnings and teachings do not take effect, you will die in your\nsins and perish for ever. For how '_will you escape if you neglect\nso great salvation_.'\"\n\nWhen going through the crowd, after the service of the church was\nover, I noticed the man with whom I had been conversing in the\nmorning, a little way before me, with his wife and two of his\nchildren. When he saw me, he came up, and, thanking me for my\nadvice, said, \"I hope, Sir, I shall never forget this day; and I am\nsure that I shall often think of you when I don't see you.\"\n\nAs I was sauntering along, meditating on the realities of the\nvisible and the invisible world, and offering my silent adorations\nand thanksgivings to Him who gave himself a ransom for my\nredemption, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, and, turning\nround, I was rather abruptly addressed by a stranger, who said, \"I\nthank you, Sir, for persuading my servant, Robert, to come to church\nthis morning. He is a good servant, and a better informed man than\nmost labourers; but he wants _the one thing needful_. Godly servants\nare a master's treasure.\"\n\n\"Am I addressing Mr. Goddard?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; and if I mistake not, you are the gentleman who has\ncalled to see my friend, Mr. Pickford.\"\n\n\"Yes, I have visited him.\"\n\n\"I wish, Sir, you would come and see me. Your talk and prayer might\ndo my family good, as it has done his.\"\n\n\"I am glad to hear that you are turning your attention to the\nsalvation of your soul.\"\n\n\"Ah, Sir, I lived for many years, like most of the farmers in these\nparts, a sad heathenish life; and I should have lived on in this\nstate till the hour of death, had it not pleased God to send me\na godly servant. His plain and honest talk set me thinking, and\nreading my Bible, and then I went and heard the Rev. Mr. Ingleby\npreach, and the gospel came with great power to my soul. It opened\nbefore me a new scene of spiritual wonders, and a new source of\nspiritual comfort. But I am sorry to say that all my family are\nsadly opposed to spiritual things; they make light of them.\"\n\n\"You may live to see a change.\"\n\n\"I hope I may. But it is very painful, after being made alive from\nthe dead, to see my wife and children living under the sentence of\ndeath. It makes my heart ache. What ought I to do?\"\n\n\"Persuade them, when they go to public worship, to go where the\ngospel is preached.\"\n\n\"They object, Sir, and I cannot force them.\"\n\n\"Try the efficacy of prayer--the prayer of faith and of\nimportunity--and calmly wait the issue.\"\n\nWe now parted, and when going by the church in which the Rev. Mr.\nCole does duty, I picked up an elegantly bound prayer-book, and\nobserving a fashionable couple at a distance, I quickened my pace,\nthat I might restore what I presumed they deemed valuable, if their\nproperty. When I overtook them, I presented the book, and asked if\nthey knew to whom it belonged.\n\n\"O dear,\" said one of the ladies, \"it is mine, but I had not missed\nit. I thank you, Sir; we have heard a very excellent discourse this\nmorning from the Rev. Mr. Cole. O dear,\" said the lady, \"I think he\nis one of the most heavenly preachers I ever heard.\"\n\n\"Is his audience very large?\" I asked.\n\n\"O no, Sir; only a few genteel people attend, and a few poor\nold people, who receive the sacrament money, and some gifts at\nChristmas.\"\n\n\"Then, I presume, there can be but little religion in the parish,\nfor the population is very large.\"\n\n\"O dear, Sir, I assure you there is a great deal too much religion\nin our parish, and it is on this subject that Mr. Cole has been\npreaching so eloquently this morning.\"\n\n\"Why, Madam, you both puzzle and surprise me. Too much religion in\na parish where the generality of the people forsake the church, and\na minister preaching eloquently against religion, which he lives to\ninculcate and recommend!\"\n\n\"I see you are a stranger among us,\" said the lady, \"or you would\nperceive the force of my remarks. The people all flock to a church\njust over yonder hill, where a Mr. Ingleby preaches, and really,\nSir, if you associate with them, you would soon become quite dull\nand melancholy, particularly so. Do you know, Sir, that they are\nso far gone from all the elegant accomplishments of society, as to\nsay that it is a sin to play at cards, or attend a ball, or go to a\ntheatre, or anything of the kind? O dear, if I should ever, by any\nmisfortune, turn over to their religion, which I daily pray I may\nbe kept from, I should be, as the apostle says, of all, 'one of the\nmost miserable.'\"\n\n\"Well, Madam, with your antipathies to their religion, one should\nsuppose you are in no danger.\"\n\n\"O dear, there are strange things that happen, Sir, in the course\nof one's life. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, who live at Fairmount villa,\nwhich we shall see presently, were, a few years since, as gay as\nany. Mrs Stevens was never herself more completely than at a ball.\nShe is a most accomplished dancer; her action is so graceful; and\neven now, Sir, she moves as if she were stepping on springs, which\nmakes me think she has some secret longings to appear amongst us\nagain--an event we should be so glad to see, she is such a choice\nspirit; but now, as the apostle says, 'they are carried away with\nthis dissimulation.' They are now so religious that they read the\nBible, and sing a psalm, and say prayers every morning and evening\nin the family; and I am told, but I should hope there is no truth in\nthe report, that when Mr. Stevens is from home, Mrs. Stevens so far\nforgets herself as to say prayers to her servants.\"\n\n\"You should not believe everything that report says, Madam.\"\n\n\"O dear, I don't believe one-half, for I heard the other day that\nMrs. Stevens really goes to see a poor woman of the name of Allen,\nwho lives in this cottage which we are now passing, and that she\ndescends so low as to say prayers to her.\"\n\n\"Why, Madam, report is very busy in your neighbourhood; I am afraid\nyou are not living in peace.\"\n\n\"In peace, Sir; why, I assure you, it is the very worst\nneighbourhood I ever was in in all my life. I never hear one person\nspeak well of another.\"\n\n\"How do you account for it, Madam?\"\n\n\"O, Sir, it is religion which has done it. Not the religion of our\nforefathers, but the religion which is imported from t'other side\nof that hill. Do you know, Sir, that Farmer Goddard, who was one of\nthe pleasantest men I ever knew, has lately got infected by it; and\nMiss Goddard, who has just finished her education at Mrs. Roper's,\ntold us, as we walked together to church this morning, they can do\nnothing to please him. That when she wanted to go to Bath with Mr.\nJohnson, to see the _Fall of Tarquin_, he would not let her go, but\nhad the rudeness to say she was going into the way of temptation.\"\n\n\"And do you think, Madam, it is right for a daughter to talk against\nher own father?\"\n\n\"Why, to be sure, Sir, you now put a question which never struck me\nbefore.\"\n\n\"And do you think that a person of affluence and respectability\nsustains any loss of reputation by visiting the poor and afflicted?\"\n\n\"O, no, I have often thought of doing it myself; but really, Sir, I\ndon't know what I could say to them. I suppose it would be necessary\nto descend.\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam; the Lord of life and glory descended, when he assumed a\nhuman form to accomplish our redemption; but I rather fear, from the\ngeneral strain of your remarks, that you have no accurate conception\nof the design of his mission, or of his death.\"\n\n\"O dear, Sir, I wonder at your remark. He came to teach us to be\nreligious.\"\n\n\"And, Madam, the first lesson he has taught us is to this effect:\n'Verily, verily I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he\ncannot see the kingdom of God.'\"\n\n\"Do you know, Sir, I never could understand the meaning of that\nlanguage; and I have asked several of my friends, but they can't\ntell me; and one evening when I met the Rev. Mr. Cole at a card\nparty, I proposed the question to him, but he was so much engaged\nthat he could not attend to it.\"\n\n\"But you perceive, that unless we are born again, '_we cannot enter\ninto the kingdom of heaven_.' I can tell you who can explain it to\nyou.\"\n\n\"Who, Sir?\"\n\n\"The Rev. Mr. Ingleby.\"\n\n\"O dear, you alarm me. Do you think I could ever go and ask him?\"\n\n\"Would you then rather live and die ignorant of the meaning of the\nsubject, than go and ask him to explain it to you?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, if I were to be seen speaking to him, my friends would\ncut me, and I should never be able to appear at any of our social\nparties.\"\n\n\"But, Madam, it is a serious thing to die without possessing that\nwhich Jesus Christ says is absolutely necessary to fit us for\nheaven.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, I am not going to die yet.\"\n\n\"I hope not, Madam, but you must die, and must stand before the\njudgment-seat of Christ, and then do you think that a recollection\nof your card parties will afford you any pleasure?\"\n\n\"But I hope to prepare for death.\"\n\n\"Can you, Madam, prepare too soon, when you do not know but you may\ndie suddenly?\"\n\n\"O dear, Sir, the subject begins to depress me, and I must decline\npursuing it any farther, if you please.\"\n\n\"Read, Madam, before you retire to rest this evening, the third\nchapter of the gospel of John; ponder over what you read, it may do\nyou some spiritual good.\"\n\n\n\n\nSABBATH EVENING AT FAIRMOUNT.\n\n\nIn the estimation of Mr. Stevens, who was educated within the pale\nof the Church of England, and who had imbibed from his parents an\nintolerant spirit, the Dissenters were unworthy of the toleration\nwhich had been granted to them; as he believed they were decidedly\ninimical not only to the religious, but the political constitution\nof the state. Hence he often blamed the government for granting\nthem so much religious liberty. And even after he had felt the\nspiritual change, which forms the great line of distinction in the\nhuman character, he retained, for a long time, too many of his old\nprejudices against them. But, becoming an active agent of the Bible\nSociety, he was unexpectedly brought into contact with some whom\nhe found to be men of sense, of piety, of zeal, and of candour;\nmore disposed to disseminate the pure faith of Christianity, than\npropagate their own peculiar tenets. He now rose superior to his\nlong indulged antipathies; and though he still gave a decided\npreference to the church of which he was a member, yet he felt\nconvinced that there were many wise and good men belonging to other\nreligious communities. As he was by nature of an open and generous\ndisposition, the spirit of liberality found in his heart a congenial\nsoil for its growth and expansion. He would often repeat, with\npeculiar warmth of expression, the following verses:--\n\n    \"Be that bigotry far from our breast,\n         Which would Christian from Christian divide;\n     Which by blind party zeal is caress'd,\n         The offspring of folly and pride.\n\n    \"Names, parties, and sects disappear,\n         With their separate int'rests and laws,\n     No name, but of Christ, would we bear,\n         No int'rest but that of his cause.\"\n\nHappily for him, and for the neighbourhood in which he lived, his\npastor, the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, was a man of a most catholic spirit,\nwho viewed the circumstantial differences which prevail among\nChristians as of little consequence, in comparison with the more\nimportant truths on which they are agreed. _He felt a stronger\nattachment to the Redeemer_ than to the formula of the church of\nwhich he was a minister; and though he was a man of order, and\nconscientious in the observance of all ecclesiastical laws, yet\nhe thought that the Word of God ought not to be bound by human\nrestrictions.\n\nAs the population of the parish was large, and the gospel was\nnot preached within the distance of two miles from Mr. Stevens'\nvilla, he, at the suggestion of his amiable lady, conceived the\ndesign of building a small chapel in its immediate vicinity, for\na religious service on Sabbath evenings. He was aware that he\nshould subject himself to the sarcasms, if not to the contempt, of\nthe more fashionable and bigoted; but he esteemed the reproach of\nChrist a greater honour than the applause of men; and seeing the\npeople around him perishing for lack of the knowledge of the way of\nsalvation, he thought it his duty to do all in his power to make it\nknown to them. But he did not venture on the execution of his plan\ntill he had first consulted his pastor, who, instead of censuring\nhim for his zeal, or presuming to silence him _for not possessing\nthe mysterious charm of office, grace_, encouraged him to proceed.\n\"If,\" said the holy man, \"you can get the people to love the gospel\nin the evening, they will soon come to church to hear it in the\nmorning; and if they should be converted through the instrumentality\nof lay preaching, they will love the Saviour as much, and be at last\nas happy in heaven, as though the great change were produced through\nthe instrumentality of clerical preaching.\"\n\nThe chapel was built on an elevated spot of ground near the\nroadside, so that it was visible from the most populous parts of the\nhamlet; and though the building of it gave great offence to a few,\nyet it pleased the majority. At first, Mr. Stevens read a sermon to\nthe congregation; but after a while he composed discourses, which\nhe delivered extempore; and being a man of reading, and of a ready\nutterance, his labours gave very general satisfaction. Some of the\nthoughtless had become serious, and some of the dissipated had\nbecome religious, which he considered a satisfactory proof of the\nDivine blessing; and though he was much importuned by some of his\nfriends to abandon what they called _his wild project_, and resume\nhis more orderly habits of a regular churchman, yet he steadily\nrefused to do so. His reply to the gainsayer was, \"The love of\nChrist constraineth _me_.\"\n\n    \"Yes, and he reaps the fruit of all his toil,\n     He sows the seed, and God has bless'd the soil;\n     He sees the wicked man forsake his ways;\n     The scoffing tongue has learned to perfect praise;\n     The drunken quits his revelry and strife,\n     And meekly listens to the word of life;\n     The noisy village, wanton and profane,\n     Grows neat and decent, peace and order reign;\n     At length wide districts hail the gospel rays,\n     And the once savage miner kneels and prays;\n     Through his dark caverns shines the heavenly light,\n     And prejudice grows silent at the sight.\"\n\nOn the Sabbath evening we were at Fairmount, the Rev. Mr. Morris\nwas expected to preach a charity sermon for the school which was\nestablished and superintended by Mrs. Stevens. He came early in\nthe afternoon, and after tea, while he withdrew to prepare for\nthe pulpit, I retired for meditation; and in passing through the\nhall, my attention was arrested by a female, who was waiting with\nher little girl to see Mrs. Stevens. She informed me that her\nparents had never given her any religious instruction; that no one\never taught her to read the Scriptures, or keep holy the Sabbath\nday; and that, till recently, she had no expectation of living in\nanother world after death. When about eighteen years of age, having\nlost her father and mother, she married a soldier, who belonged\nto a foot regiment, and she was permitted to go with him to the\ncontinent. While sojourning among strangers, she was exposed to\nthe most extreme hardships; but her greatest trial was the death\nof her husband, who was killed just before the birth of her child.\nAfter his decease she returned to England, and settled in her native\nvillage; where, like the majority around her, she lived without God,\nwithout Christ, and without hope, till after the erection of the\nchapel. Having often felt the disadvantages of her inability to read\nor write, she resolved, if possible, to give her child an education;\nand as soon as she heard of the establishment of this school, she\napplied for her admission, and her request was granted. The children\nwere taught in the afternoon of the Sabbath, and they usually\nattended the public service in the evening, with their parents.\n\nOn one occasion Mr. Stevens addressed his rustic audience from the\nfollowing words: \"Come, see a man, which told me all things that\never I did: is not this the Christ?\" (John iv. 29). As he proceeded\nto unveil the hidden mysteries of the heart, the conscience of this\nwidow began to smite her; she could not imagine from what source he\nhad derived such an accurate knowledge of her character and history;\nshe felt self-condemned; and had it not been for the invitation\nwhich was given to the weary and heavy laden, to come to Jesus\nChrist, she must, to quote her own language, \"have gone home in\ndespair.\" But the wound was no sooner inflicted than it was healed;\nand though her views of the scheme of salvation were circumscribed,\nyet they were clear, and operated with so much force on her moral\ncharacter, that she was become a new creature in Christ Jesus.\n\nThus, while the sons of science pour contempt on the gospel as\nbeneath their notice, and the patrons of ecclesiastical order\ncondemn all departures from the restrictions and limitations of\nhuman authority, yet its history demonstrates that the God of all\ngrace will employ it as the means of converting sinners, even when\nit is preached by men who have not studied theology within the walls\nof a college, and also when it is preached in places which have not\nbeen invested with the charm of human consecration.\n\nFrom the garden in which I was walking I had an extensive view of\nthe surrounding country, and watched with peculiar delight the\npeople advancing in every direction towards the house of prayer. It\nindeed was a lovely sight! The old and the young, the healthy and\nthe infirm, the poor, and a few of the rich, were pressing onward,\nwith eagerness and decorum, apparently conscious that they were\ngoing to worship the Lord of hosts.\n\nThe children commenced the service by singing a hymn, composed for\nthe occasion; and such was the effect which it produced on the\ncrowded congregation, that many wept--not tears of grief, but of\njoy. The Rev. Mr. Morris preached a very judicious sermon, from the\nwords of Solomon: \"Train up a child in the way he should go: and\nwhen he is old, he will not depart from it\" (Prov. xxii. 6). When\nenforcing on parents the importance of training up their children\nin the way in which they should go, he said, \"You may be denied the\ngratification of seeing any immediate advantage resulting from your\nlabours; but you ought not, therefore, to conclude that they will\nprove useless. The religious principles which you instil into their\nminds may lie concealed for a long time without being destroyed, as\nthe seed which the husbandman casts in the ground remains inactive\ntill called forth into expansion and growth under a mild and genial\ninfluence. They may be striking root, and shooting up into active\nlife, at the time when you are despairing of ever reaping the\nreward of your labour.\" He illustrated and confirmed these remarks\nby a quotation taken from Cecil's _Remains_. \"Where,\" says Cecil,\n\"parental influence does not convert, it hampers. It hangs on the\nwheels of evil. I had a pious mother, who dropped things in my way.\nI could never rid myself of them. I was a professed infidel; but\nthen I liked to be an infidel in company, rather than when alone.\nI was wretched when by myself. These principles and maxims spoiled\nmy pleasure. With my companions I would sometimes stifle them; like\nembers, we kept one another warm. Besides, I was here a sort of a\nhero. I had beguiled several of my associates into my own opinions,\nand I had to maintain a character before them. But _I could not\ndivest myself_ of my better principles. I went with one of my\ncompanions to see the _Minor_; he could laugh heartily, but I could\nnot. The ridicule on regeneration was high sport to him--to me it\nwas none; it could not move my features. _He_ knew no difference\nbetween regeneration and transubstantiation. _I_ did. I knew there\nwas such a thing. I was afraid and ashamed to laugh at it. Parental\ninfluence thus cleaves to a man; it harasses him; it throws itself\ncontinually in his way.\"\n\nOn walking from the chapel, after the close of the service, I\novertook a gentleman, who confessed that he had been hostile to the\nbenevolent designs of Mr. Stevens, but that, in future, he would\nco-operate with him.\n\n\"And why, Sir,\" I asked, \"were you hostile to them?\"\n\n\"Because I did not understand them; and it is to this cause, I have\nno doubt, that we may attribute much of the opposition he has met\nwith.\"\n\n\"The world,\" I replied, \"is governed by prejudice, and not by\nreason; and hence, what is excellent and beneficial is often\ncondemned and often opposed, because prejudice has been excited\nagainst it by misrepresentation or misconception. Prejudice led\nNathaniel to exclaim, when the advent of the Saviour was announced\nto him, 'Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?' And prejudice\noften induces many, in modern times, to say, 'Can any good result\nfrom teaching children to read, or from preaching the truth in any\nother place than in a church?'\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" was the reply; \"and it is very difficult to dislodge\nprejudice after it has taken possession of the mind; for though\nthere are seasons when its absurdity is admitted, yet the dread\nof abandoning old opinions, which have received the sanction of\nages, and of adopting new ones, which are held in general contempt,\noperates with such force, that but few are courageous enough to\novercome it. The following lines of a modern poet may be thought\nsevere, but they are correct:--\n\n    'Though man a thinking being is defin'd,\n    Few use the grand prerogative of mind:\n    How few think justly of the thinking few!\n    How many never think, who think they do!\n    Opinion, therefore--such our mental dearth--\n    Depends on mere locality or birth.'\"\n\n\"True, Sir; but the few who burst the bonds of prejudice, and claim\nthe privilege of thinking, and judging, and acting for themselves,\nthough contemned and reproached by the multitude, are the pioneers\nof an adventurous and ever active benevolence, the ornaments and\nbenefactors of the age and the country in which they live. Suppose\nMr. Stevens had been held in subjection by the bigoted opinions of\nothers, the children who are now taught to fear God and honour man,\nwould be left to rise up in life without any accurate perceptions of\ntheir duties; and the village, which now enjoys the light of life,\nwould still be sitting in the shadow of death. He may be ridiculed\nfor his zeal, and reprobated for his irregularities as a member of\nthe Established Church; but can any one who believes the truth of\nthe Scripture, suppose that his conduct is displeasing to _Him_ who\nrequires all his disciples to do what they can to hasten the coming\nof His kingdom?\"\n\n\"I knew Mr. Stevens,\" said the stranger, \"when he was a man of\ngaiety and of pleasure, and I have known him since he has been a\nreligious man; and although unable to account for the amazing change\nwhich has been produced in him, yet I always gave him credit for\nmeaning well. Some religious people are ashamed of their principles,\nbut he has professed them openly; some contend for them in a rude,\ndogmatic, and antichristian manner, but he has displayed as much\namiability of temper as he has decision of conduct; and while many\nwhom I know have conformed as much as possible to the customs and\nhabits of the world to avoid its censures, he has uniformly paid\nas much respect to the preceptive parts of Christianity, as he has\ndiscovered zeal in the propagation of its doctrinal tenets. And it\nis this uniform consistency of conduct on his part, that induced me\nto attend the Union Chapel this evening, and I do not hesitate to\nsay that I have been gratified and instructed.\"\n\nWhen I reached Fairmount I had the pleasure of being introduced to\nMiss Roscoe, who had ventured, for the first time, to attend the\nchapel. This young lady united in her person the fascinations of\nbeauty with superior mental accomplishments; and though she would\noccasionally intermingle with the gay and the fashionable, and\nparticipate in their pleasures, yet she was more attached to reading\nand retirement. This disposition was cherished by her father, who\nwas a man of close study, and passionately fond of disputation. He\nwould sometimes relax from the ardour of intellectual pursuits, and\nenter into the amusements of the theatre, the ball-room, and the\ncard party, with energy and vivacity; but soon he would grow weary\nof such pastimes, and return to his more rational employments. He\nwas well read in history--a good botanist--had acquired an extensive\nknowledge of the science of geology--had studied Blackstone and Burn\nwith attention; but the largest portion of his time was devoted to\nthe investigation of the Scriptures. After Miss Roscoe had finished\nher education at a boarding-school, she pursued her studies under\nthe superintendence of her father, who was eminently qualified to\nenrich her mind with the treasures of knowledge and of wisdom.\nThus months and years rolled on in regular succession, with but few\nincidents of a painful nature, till He\n\n    \"Who waits his own well chosen hour,\n     Th' intended mercy to display,\"\n\ninflicted a wound in her heart, which was attended with an unusual\ndepression of spirit. She felt the stroke, but knew not from whence\nit came, nor could her father tell her who could heal it. He was\nadvised to try what effect a change of air and society would have\non her spirits; and hence he removed his family to Dawlish in\nDevonshire, where they spent the whole of the summer; but still her\nmorbid melancholy increased, and the physician recommended a visit\nto Bath for the winter, as the only expedient which was likely to\nprevent the entire loss of health, if not of her reason. Here she\nwas hurried, by the ardour of parental solicitude, into scenes of\ngaiety and amusement, which now had lost their charm; and though she\noften refused to go, saying that they could afford her no pleasure,\nyet, her reluctance being regarded as an inveterate symptom of her\ncomplaint, she was compelled to yield, till she frankly said, \"If\nyou wish me to regain my long-lost tranquillity, cease to force me\nwhere the gaiety of others increases my mental depression, and let\nme return home, that, in the retirement of solitude, I may find rest\nfrom the aggravating amusements of human gaiety and folly.\"\n\nMrs. Stevens, who was intimate with the family, and had held some\nreligious conversation with Miss Roscoe before she left home, made\na morning call on her return, when she found her alone. Referring\nto Doddridge's _Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul_, which\nshe had presented to her on a former occasion, she received a\nreply which gave her great pleasure; and, from some incidental\nexpressions, she was convinced that the cause of her depression\nlay in the deep recesses of her heart. She therefore suggested to\nher, as the only effectual means of its removal, a perusal of the\nScriptures. \"I once felt,\" she said, \"what you now feel, and though\nmy mental anguish was not so acute as yours, nor so overwhelming in\nits influence, yet I should have sunk under it, had it not been for\nthe consolations of mercy which I found in the Bible.\"\n\nThis communication, which was not less unexpected than the\nappearance of the angel of God to Hagar, as she sat in the solitude\nof maternal grief, mourning over her child in the agonies of\ndeath, raised the spirit of Miss Roscoe from beneath that load of\ndepression which was sinking her into despair, and she inquired,\nwith singular emphasis of expression:--\n\n\"And do you indeed think that the Bible will afford me any relief?\nI have not been permitted to see it since the commencement of my\nillness; but if you recommend it, I will peruse it.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear; that book, which a thoughtless world despises, is\nHeaven's best gift to man.\n\n    'I know and feel it is a blessed book;\n    And I remember how it stopp'd my tears\n    In days of former sorrow; like some herb\n    Of sov'reign virtue to a wound applied.'\"\n\n\"But,\" said Miss Roscoe, whose independent mind had not lost its\nintellectual vigour during the gloomy night of mental sadness, \"what\ndoes the Bible reveal, which is so peculiarly appropriate to me?\"\n\n\"It reveals a Saviour, who came into the world to save sinners.\"\n\n\"That truth I know, and I cannot banish it from my recollection; but\nI cannot perceive how the belief of it is calculated to bring back\nmy long-lost happiness.\"\n\n\"But, my dear, _if you did believe it_, in the scriptural\nacceptation of the term, it would not only remove the depression\nof your spirits, but raise you into a higher and a purer state of\nfelicity than that from whence you are fallen.\"\n\n\"I do believe it, and what more is required?\"\n\n\"What more, my dear Miss Roscoe? You should reduce your belief to\na practical operation, and, in the most simple and humble form of\nspeech, plead the merits of the Saviour's death for the remission\nof your sins, for peace of conscience, and for eternal life. 'For\nthrough Him we have access by one Spirit unto the Father.' You are\nunhappy, but know not the cause; and that morbid melancholy which\nhas destroyed your health, and laid waste the vivacity of your\nspirits, has hitherto set at defiance every expedient which you have\nemployed for its removal; but such is the mysterious efficacy of the\ndeath of Jesus Christ, _when the design of his death is perceived_,\nthat it makes the wounded spirit whole, and it calms the troubled\nbreast. The state of your mind is neither hopeless nor singular; and\nthough at present you may not be able to perceive how your mental\nanguish can issue in mental peace, yet, if you try the efficacy of\nprayer, you will see 'the darkened cloud withdraw;' and then you\nwill adore the grace which humbles to exalt, which impoverishes to\nenrich, and which renders our sources of earthly pleasure incapable\nof affording delight, that we may be compelled to derive our supreme\nfelicity from fellowship with the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ.\"\n\nThis intercourse led to an intimacy, which soon ripened into a\nstrong attachment; and that morbid melancholy, which had withstood\nthe rural charms of Dawlish, and the captivating amusements of Bath,\nbegan to give way under the religious communications of a friend,\nwho had often been ridiculed for her zeal, and sometimes reproached\nfor attempting to disturb the peace of those whose happiness she\nlived to promote.\n\nMr. and Mrs. Roscoe saw, with no ordinary emotions of delight, the\ndawning of serenity on the countenance of their beloved child, but\nknew not the cause till they accidentally saw her reading the Bible,\nwhich they had been recommended to keep from her. In the evening,\nas they were sitting together, Mr. Roscoe said, \"I think, my dear\nSophia, that you are regaining your former vivacity.\"\n\n\"I am more happy than I was, but not so happy as I wish to be.\"\n\n\"The light of bliss, I hope, my dear, is shining on you, but I fear\nlest it should again depart. You must be cautious what you read; and\nif you will permit me to offer you my advice, I would recommend you\n_light reading, which, I think, would just now have a good effect_.\"\n\n\"I thank you, my dear father, for your advice, but such reading\nwould bring back the gloom which the light of revealed truth is\nscattering from around my mind. There is no book which I read with\nso much pleasure as the Bible.\"\n\n\"The Bible contains much important history; it abounds with\ninteresting narratives; it makes us familiar with the customs of\nancient times, and supplies us with some inimitable specimens of\ngood composition; but I would advise you not to read the Epistles\nof the New Testament, lest they should perplex and bewilder you,\nand lead you off into a state of mental distraction, which no human\nskill would be able to control or subdue.\"\n\n\"You know, my dear father, that no human skill has been able to\ncontrol or remove that fixed melancholy under which I have been\nlabouring for nine months; but I feel now greatly relieved from\nit; and I assure you that it is the perusal of that portion of the\nScripture which you wish me to avoid, to which I attribute, under\nthe blessing of God, the delightful change which has taken place in\nthe state and frame of my mind.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIBLE DISDAINED.\n\n\nAs it was a very fine evening, I resolved on taking my usual walk,\nand sallied forth, sauntering along, undecided where to go, till I\ncame within sight of the towering hill overlooking the woodman's\ncottage. \"Yes, I will go and see the surviving mourners. They are\ndoubtless still in trouble; but the heavy swell of grief may have\nsubsided a little, now that all that remained of their lovely\nJemima[3] is in the grave.\" The rich scenery through which I was\npassing supplied me with ample and varied materials for thinking;\nbut my thinking faculty felt more inclined to muse on death and\nimmortality than on trees or flowers, on bleating sheep, or on\nlowing cattle.\n\n  [3] See p. 106.\n\nYes, man dies; but he still lives. He passes from one locality and\ncondition of existence to another. He will never die again. No, his\nnext life is endless. If saved, what varied and splendid forms of\nbeauty and of grandeur will open on his vision the moment he passes\nthe dark frontier that divides the visible from the unseen world!\nWhat sounds of harmony, coming from the pure and happy spirits of\nthe celestial state, will vibrate on his ear! What ecstasy will he\nfeel when presented faultless before the glorious presence of the\nDivine Majesty! If lost!--Woe, woe, woe! My heart recoils from a\ncontemplation of his fearful and changeless destiny.\n\nOn entering the cottage I saw a stranger, in the costume of a\ngentleman, polite and accomplished; but there was an air of\nmannerism about him uncongenial to my taste. The woodman and his\nwife were glad to see me, and after making a few faint allusions\nto the mournful event which had recently occurred, they relapsed\ninto expressive silence, which induced me to suppose that my abrupt\nappearance had interrupted some conversation or discussion. At\nlength, after a little desultory and somewhat forced chit-chat, the\nwoodman, who appeared rather singularly excited, addressing himself\nto the stranger, said, \"There is, Sir, one evidence that the Bible\ncomes from God, which gives to me and my wife entire satisfaction,\nand against which no objection can be brought that can stagger or\nweaken our faith.\"\n\n\"These good people,\" said the stranger, turning towards me, \"appear\nnot to have perplexities enough in the casualties and contingencies\nof life, and therefore they are perplexing themselves by the\nmysteries of the Bible.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" said the wife, \"just as we should perplex ourselves if\nan old and endeared friend looked in to see us, bringing with him\nsome good news. We certainly might feel a little perplexed about\nthe accommodation we could give him, but none on account of his\ncoming to see us, or the good news he brings; that would be a matter\nof rejoicing.\"\n\n\"I admire the happy art you possess to give a good turn to an\nobjectionable observation. Well, Mr. Woodman, let me hear what this\nevidence is, which gives to you both so much satisfaction, and which\nyou think no objection can set aside. I see,\" taking out his watch\nas he spoke, \"I must soon go.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, it is just this: when reading my Bible, I cannot help\nthinking of myself--my condition as a sinful and an immortal\nbeing--of my last end--of God, his goodness in providence, but his\nstill greater goodness in making such grand provision, through the\nredemption of Christ, for my present and future happiness. These\nthinkings awaken in my soul gratitude, and love, and filial trust in\nHim, and constrain me to surrender my soul to Him, through Christ,\nto be redeemed, sanctified, and saved. Now, Sir, as the road which\nleads _to_ your mansion must lead _from_ it, so I think that the\nBible, which _leads us to God_, as our father and our best friend,\n_must come from Him_.\"\n\n\"Well, my good fellow,\" rising, and taking him by the hand, \"perhaps\nit would do you no good if I were to attempt to disturb you while\nreposing with so much satisfaction in your innocent delusions.\"\n\n\"You have, Sir, been trying to do it for the last hour and a half,\"\nsaid the wife, with a marked emphasis of severe rebuke, \"and without\ndirecting us to any other source of comfort under our troubles. We\nhave just lost one of our dear children; but the Bible reconciles me\nto that loss, by telling me that my child is now happy in heaven;\nbut you have been trying to make us believe that this is a delusion.\nWhy, Sir, you would, if in your power, do us a greater act of\ncruelty than Captain Dunlop, who lives in yon big house, attempted\nto do to us last autumn.\"\n\n\"I would scorn to commit an act of cruelty against any one,\nespecially against you, who have behaved with so much civility to\nme. But what act of cruelty did the Captain meditate committing\nagainst you?\"\n\n\"You see, Sir, that little running brook which feeds the watercress\nyou have just relished so much. Well, the Captain, last autumn,\ncut a deep channel for it to run through the glen, in an opposite\ndirection, but Squire Stevens interfered, and prevented him. Now,\nSir, if he had done what he was going to do, he would have taken\nfrom us our stream of water. But, even then, by raising a little\nsubscription amongst our neighbours, we might perhaps have sunk a\nwell, and though the water might not be so good or so plentiful, yet\nit might have answered our purpose. But, Sir, if you take away our\nBible, or, what is the same thing, if you were to destroy our belief\nin its inspiration and authority, you would take from us the rich\nflow of comfort it supplies to us in our troubles, and you would cut\nus off from the hope of future happiness. Now, if you had succeeded\nin your endeavours, your visit would be to us as great a curse as\nthe visit of the devil was to our first parents in Eden.\"\n\n\"You are, indeed, eloquently ingenious. Well, the next time I come I\nwon't say anything against your Bible.\"\n\n\"I hope not, Sir,\" said the honest woodman, who appeared much\npleased with the smart reproof his wife had administered to this\nstranger; \"for if you do, we shall then say at once, what I now\nsay after long endurance, we would rather have your room than your\ncompany. I think, Sir, such gentlemen as you should keep within the\ncompass of your own sceptical fraternity, and then you may say what\nyou please, and perhaps not do much harm. But when you enter the\ncottage of the poor, and find them happy in God, and thankful to Him\nfor their Bible, you ought to feel it _a point of honour_ not to try\nto steal away their happiness; as I suppose you have too much honour\nto pocket any spoons when you go away from a rich man's house.\"\n\nI listened with amazement and delight to the artless defence and\nsevere rebuke of the woodman and his wife, and addressing them,\nsaid, \"I am happy to hear you administer such a severe and just\nrebuke to this gentleman; and which, Sir,\" turning towards him,\n\"I hope you will feel at the core of your heart, and that it will\nprevent your repeating elsewhere the act of meanness of which you\nhave been guilty here--stealing a poor man's Bible, while eating his\nbread and cheese.\"\n\n\"Do you, Sir, mean to insult me? I allow no one to do that with\nimpunity.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Sir! If speaking the truth, in a tone and style in which it\nought to be spoken to a man in the attire and with the appearance of\na gentleman, who enters a poor man's cottage, and, while feasting at\nhis table, is mean enough to try to destroy his faith in his Bible,\nwhich is the well-spring of his happiness, be regarded by you as\nan insult, why, then, there is no alternative but to feel yourself\ninsulted.\"\n\nHe looked, but said no more, and tossing, rather unceremoniously, a\nhalf-crown piece on the table for the refreshment he had received,\nhe left in high dudgeon, muttering to himself as he moved away.\n\n\"These infidels, Sir,\" said the woodman, \"in one thing are like the\nPharisees of the New Testament; they won't go into the kingdom of\nheaven themselves, and they want to prevent others going there if\nthey can. He began his infidel remarks before my children, but I\nsent them away, and told him that I would not let a child, if I knew\nit, get near an infected person.\"\n\n\"I suppose you don't often meet with infidels.\"\n\n\"More often, Sir, than I wish; for I generally find they are bad\nmen--some bad in their habits, and all bad in their principles. The\nhigh-priest of their order lives up in yonder mansion, and he has\nmany visitors. He used to come to our cottage sometimes, but he does\nnot come now, as I offended him one day, by telling him that it was\nan act of meanness, as well as injustice, to try to cut off the\nstream of water from the poor families that live near it, for some\nmiles in its course, and doing it to enrich his own meadows.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said his wife, \"we should pity them, and pray for them,\nand bless the Lord for making us to differ. It often pains my heart\nto think of a person living a few years in wealth and honour, and\nthen passing into the eternal world to perish for ever. We have many\ntroubles, yet some comforts. There, Sir,\" pointing to her Bible, \"is\nour grand comforter; its precious promises speak peace to the soul,\nand take our hopes onwards to a better world, where the weary will\nenjoy rest for ever.\"\n\nI read the fourth chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Thessalonians,\nmaking a few comments on its last verse, adapted to the excited\nstate of feeling occasioned by the death and burial of their little\nJemima; and, after praying with them, I withdrew, yet promising to\nrepeat my visit before my departure from Fairmount.\n\nOn getting over the stile which crossed my pathway about half-a-mile\nfrom the cottage, I saw the infidel standing where I had seen Mr.\nGordon standing on a preceding Saturday evening; and though at first\nI thought he was waiting for me, yet I soon perceived that he was\nadmiring the grand panoramic view which was visible from that spot.\nI passed within a few yards of him, and in the act of passing we\nexchanged a bow of recognition.\n\n\"It appears, Sir,\" he said, \"that we are going in the same\ndirection, and, if agreeable, I will walk with you.\"\n\nI at once consented, thinking that I might have an opportunity of\nmaking an assault on his scepticism, which possibly might issue in\nsome practical good.\n\n\"You were rather too severe upon me in the cottage.\"\n\n\"If I thought so, Sir, I would offer you an apology; but my few\nremarks, though severe, were, I think, just.\"\n\n\"Well, well, perhaps I did wrong. But the fact is, I found both the\nwoodman and his wife so shrewd and intelligent, that, on hearing\nthem make some impassioned allusions to the Bible, I thought they\nwould appreciate some remarks tending, at least in my opinion, to\ncounteract the terrible impression of fear and dread which a belief\nin the inspiration and authority of the Bible necessarily calls up\nand fixes in the heart.\"\n\n\"But you see it inspires no fear in them; it is not to them the\nhaunting ghost of terror, but a domestic comforter.\"\n\n\"Well, I can't account for it; I wonder how any one who believes in\nthe Bible, which speaks of hell and endless misery, can sleep calmly\non his pillow. I suppose they must believe one part, and disbelieve\nthe other.\"\n\n\"No, Sir, it is because their belief in one part inspires confidence\nin the love and faithfulness of God their Saviour, they can believe\nthe other part without dread or fear.\"\n\n\"I presume you are a firm believer in the Bible.\"\n\n\"I am, Sir.\"\n\n\"May I be permitted to ask you what is the predominant impression it\nmakes on your mind--terror or tranquil peace?\"\n\n\"If I were to say that it never awakened an emotion of terror, I\nshould not speak strictly correct. When I have reflected on sin, its\nessentially evil nature and tendency; on my own sins, their number\nand peculiar aggravations; on the Divine purity and justice; and on\nthe tremendous visitations of punishment which have been, and still\nare inflicted on man, both in this world and in the world to come, I\nhave felt a tumult of terror agitating my soul, of a fearful aspect.\nBut, Sir, my faith sees one in the midst of the storm, whose eye\nis pity, and whose arm is power; and my prayer is, _Lord save or I\nperish_. He hears and he answers this prayer.\"\n\n\"But how do you know that he hears and answers your prayers?\"\n\n\"Because my dark forebodings cease, and there is a calm within, as\nthere was a great calm on the Lake of Galilee when our Lord rebuked\nthe winds and the sea.\"\n\n\"Were you trained, Sir, to a belief in the Bible?\"\n\n\"I once rejected the Bible as a book of fables or falsehoods.\"\n\n\"You, then, were once what I am now--an unbeliever; and I was once\nwhat you are now--a believer. How the human character changes as\ntime moves slowly on, to bring out the great teacher, death, who\nwill finally settle everything.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, and for ever.\"\n\n\"What awful sublimity in that short sentence--_yes, and for ever_.\nThe subject of our conversation interests me, as I have heard that\nprisoners committed for capital offences sometimes evince a peculiar\nintensity of emotion when listening to the mock process of a trial;\nthe rehearsal of the coming tragedy pleases them. But to return to\nour subject, may I be permitted to ask you whether you now live\nhabitually free from terror?\"\n\n\"I do, Sir.\"\n\n\"Never calculate on being damned for ever?\"\n\n\"Never.\"\n\n\"And you can sleep as calmly on your pillow, with the Bible by\nyour side, as you could if you believed the dark world of hell had\nvanished into air--gone out of existence for ever?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, I can.\"\n\n\"This, Sir, is to me inexplicably marvellous. I wonder how any one,\nwho believes in the Divine authority of the Bible, can ever look at\nit without feeling terrified, as children feel when going into a\ndark room, after listening to a series of fearful ghost stories.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, the very design of the Christian revelation, given to\nus in the Bible, is not only to deliver us from the wrath to come,\n_but from the dread of it_. And this it does, when we believe in its\nDivine origin, and yield to its authority.\"\n\n\"I was a believer once, and fond of theological studies; but the\npredominant influence of my faith was most oppressive, at times\nagonizing. I could never rise above terror; the dread of being lost\nfor ever haunted me almost day and night.\"\n\n\"If you watched the mental process which was going on during the\ntime you were a believer in the Bible, and can now distinctly\nrecollect it, perhaps you will perceive there was one great act you\nfailed to perform, which is the testing and the decisive act of a\ngenuine believer--the passing of the Rubicon.\"\n\n\"To what act do you refer?\"\n\n\"To the act of coming to Jesus Christ, in compliance with his own\ninvitation and promise--'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are\nheavy laden, and I will give you rest' (Matt. xi. 28). '_Him that\ncometh to me I will in no wise cast out_'\" (John vi. 37).\n\n\"Yes, Sir, I recollect having my eye often fixed on the two\nverses you have quoted, and others which speak of coming to him\nfor life, and to be saved; but a veil of mystery hung over them\nwhich I could not lift up. I had the loftiest conceptions of his\nsuperhuman greatness and goodness; the fine blending of majesty\nand meekness, of dignity and condescension in his character,\nawakened my admiration; his pity, his love, his spotless purity,\nawed and delighted me; and I often felt indignant--a real loathing\nof spirit--when reflecting on the brutal treatment he met with\nfrom his countrymen; but I never could make out, from anything\nI read in the New Testament, how he could stand in the relation\nof a Saviour to me, or how I could perform that act of coming to\nhim, on which he places the issue of salvation. And this is the\norigin of my unbelief. I had no wish to become an unbeliever; I\nbecame one against my inclination, and in opposition to early, and\nlong-cherished, and endeared associations; but necessity compelled\nme; because, after long and intense thinking, I found that the\nproferred blessing of salvation was placed on an impracticable and\nan impossible contingency. Nor have I, as yet, had cause to regret\nit. I now can live without dread of the future; and I have no doubt,\nif there be another state of existence for man, as I feel inclined\nto believe there is, it will be one of happiness, to compensate for\nthe sorrows and miseries which are endured in this.\"\n\n\"But suppose others have been enabled to perform this act of coming\nto Jesus Christ; and suppose, by performing it, they have entered\ninto the actual possession of peace and joy in believing, then I\nthink you must admit that the contingency on which the proferred\nblessing of salvation is suspended, comes within the capabilities of\nthe human mind, and what others have done _you might have done, and\nyet may live to do_. By your permission I will give you a paragraph,\nas it bears so closely on the subject of our conversation, which\none of the most distinguished men of the present age addressed to\na philosophical friend. The writer had been for years a believer\nin the Divine origin of the Christian faith, but up to this period\nin his moral history, it was to him a system of abstract truths,\nwhich made no approaches to his heart, to engage his affections,\nor to influence his will. But by a succession of impulses and\nimpressions, and new discoveries of his inner spirit, he began to\nfeel restless--some degree of alarm, in fact, that he stood in need\nof a Saviour; and by reading the Bible with close attention, he\nfound that Jesus Christ, who up to this time had moved in dim vision\nbefore his imagination, as an ideal or a mere historical being, was\na living being, and just such a living being as he needed--one who\ncould save him from his fears, and who alone could save him. The\ncrisis in his moral history now arrived, and he says: '_I sicken at\nmy own imperfect preparations. I take one decisive and immediate\nstep, and resign my all to the sufficiency of my Saviour_. _I plead\nhis own promise, that him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast\nout. I come to him with my heart, such as it is, and I pray that the\noperation of his Spirit, and the power of his sanctifying faith,\nwould make it such as it should be._' This is the experience and\ntestimony of Dr. Chalmers, who tells us that after he thus believed\nand trusted in Christ, he had 'joyful moments;' he walked with God,\nliving in the habitual expectation of eternal life.\"\n\n\"If, Sir, I now entertained the same belief in the truthfulness\nof the Bible which I once entertained, and which, without doubt,\nDr. Chalmers entertained when he wrote to his friend the paragraph\nwhich you have just given to me, I should feel strongly inclined\nto attribute the predominancy of fear and dread over hope and\npeace, under which I ceaselessly suffered, to some defective view\nof revealed truth, or to some shortcoming in the mysterious act\nof mental obedience to a Divine requisition; but, to be candid, I\ncannot now look on the Bible with that degree of reverence I once\ndid, and for many grave reasons. I have detected in it so many\npalpable errors, and so many irreconcilable discrepancies, that I\ncannot now receive it as a genuine and authentic revelation of the\nDeity.\"\n\n\"But neither errors nor discrepancies have ever been considered,\nby fair and impartial critics, as decisive evidence against the\ngenuineness or authenticity of an ancient book; as errors, by\ncareful collation, may be corrected, and discrepancies adjusted, as\nour knowledge becomes more accurate and extended. And this has been\ndone in reference to the Bible, by many whose learning and integrity\nstamp a sterling worth on the result of their labours.\"\n\n\"I know, Sir, many men of learning, of taste, and of dogged honesty,\nwho are staunch believers in the Bible, and candour compels me to\nadmit that they have, to their own satisfaction, corrected the\nerrors and harmonized the discrepancies which stagger my faith; and,\nperhaps, if I were to adopt the same process of labour, I might be\nequally successful; but I do not now see the necessity of it. I have\narrived at a point of discovery which yields me as much satisfaction\nas you can feel in the discoveries which the Bible makes to you. I\ncan feel, without such auxiliary aid, a calm repose in the sympathy\nof God with individual man, and a delight in meditating on his\ngrandeur and his goodness, which, I think, cannot be surpassed by\nany emotion which the strongest faith in the promises of the Bible\ncan inspire.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, how can you know that he feels sympathy for individual\nman, unless he tells you so?\"\n\n\"I believe he does.\"\n\n\"But on what evidence do you base your belief? Because, to believe\nwithout evidence, would be as absurd as to withhold belief from\npreponderating evidence would be reprehensible.\"\n\n\"I infer it, from the very obvious marks of _benevolent design_\nwhich are apparent through the whole range of creation.\"\n\n\"I will not dispute this point; but permit me to ask you whether,\nin your belief, his sympathy is a species of refined sentimental\nemotion for his own gratification, or a practical manifestation of\nsustaining and consoling influence; and whether he sympathizes with\n_every individual man_ who needs his sympathy, _or only a select\nportion_ of the great family of suffering humanity?\"\n\n\"Before I reply to your questions, may I ask if you have any doubt\non the question of his sympathy for individual man?\"\n\n\"I have no doubt on the question of his sympathy and loving-kindness\nin behalf of those who confide in him, and who love him, because\nmy Bible tells me so; but there is an ambiguity in your form\nof expression, which, in my judgment, involves a self-evident\ncontradiction, and this is why I have asked for a clear\nexplanation--ambiguity in reasoning being something like a sudden\neclipse, which wraps everything in total darkness.\"\n\n\"In my theory, Sir, there is no selection--nothing like that\nundercurrent of partiality which runs through the Bible; all are\ntreated alike, standing on the same level; and hence my expression,\nhe sympathizes with individual man, means _every man_.\"\n\n\"And you believe this, without his telling you that he does cherish\na _practical_ sympathy for every man.\"\n\n\"I infer it, Sir, and from what I consider an infallible data--the\nobvious marks of benevolent design, which I can trace through the\nwhole range of the visible creation.\"\n\n\"I admit your data, but object to your inference, because uniform\nexperience decides the fact that all men do not stand on the same\nlevel, nor are they treated alike; for we cannot look in any\ndirection without seeing inequality. I am not going, Sir, to inquire\ninto the causes of this inequality of rank, of personal and of\nsocial condition, which is so obviously apparent, as that would\nraise many questions which we should not have time to discuss, but\nsimply to notice the fact of inequality, which your proposition\nvirtually denies. Look, for example, at yon princely mansion,\nand then think of the cottage where we first met. Compare the\nathletic frame of its wealthy occupier and his hale appearance,\nwith an emaciated human being, whose life is pining away under a\nprolonged disease. Are all treated alike, and do all stand on the\nsame level, under his administrative providence? No, Sir, there are\ntowering mountains, rich in golden ore, and desert wastes, where\nthe mower filleth not his hand, nor he that bindeth sheaves his\nbosom. And if, Sir, he sympathizes with every man, in the sense\nwhich we attach to the term, it must be sentimental; facts prove\nthat it is not practical--the mere sympathy of the humane judge\nfor prisoners, when leaving the dock under the sentence of death,\nor that of the tender-hearted physician in a ward of incurables.\nGo into an hospital, a prison, a poor-house, or a cottage, where\nits inmate is dying under prolonged and acute disease; visit the\nhabitation of a broken-down tradesman, whose children are crying\nfor food, while he has none to give them; pass on to the field of\nbattle, after the work of slaughter is over, and mingle amongst the\nwounded; or go on board the slave ship, and look into her hold, as\nshe moves through the middle passage, between the land of freedom\nand the land of perpetual bondage; and what _practical_ proof will\nyou find, in any of these retreats of suffering humanity, that\nGOD SYMPATHIZES WITH EVERY MAN? You talk of the discrepancies of\nthe Bible, and argue that they are a proof that it comes not from\nGod. But what a terribly perplexing and appalling discrepancy do\nyou open up between his character as a benevolent being, and his\nadministrative providence? Follow out your course of reasoning, and\nthen, to act consistently, you must become an atheist, and compelled\nto admit into your creed not only improbabilities, but absolute\nimpossibilities.\"\n\n\"Well, I will admit that when we come into real, practical life, we\nare compelled to modify, if not to give up as indefensible, some\nof our speculative opinions. In fact, the issue of every inquiry,\nwhen fearlessly pursued, is uncertainty--painful, distracting\nuncertainty--and man becomes the sport, if not the victim, of his\nown speculations and investigations.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, when he will not condescend to be taught of God. If\nwe admit the inspiration, and consequent authority of the Bible,\nwe have an infallible teacher on all questions relating to our\nresponsibilities and our final destiny, and the mind settles down\ninto a state of quietude, and feels secure; but if we reject its\ninspiration and authority as a sham, or a dogma of superstition,\nwe go adrift on the wide expanse of absolute uncertainty, and are\nleft to perish, when, and where, and how we know not, till after the\nterrible catastrophe has occurred.\"\n\nThere was now a pause in our discussion; and within the space of\na few minutes, a little dark cloud, like that which was seen by\nthe prophet's servants from the heights of Carmel, overspread the\nheavens, and we were compelled to look for a place of refuge from\nthe storm which was coming.\n\n\"I am going to see a poor woman, who lives in yon cottage; perhaps\nyou will not object to accompany me; we shall find shelter there.\"\n\n\"Most willingly, and if she be a deserving object, I shall feel most\nhappy to contribute a mite for her relief; _for your sake, Sir_.\"\n\n\"I thank you. Sir, for the personal compliment; and I doubt not but\nshe will be thankful for your charitable donation, for she is very\npoor.\"\n\n\"To be candid, Sir, I like practical sympathy better than\nsentimental; the one is a reality, the other a sham or a mawkish\nemotion, little less than a self-compliment to a refined but useless\nsensibility--something which excites the sentimentalism of a\ndrawing-room, when we are looking on the print of an hospital or the\nwreck of a vessel hanging on the wall, but which gives no relief to\na rescued sailor, or a discharged incurable.\"\n\nThe poor inmate (Mrs. Allen) was seated in her chair, wrapped in\nflannel, and supported by pillows, her appearance plainly indicating\nthat she was near death. She smiled on seeing me, but on seeing the\nstranger she became a little disconcerted, yet, with polite ease,\nshe moved her hands towards two chairs, and said, \"Gentlemen, be\nseated.\"\n\n\"You appear,\" said Mr. Tennent, \"very ill.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, but I believe my life of suffering will soon end, and\nthen all will be well--_and for ever_.\"\n\n\"I suppose you hope to go to heaven when you die?\"\n\n\"I have no doubt of it, Sir.\"\n\n\"But as your Bible speaks of hell and eternal misery, don't you\nsometimes fear going there when you die?\"\n\n\"I did once, Sir.\"\n\n\"And why not now?\"\n\n\"Because my dear Saviour says, 'Come unto me, and I will give you\nrest.' I have come to him, and do come to him daily and hourly,\nand he has fulfilled his promise, and given me rest of soul, as an\nearnest of everlasting rest, and peace, and joy.\"\n\n\"Then you have no fear in prospect of going into the great invisible\nworld.\"\n\n\"No, Sir; and I long for the hour to come when I shall depart and\nbe with Christ. I saw him in the visions of the night, when deep\nsleep had fallen upon me, and he appeared in glory, as when he was\ntransfigured on Tabor.\"\n\n\"Do you place much dependence on dreams?\"\n\n\"I place dependence on nothing, Sir, but the exceeding great and\nprecious promises of my Bible; but it is delightsome to have, in\nthe visions of the night, the re-appearance of day-thoughts and\nmeditations; it is often then, from some cause which I cannot\nexplain, they are clothed in a more visible and substantial form.\"\n\n\"Now, Mrs. Allen, one more question, and I have done. Do you think\nit possible for any argument to convince you that Jesus Christ is\nnot a real being, only an imaginary one?\"\n\n\"Do you, Sir, think it possible for any argument to convince you\nthat you are not a real being, or that we are not all real beings,\nonly imaginary ones. The one thing is just about as likely to be\ndone as the other, and just about as easy.\"\n\nI read part of the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John, making\na few remarks on what I read, and then went to pray with her, Mr.\nTennent, from a sense of politeness, if not from a superior reason,\nkneeling with me before the throne of mercy. As the storm was now\nabated, and the evening far spent, we left her; but, on shaking\nhands with her, Mr. Tennent gave her a sovereign.\n\nWe walked away in silence, but at length he said, \"Well, Sir, if\nyour religion be, what unbelievers say it is, an invention, it is\na very soothing and inspiring one. On such an occasion as this we\ncannot help wishing it to be real, even if we can't believe it to be\nso.\"\n\n\"You see, Sir, it answers all the purposes of a reality at the great\ncrisis in the history of human life.\"\n\nWhen we came to the cross-road where we were to leave each other, he\nsaid, \"Do you, Sir, remain at Fairmount much longer?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, for some weeks.\"\n\n\"I should like another interview, if I may be permitted to solicit\nsuch a favour.\"\n\nWe engaged to meet on the following Saturday evening, but we were\nprevented. Towards the latter end of the ensuing week, I received\nthe subjoined note from him, which was brought by Captain Dunlop's\ngardener, who informed us that his master was just dead:--\n\n\"DEAR SIR,--Before you receive this, I shall have left. What a\ncontrast have I witnessed between the cottage and the mansion! What\nI have _seen_ and _heard_ during this visit will never pass from\nmy memory. If I could believe in the efficacy of prayer, I should\nsay, _pray for me_. We may never meet again, but should the Bible\never be in later life as precious to me as it was before infidelity\ncorrupted my heart, you shall hear from me.--Yours faithfully,\n\n  \"GEORGE TENNENT.\"\n\nWe had heard of the Captain's illness, at whose mansion Mr. Tennent\nhad been on a visit; but the announcement of his death startled and\ndepressed us.\n\n\"Why, gardener, your master's death has been very sudden.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, he wasn't ill more than five days.\"\n\n\"What was the nature of his disease?\"\n\n\"Inflammation of the bowels, so I heard my wife say.\"\n\n\"Did any clergyman visit him during his illness?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, no one was with him but my wife, he was mainly fond of\nher, and she nursed him, and gave him his physic, and didn't leave\nhim, night or day, till he left us all for t'other world.\"\n\n\"I believe, gardener, he was an infidel, and did not believe in the\nexistence of another world.\"\n\n\"It happened to him, Sir, as it has happened to others before him;\nwhen death got near him his infidelity forsook him, and then his\nbelief of another world was as strong as the apostle Paul's, so I\nheard my wife say.\"\n\n\"Do you know how he felt in the prospect of dying?\"\n\n\"I heard my wife say it was a dismal scene. She trembled at night\nwhen she was left by herself with him.\"\n\n\"Do you know if Mr. Tennent saw him during his illness?\"\n\n\"I heard my wife say that he saw him once, and they had high words.\"\n\n\"You don't mean they quarrelled.\"\n\n\"Why, no, Sir, not exactly that, but I heard my wife say that when\nMr. Tennent went into his room one morning, just after breakfast,\nmaster said to him, _you see, Tennent, what you and your infidelity\nhas done for me_. _I shall go down in this storm, and be lost._ Mr.\nTennent said something in reply, so I heard my wife say, but I can't\nmind what, for I have been in a power of trouble since master's\ndeath, for he was a good master to me. He never went into the room\nafter that morning, so I heard my wife say.\"\n\n\"Do you know if he had any hope of salvation before he died?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, I don't think he had. I heard my wife say that master said\nnext to nothing all along through his sickness, but that one awful\nsaying, _I shall go down in this storm, and be lost_. He said that,\nSir, so I heard my wife say, just as he was a-dying. My wife is in\nsore trouble about master's soul, for he was a good master to her. I\ntell you what, Sir, this infidelity is a bad thing. It makes people\nbold in wickedness and contempt of God when they are in health,\nbut their courage leaves them when death comes. They are desperate\ncowards then.\"\n\n\"Well, gardener, I hope it will be a warning to you.\"\n\n\"I hope, Sir, you don't think that I be an infidel. No, Sir, I love\nmy Bible, and so does my wife. An infidel! no, Sir; and I often\ntold master he would repent of it some day. I can't, Sir, get the\nterrible words out of my ears--I shall go down in this storm, and\nbe lost. In that storm master did go down. Good night, Sir; it's too\nawful to think about.\"\n\nThe funeral was conducted with great pomp; and when passing the\ngardener's cottage some days afterwards, I stepped in and saw his\nwife, who was in mourning for her late master. After a few leading\ninquiries, I got her to tell me what passed when Mr. Tennent went to\nsee his dying friend.\n\n\"I don't mind all, Sir, but master said to him, you see Tennent,\nwhat you and your infidelity has done for me. He then said something\nabout praying to Jesus Christ to save him, when master said to him,\nwhy, how can I do that, when you have taught me to reject Him as an\nimpostor? I loved my Bible till I knew you; you made me ridicule it.\nMr. Tennent then went out of the room in anger, and never came back.\nI felt for my poor master. It was very sad to see him go out of one\nworld into another, and hear him say, just as he was going, I shall\ngo down in this storm, and be lost. I have had no sound sleep since.\nI can't get the frightful words out of my ears. I am always dreaming\nabout a boat turned over in a fearful storm, and master sinking in\nthe great lake.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIBLE PRECIOUS.\n\n\nSome few years after my interview with Mr. Tennent, and when its\nvivid impressions had nearly faded from my recollection, I received\nthe following letter, which I read with intense delight:--\n\n\"MY DEAR SIR,--It is possible that you may have forgotten me long\nsince; but a slight reference to the remarkable incidents connected\nwith our interview, will probably bring me to your remembrance. We\nmet on a Saturday evening, in a woodman's cottage, at Broadhurst;\nwe afterwards knelt together in the cottage of a poor woman, who,\ndoubtless, has passed into a happier world long ere now. We parted\nunder an arrangement to meet again; but the sudden illness and death\nof my old friend, Captain Dunlop, with whom I was then staying,\ncompelled me to leave his house rather abruptly. In a note which\nI sent to you I remember saying, that if the Bible should ever be\nagain as precious to me as it once was, you should hear from me. And\nnow I redeem my pledge, which you will be kind enough to accept as\nmy apology for obtruding this letter upon you.\n\n\"When we met in the woodman's cottage I was a proud sceptic,\nlooking with haughty disdain and contempt on every one, illiterate\nor intelligent, who professed a belief in the authority of the\nBible. But what I heard and saw that never-to-be-forgotten Saturday\nevening, and subsequently in the death chamber of my old friend, was\nlike the shock of an earthquake; it shook my sceptical opinions from\ntheir foundation, and so scattered them, that I never afterwards\ncould gather them up, nor did I ever make an effort or feel an\ninclination so to do. The sweet calm of the poor woman's cottage,\nwhen placed in contrast with the terrific storm of the mansion--the\nassurance of the poor woman that she was going to heaven, and the\nequally strong assurance of my old friend, Captain Dunlop, that he\nwas going to hell--were so strongly imprinted on my imagination,\nthat they followed me day and night. I grew sick of life, and more\nthan once was strongly tempted to hasten on a doom which I thought\ninevitable, and which at times I longed to have decided and settled\nfor ever. I dared not enter a church; the sight of a Bible had the\nsame effect on my nervous sensibility which we may suppose the\nre-appearance of a murdered man would have on the living monster\nwho took away his life; and when in company, if religion became the\nsubject of discussion, I felt interdicted from taking any part,\neither for or against it. This painful state of mind continued\nfor more than two years; there was at times a lull in the storm of\nanguish; but after a while it came back with still greater fury,\nand, like my departed friend, I often said, 'Yes! I shall be a\nwreck, and lost.'\n\n[Illustration: MR. TENNENT AND THE TRACT SELLER.\n\nVol. i. p. 151.]\n\n\"But God, who is rich in mercy, whose eye is pity, and whose arm is\npower (to quote your own expression, which I admired for its beauty\nwhen you uttered it), in an unlooked for moment, and in a strange\nplace, brought about a wonderful change, by renewing me, I trust,\nin the spirit of my mind, and bringing me again to say, 'Precious\nBible, what a treasure!'\n\n\"The means which he employed to effect this wondrous revolution\nin my opinions and in my heart were very simple, but they were\neffectual: he chose to let me see and feel that the work was his own\nwork. Such was the restlessness of my mind, that I was compelled\nto keep perpetually moving about, that by seeing various sights,\nand going into fresh society, I might be diverted from the gloomy\nterror of my own thoughts, and the dread of what was to come. I\nspent two years on the continent, but returned to England last\nspring the same man as when I left it--with this difference, that I\nseemed nearer the verge of absolute despair. After spending a few\nweeks in London, and visiting many places in South Wales, I went to\nBristol, and then to Bath, and from Bath to Ryde, in the Isle of\nWight, where I took lodgings, making up my mind to stay there during\nthe summer. When returning one evening from Newport, I met a lad\nwith a small basket, who asked me to buy a little book, telling me,\nas an inducement, that he had been walking about all day long, and\nhad not got enough money to buy a supper for his poor old mother.\nHis doleful tale touched my heart, and I gave him some relief, but\nsaid, 'Keep your books, lad, they may be money to you.' We both\npassed on, but when at some distance from each other, I thought,\nperhaps he has in his basket something that would amuse me. I turned\nand hailed him, and he ran back. On examining his basket I found\na largish lot of religious tracts; I took two, paid him for them,\nput them into my pocket, and went home. I was so knocked up by my\nlong walk that I was soon in bed and asleep, and the tracts were\nnot thought of. The next evening, when sitting on a large stone\non the beach, looking at the ships sailing and at anchor, at the\nvaried movements of the sea-gulls, and the gentle ebbing of the\ntide, I felt a momentary elation of spirit, such as I had not felt\nfor years; it was something like the sudden return of an old friend\nafter years of absence. I will not, Sir, trouble you by recounting\nthe thoughts that passed through my mind in this elysian reverie,\nbut one thought came and went so often, that it became the master\nthought of this delightful mood of thinking. 'Yes,' thought I, 'man\nhas a capacity for happiness, why, then, is he not happy? Why am _I_\nnot happy? and why do I not enjoy life when I possess so amply the\nmeans of enjoying it? What can be the reason why I am so cast down\nand wretched?' On putting my hand into my pocket to get my knife, I\nfelt the tracts I had put there when I bought them, and I took them\nout. Their titles, _Covey_[4] and _Poor Joseph_, had caught my eye\nwhen I saw them in the lad's basket, and I was induced to select\nthem, imagining they narrated some interesting tale.\n\n  [4] See note, p. 58.\n\n\"I read the account of Covey, but his daring courage when going\ninto battle, which forced him to risk disobedience to orders rather\nthan skulk from the advancing foe, made a stronger impression on my\nimagination than his after conversion did on my heart. It carried\nme back also to the scenes which my old friend, Captain Dunlop, had\noften pictured to me, of his hairbreadth escapes from danger; and\nthen his last words recurred to my memory with terrible force--'Mr.\nTennent, I am a wreck, and lost.' I put the tracts again into my\npocket, as I thought, and sat in terrible and depressing cogitations\nfor a long time; but providentially I had put back only one of them;\nthe other had fallen on the ground, and a slight breeze blew it just\nunder the notice of my eye. I took it, and read the title--_Poor\nJoseph; an Authentic Narrative_.[5]\n\n  [5] A poor, half-witted man, named Joseph, whose employment was to\n  go on errands and carry parcels, passing through London streets one\n  day, heard psalm-singing in the house of God; he went into it; it\n  was Dr. Calamy's church, St. Mary's, Aldermanbury. The preacher read\n  his text from 1 Tim. i. 15--\"This is a faithful saying, and worthy\n  of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save\n  sinners, of whom I am chief.\" From this he preached, in the clearest\n  manner, the ancient and apostolic gospel, and Joseph, in rags,\n  gazing with astonishment, never took his eyes from the preacher, but\n  drank in with eagerness all he said, and trudging homeward, he was\n  heard thus muttering to himself, \"Joseph never heard this before!\n  Christ Jesus, the God who made all things, came into the world to\n  save sinners like Joseph; and this is true, and it is a 'faithful\n  saying!'\" Not long after this Joseph was seized with a fever,\n  and was dangerously ill. As he tossed upon his bed, his constant\n  language was, \"Joseph is the chief of sinners, but Jesus Christ came\n  into the world to save sinners, and Joseph loves him for this.\" His\n  neighbours who came to see him wondered on hearing him always dwell\n  on this, and only this.\n\n  One man, finding out where he heard this sermon, went and asked\n  Dr. Calamy to come and visit him. He came, but Joseph was now very\n  weak, and had not spoken for some time, and though told of the\n  doctor's arrival, he took no notice of him; but when the doctor\n  began to speak to him, as soon as he heard the sound of his voice\n  he instantly sprang upon his elbows, and seizing him by his hands,\n  exclaimed, as loud as he could with his now feeble and trembling\n  voice, \"O Sir! you are the friend of the Lord Jesus, whom I heard\n  speak so well of him. Joseph is the chief of sinners, but it is a\n  faithful saying, that Jesus Christ, the God who made all things,\n  came into the world to save sinners, and why not Joseph? O, pray to\n  that Jesus for me; pray that he may save me; tell him that Joseph\n  thinks that he loves him for coming into the world to save such\n  sinners as Joseph.\" The doctor prayed; when he concluded, Joseph\n  thanked him most kindly; but his exertions in talking had been too\n  much for him, so that he shortly afterwards expired.\n\n\"On any other occasion I should have doubted the truthfulness of\nthe narrative, and should have ridiculed it as a tale got up for\ndramatic effect. But I did not do so now. The sentiments of the tale\ncame with such force, that a flood of tears bore testimony to its\nwondrous effect on my proud spirit, and I was now deeply humbled and\nabased before Him whose eye is pity and whose arm is power.\n\n\"Returning to my lodgings I bought a Bible, now no longer an object\nof scornful contempt, but of veneration and love, and sat down to\nread it with as much eagerness of soul as a disconsolate child in a\ndistant country would open an unexpected letter from his father. I\nam not ashamed to confess to you that I shed many tears that night,\nas the Bible lay on the table before me; tears of contrition, when\nrecalling to my remembrance some of my reproachful sayings against\nit; and tears of gratitude to Jesus Christ, the friend of sinners,\nfor causing me once more to revere and love my Bible. For some time\nI was fearfully anxious lest the newly-enkindled emotions of my\nheart should die out, and that I should again be left to go back\ninto my old practices of evil, and possibly re-occupy the seat of\nthe scorner. I therefore resolved to let time test the genuineness\nof the great change before I said anything to any one about it. Time\nhas done this; and you, Sir, are the only person to whom I have\nmade the disclosure; and I have no doubt but you will rejoice to\nhear from me a simple statement of what the Lord has done for me,\nand how he has had compassion on me. We may meet again; and if we\nshould, we shall meet as fellow-believers in the precious Bible, and\nin the Saviour it reveals to us. Last week I sent a family Bible\nto the woodman, and a small Bible to each of his children, simply\ntelling him that it was a present from one who once attempted to\nsap his faith in the divine authority of the Bible, but who now\nvenerates and loves it as God's best gift to man.--I remain, yours\nrespectfully,\n\n  \"GEORGE TENNENT.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAMILY OF THE ROSCOES.\n\n\nMr. Roscoe was the son of an eminent London citizen, who, by his\nsuccessful speculations in trade, had risen from indigence to the\npossession of great wealth. He had two brothers and one sister. His\neldest brother took to his father's business, his youngest entered\nthe church, and his sister married a country gentleman of fortune\nand respectability. He was originally designed for the law; but,\nafter spending a few years with an eminent solicitor, he abandoned\nthe profession, and devoted himself to a life of pleasure. After\nyears of wandering from one place to another, he settled in the\nneighbourhood of the village of Aston, where he built a spacious\nmansion, as elegant within as its external appearance was imposing.\nSoon after its completion he married an amiable and intelligent\nlady, of a small fortune, but of great prudence. For some time they\nlived in the enjoyment of domestic peace; and while Mr. Roscoe\ngained reputation as a man of intelligence and of taste, Mrs. Roscoe\nwas universally esteemed for her affability and benevolence. Years\npassed along--they had several children, but all died in infancy.\nThese successive bereavements had such a depressing effect on Mrs.\nRoscoe, that solitude became oppressive, and society aggravated her\ngrief, and the shades of melancholy were gathering thick around\nher; yet she was comforted under her sufferings by the sympathy and\naffection of a fond and endeared husband.\n\nTime, which had covered the grave of her children with verdure,\nbegan to close up the wounds of her heart; but, when permitted to\nenjoy the anticipations of becoming once more a mother, she was\ndoomed to witness the growing indifference of her husband towards\nherself. Her other trials depressed her, but this overwhelmed her.\nHer affection still glowed pure and ardent; and though she long\nresisted every unfavourable impression, and redoubled her efforts to\nplease, and to render his home attractive, yet she saw her happiness\na wreck, and found herself bereft of all the endearments of life.\n\nThis change in Mr. Roscoe was produced by his intimacy with Sir\nHenry Wilmot, of Cleveland Hall. Sir Henry was the only son of an\neminently pious mother, who died when he was seven years of age;\nhe was thus left entirely to the care of his father, a man of\nsuperior mental attainments, but of gay and dissipated habits, and\na free thinker on theological questions. When young he resisted the\ncontagion of evil by which he was surrounded; but having finished\nhis education, which was not favourable to the growth of religious\nsentiments, he paid a visit to the continent, and there he became\nthoroughly corrupted. On the decease of his father, he returned to\ntake possession of the family inheritance; and brought with him\nall the loose opinions and dangerous principles of those with whom\nhe had associated. Being a man of elegant manners, of sociable\ndisposition, generous and warm in his professions of friendship, who\nhad seen the various aspects of society, and was qualified either\nto debate in argument or amuse at play, he soon acquired a powerful\nascendency over Mr. Roscoe, whom he often induced to prolong his\nvisits at the Hall to a late hour. The influence of evil, like the\ninfluence of good principles, is at first imperceptible; but it is\nusually found that the one corrupts more rapidly than the other\nreforms. The erection of the building requires a skilful combination\nof talents and materials; but it may be demolished by the rude hand\nof a barbarian, who knows not how to draw an elevation, or execute a\ndesign.\n\nCleveland Hall, which had been in former days the house of mercy and\nof prayer, was now become the rendezvous of the vices--the seat of\nlicentiousness and of moral pollution;\n\n  \"There _many_ fell, to rise no more;\"\n\nand there Mr. Roscoe lost the fine bloom that once glowed on\nhis character; and if a sense of decency operated as a partial\nrestraint, yet his home and his wife were comparatively forsaken.\n\nMrs. Roscoe, who watched this progressive change with deep anxiety,\nwould occasionally solicit the company of her husband during the\ntedious evenings of the winter, but rarely succeeded; for, such was\nthe infatuation which had seized him, that he could not be happy\naway from Sir Harry. At length the hour arrived which teems with\neventful consequences to a family, and Mrs. Roscoe became the mother\nof a lovely female child. At first her life appeared in imminent\ndanger; and when this was announced to her husband, he was deeply\naffected, and sat mute in silence; but it was not the dignified\nsilence of the soul bowing down in submission to the will of God,\nbut the silence of horror-struck guilt, which dares not speak. After\nwaiting a considerable time, the victim of his own reflections, he\nresolved at last to see his wife; but when he entered her room he\nfound that she had fallen into a profound sleep. As he was retiring,\nthe nurse threw off the covering that concealed the face of his\ndaughter, and the sight operated as a spell upon his passions. As he\nkissed the babe, the tide of conjugal affection flowed back into his\nsoul, and he resolved from that hour to become once more a domestic\nman. The next morning he sent a short polite note to Sir Harry,\nsaying that he should in future decline all intimacy.\n\nHad he merely resolved to drop the intimacy by degrees, leaving the\nHall earlier in the evening, and going less frequently--offering\nreasonable excuses for these variations, and then trivial ones--it\nis more than probable that Sir Harry would have employed an extra\namount of fascinating influence to prevent a dissolution of the\nconnection. But by coming to a decision at once, and acting\non it--by the transmission of the note--he broke the spell of\nenchantment under which he had long been held, and effected his\nemancipation with comparative ease. Herein he displayed consummate\nwisdom, and should be regarded as a model of imitation by any one\nwho feels himself entangled in a similar snare. Hesitation, combined\nwith a resort to cautious expedients, is far more likely to give\nperpetuity to a beguiling temptation than to dissolve its charm;\nwhereas, a resolute determination to break away from it, followed by\nsome bold and decisive step, is almost sure to prove successful; the\nself-conquest is then made without much difficulty, the character is\nredeemed from infamy, and domestic happiness is re-established on a\nsolid foundation.\n\nMrs. Roscoe soon recovered--the life of the child was spared--her\nhusband became kind and attentive--and the sun of her domestic\nhappiness, which had gone down, returned to lighten her long\ncheerless habitation. She was always a religious woman; but her\nreligion was restricted to opinions, and forms, and ceremonies,\nwhich had no moral power on her mind. She had her seasons of\ndevotion, but she regarded her devotional exercises as a duty, not\na privilege; and read her Bible occasionally, but her reading was\ngenerally confined to its histories, or narratives, or parables.\nShe regularly attended her church, and repeated the responses of\nits Liturgy with great solemnity, but she never conceived that the\nessence of religion consists in the renovation of the soul. She\nwas amiable and benevolent, discharged the relative duties of life\nwith strict honour and punctuality, and threw over the path of her\nvisible history a lustre which all admired; and feeling satisfied\nwith her personal goodness, she very naturally concluded that\nGod required nothing more. To her the scheme of salvation, which\nrequires repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,\nwas not less offensive than to the avowed unbeliever; and though she\nhad more liberality than her husband, yet she was equally severe\nin her remarks on those whose piety led them to oppose the customs\nof the world, and devote themselves to the Redeemer. Her formalism\nwas both rigid and acrimonious; and though it yielded no mental\nenjoyment, yet it excited much self-complacency, inducing her to\nthink she was fit for heaven, without creating any intense longings\nto go there.\n\nYears passed away in the enjoyment of health, unannoyed by cares\nor sorrows, till Miss Roscoe was seized with that depressing\nmelancholy which has been already described,[6] and which threw a\nsombrous gloom over all their prospects. From this affliction she\nwas now recovering, and though her parents beheld with joy the\ngradual return of her cheerfulness, yet her cheerfulness was of\nsuch a serious cast that they rejoiced with trembling. As they were\nsitting together one evening, when their daughter had displayed\nunusual liveliness, Mr. Roscoe said, \"My dear Sophia, it gives us\ngreat pleasure to witness your pleasantry, and we hope that in a\nshort time you will be able to partake of the amusements in which\nyou once took so much delight. We have resolved to celebrate your\nconvalescence by giving a ball, and we hope you will lead off in\nstyle.\"\n\n  [6] See p. 129.\n\nThis communication, which was intended to raise her spirits, had a\ncontrary effect; and she replied, \"I am conscious that you always\nkeep my happiness in view, but I assure you that such a mode of\ncelebrating my deliverance from the gloomy night of mental sadness\nwould ill accord with the sentiments and feelings of my mind; the\nsong of mirth I would exchange for the hymn of praise, and would\nprefer the retirement of devout meditation to the noisy bustle and\nfantastic exhibition of human vanity and folly.\"\n\n\"But such amusements,\" replied Mr. Roscoe, \"used to afford you\ngratification, and I do think, my Sophia, that they will contribute\nvery materially towards restoring that high-toned vivacity which\nyour spirits usually preserved.\"\n\n\"Yes, father, I once took great delight in such amusements, and\nalmost contemned the person who despised them, but my taste is\nchanged; and if you wish to retard the restoration of my mental\nenergy and vivacity, you have only to urge a compliance, which will\nwound my conscience.\"\n\n\"This reply, my Sophia, confirms the fearful apprehensions which I\nhave recently entertained concerning you.\"\n\n\"What, my father, are these fearful apprehensions?\"\n\n\"You are escaping from the gloom of a physical depression, to\nbe involved in a religious gloom, which will prove still more\ninjurious. You know that I have always inculcated religious\nprinciples, and set you a virtuous example, and can you suppose\nthat I would now recommend amusements which _ought_ to wound your\nconscience?\"\n\n\"But _it would wound my conscience_ were I to mingle again in\nthe gay parties, and partake of the amusements, in which I once\ndelighted; and I am sure, after such an avowal, you will not press\nit.\"\n\n\"I would not press anything on you which would give you pain, but I\nfear lest the religious turn which you are now taking should lead\nyou either to despondency or enthusiasm.\"\n\n\"O my father, it is a belief that Jesus Christ died for sinners,\neven the chief, that has given peace and hope to my deeply-depressed\nmind. This is the theme on which I love to dwell. In comparison\nwith this, the charms of poetry or the discoveries of science are\ninsignificant and worthless.\"\n\n\"But, my dear, I hope you do not rank yourself among the chief of\nsinners. You have always been a dutiful child, kind and attached\nto those around you; the ornament of your family; your character\nis free from a stain, and your moral principles are as pure as the\nlight of heaven; and would it not be an insult to your Maker if you\nwere, as is too much the fashion among our modern saints, to class\nyourself with those who are too worthless to merit his regard?\"\n\n\"But, my father, we may be very excellent in the sight of man,\nand yet offensive in the sight of God. The Pharisees of the New\nTestament are compared to 'whited sepulchres, which indeed appear\nbeautiful outwardly, but are within full of dead men's bones, and\nof all uncleanness.' I feel the comparison in relation to myself\nto be just. I have discharged the relative duties of life with\nsome degree of propriety, and know that my character is free from\nreproach; I have devoted myself to the improvement of my mind, and\nheld in veneration the religion on whose external ordinances I have\nattended, but I have not sought for happiness in the enjoyment of\nthe divine favour, nor have I, till recently, either understood or\nfelt the power of religious principles on my heart. However, though\nI may be blameless towards man, I am a sinner against God, but a\nsinner hoping to be saved by grace through faith, and that faith is\nnot of my own originating, it is the gift of God.\"\n\n\"My Sophia, I never heard you talk in a strain like this before;\nyou appear to have taken a most gloomy view of human nature, and,\naccording to my judgment, you are gone off among the mysteries of\nmodern Calvinism, and, unless you retrace your steps, you will be\nplunged into a state of depression more perplexing, because more\nhopeless, than that from which you are now emerging.\"\n\n\"I know I never talked in this strain before, because the veil of\nignorance concealed from me the truths which I now discern with so\nmuch clearness in the Scriptures. The apostle says, 'The natural\nman receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are\nfoolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are\nspiritually discerned.' And I can attest, from my own experience,\nthe accuracy of this statement. But the eyes of my understanding\nare now enlightened, and I can discern a beauty and grandeur in the\nscheme of salvation which I never saw before. The Scriptures are now\nthe pure fountain from whence I draw the water of life. My taste\nis now formed by the influence of the truth which they reveal, and\nsuch is the altered state of my mind towards God, and the Redeemer,\nand another world, that I feel as though introduced into a new\ncondition of being. You may imagine that this mental process will\nissue in gloom and dejection, but no; I feel myself rising above the\nconflicting elements of grief on which my mind has been tossed, into\nthe enjoyment of that 'peace which passeth all understanding.'\"\n\n\"But, my Sophia, I fear that you are carried away by the flights\nof your fancy, and are _now_ labouring under a delusion which will\nleave you more wretched than it found you.\"\n\n\"But, my dear father, _suppose it be a delusion, is it not a\npleasing one_? It has delivered me from a species of melancholy,\nwhich no other expedient could remove. But it is no delusion,\nbecause the effect is produced by truth operating on my mind through\nthe medium of my judgment; and if you examine the Scriptures\nyou will perceive that they represent such a moral change as\nindispensably necessary. Jesus Christ says that unless we are born\nagain we cannot see the kingdom of heaven. This new birth I once\nthought was baptism by water, but I now perceive the absurdity of\nsuch an opinion, for those who are born again are fitted for heaven;\nbut can we believe that all who are baptized are fitted for heaven?\nThere is baptism by water, which is the external sign of that moral\npurification which is denominated the baptism of the Spirit. And St.\nPaul says, 'If any man be in Christ he is a new creature; old things\nare passed away, behold all things are become new.' And though some\nwould say that this refers expressly to the reformation which must\ntake place in the more abandoned and impure, yet the comprehensive\nphrase which he employs (_if any man be in Christ_) demonstrates the\nnecessity of this change in each individual, irrespective of the\npeculiar modification of his character.\"\n\n\"I admit that there must be a change, my Sophia, but as that must be\nproduced by our own reflections, it does not require these flights\nof the fancy which you are now taking.\"\n\n\"But, my dear father, can a change so important as that which\nthe Scriptures describe, take place in the human soul without\naffecting all its faculties and passions? The change may be sudden\nor gradual, according to the sovereign will of the great agent by\nwhom it is produced, but when it does take place, a person cannot\nbe unconscious of it. It is not merely a change of opinion, but of\nprinciple; it not only gives a distaste for the follies and vanities\nof the world, but raises the affections to the unseen realities of\neternity, and transforms the whole character into a resemblance\nto Jesus Christ's. Dr. Paley says, 'It is too momentous an event\never to be forgotten. A man might as easily forget his escape from\nshipwreck.'\"\n\n\"I know that this change is necessary in relation to some, _but I\ncannot see that it is necessary in relation to you_; and I fear that\nyou are perplexing your mind with a subject which, if not above your\nreach, is altogether inapplicable to you.\"\n\n\"But, my dear father, I _feel_ the necessity of this change in\nrelation to myself, and it is evident that my opinion accords with\nthe current language of the Scriptures. Hence we read of being born\nagain, of passing from death unto life, of being created anew in\nChrist Jesus, of being made new creatures, and _I feel that I have\nundergone this change_. It is no airy notion which flutters over my\nfancy; it is no superstitious impression sporting with the credulity\nof my mind; it is no mysticism of opinion which dreads the light of\ninvestigation; but a substantial fact, which I cannot doubt, and to\nwhich I attribute, and _exclusively attribute_, my present mental\ncomposure and felicity. Yes, I now can say I am happy.\"\n\n\"It gives me pleasure to hear that you are happy; and though I fear\nyour happiness arises from a source which will ere long dry up, yet\nI will not disturb it while it lasts. Your heart, I know, is good,\nand the errors into which you have now fallen will be corrected, I\nhave no doubt, by the mature reflections of your judgment. It is\nnatural for persons who have laboured under a physical depression\nof spirits to be delighted by almost any object of pursuit which\nfirst strikes their attention. Some are charmed with the gaieties of\nthis world, and some with imaginary conceptions of the felicities\nof the next, and hence are carried away with the visions of their\nown fancy; but time cools their ardour, and they ultimately live to\nthink and act like other people; and this, I trust, will be the case\nwith you.\"\n\n\"My errors I hope to detect, and when detected I will renounce them,\nbut my religious principles, I hope I shall never live either to\nrenounce, or compromise, or dishonour.\"\n\n\"I know, my dear, that you are too virtuous to dishonour, and too\nindependent to compromise any good principles, but I hope you will\nrenounce those gloomy and mystical views which you have recently\nimbibed, and return to the adoption of those in which you have been\neducated. A mind that is given to change becomes the sport of every\nwind of doctrine, and liable to be imposed on by the sleight of men,\nand cunning craftiness whereby they lie in wait to deceive.\"\n\n\"But, my dear father, you will permit to say that I am not deceived.\nI have carefully examined the Scriptures, especially the New\nTestament, and I am as thoroughly convinced that I have been living\nin a state of total ignorance of the nature and design of the gospel\nof Jesus Christ, as I am opposed to the absurd rites of Papal\nsuperstition.\"\n\n\"Well, my Sophia, I perceive that you are too much enamoured with\nyour opinions to enter on a logical investigation of them at\npresent; but when the freshness of novelty is worn off, and your\nmind reverts to its accustomed accuracy of perception and sobriety\nof feeling, we may then do so with mutual satisfaction.\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear father, we shall; for I assure you that, as my\nhappiness is inseparably connected with yours, it is my daily prayer\nthat we may be made meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the\nsaints in light.\"\n\nShe now withdrew to her own room.\n\n\"Sophia quite alarms me,\" said Mrs. Roscoe. \"I fear her disorder is\ntaking a more fatal turn. It certainly has impaired her reason.\"\n\n\"She perplexes and puzzles me,\" said Mr. Roscoe; \"no, her reason\nis not impaired; it is acute and vigorous, and she is moving in a\nnew pathway of religious inquiry, but I cannot follow her. Some new\nchapter is opening in her mental history. She talks both rationally\nand incoherently. We must wait the issue, and hope for the best.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOCIAL PARTY.\n\n\nThe day at length arrived when the Roscoes came to dine at the\nvilla. I had previously seen Mr. Roscoe, and had become somewhat\nacquainted with his character; but there was such a peculiarity in\nhis manner, that I could not approach him with ease. He was affable,\nyet reserved; high, yet condescending; polite, yet spoke and acted\nas though conscious that he was about to engage in a disputatious\ncombat. The cloth was no sooner removed, than Mr. Lewellin, who had\nrecently attended the anniversary of the Shaftesbury Bible Society,\ninformed us that a medical gentleman moved one of the resolutions,\nwho confessed that he had been for many years an avowed infidel;\nbut, on application, he became a subscriber to the Bible Society:\nand then he thought it proper to read the Bible, to see if it was a\nproper book for circulation. After alluding to the instruction and\npleasure he had derived from its histories and its parables; from\nits unique doctrines, and its pure morality; from its development\nof the character of Christ, and its delineation of the human heart\nand character, he concluded his speech by saying, \"I am satisfied,\nfrom what I have read, that the Bible contains a revelation of grace\nand mercy from heaven. I deeply regret that I ever despised it, or\nspoke against it; and I think it a duty which I owe to the Redeemer,\nand to this society, thus publicly to say, that I renounce my\ninfidelity as the bane of human felicity, and take my Bible as my\nguide to everlasting life!\"\n\n\"Infidels,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"very rarely read the Scriptures,\nexcept to ridicule them. They take for granted that they are\nthe compilation of men, who have successfully palmed an absurd\nsystem of superstition on the world, which but few have courage\nenough to expose and condemn. But as the age is rapidly advancing\nin knowledge, they are sanguine in their expectations. Hence,\nDavid Hume prophesied that, at the conclusion of the last, or the\nbeginning of the present century, Christianity would be exterminated\nfrom the earth. But this prediction has failed, for Christianity\nis now diffusing itself with almost unprecedented rapidity through\nevery part of the world. Paine boasted that he had cut down every\ntree in the spiritual Eden. 'Priests,' says he, 'may stick them in\nthe ground again, but they will never take root.' Foolish man! did\nhe not know that there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that\nit will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not\ncease, 'yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth\nboughs like a plant.'\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"that the Bible Society is the glory\nof the age and country in which we live, and if Britain, who now\nstands on the highest pinnacle of fame, should ever fall from\nher eminence, and become, like modern Greece, the land of moral\nand political darkness and desolation, I have no doubt but the\nadventurous of a distant posterity will visit her national ruins,\ngiving to her the tributary tear of gratitude, as the birthplace of\nan institution whose benevolent design includes the whole family of\nman.\"\n\n\"But I do not think,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"that the Bible should be\nindiscriminately circulated. A person of education, like the medical\ngentleman of whom you have been speaking, may read it, but I do not\nthink that it should be distributed among the ignorant and the poor,\nbecause it is impossible for them to understand it; and if so, it\nis nothing less, in my opinion, than an act of folly, or mistaken\nkindness, to give it to them.\"\n\n\"They may not,\" replied Mr. Lewellin, \"be able to understand every\npart of the Scriptures, but I think they will be able to understand\nthose parts which are of great importance to be known. For example,\nsuppose a Sabbath-breaker was to read Ex. xx. 8, 'Remember the\nSabbath-day to keep it holy,' would he not understand it? Suppose a\nthief was to read Ex. xx. 15, 'Thou shalt not steal,' would he not\nunderstand it? Suppose a calumniator were to read Ex. xx. 16, 'Thou\nshalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour,' would he not\nunderstand it?\"\n\n\"They would understand these preceptive parts of the Scriptures, but\nI think that they would not understand the speculative parts, and\nhence they would be in danger of forming wrong opinions on religious\nsubjects.\"\n\n\"But if you withhold the Scriptures from them, you give them no\nchance to form right opinions.\"\n\n\"They should take their opinions from the clergyman of the parish in\nwhich they live, as he is the only authorized person to teach them.\"\n\n\"But, if so, to what a dilemma would you reduce them. You will,\non your maxim, compel them to vary their belief according to the\never-varying belief of the clergy. For example, you require the\npeople of this parish to believe implicitly what the Rev. Mr. Cole\npreaches.\"\n\n\"Certainly I do.\"\n\n\"And you will require the people in the adjoining parish to believe\nwhat the Rev. Mr. Ingleby preaches?\"\n\n\"Decidedly.\"\n\n\"But do not these two clergymen preach different doctrines? Can they\nboth be right?\"\n\n\"They do preach different doctrines, and I think Mr. Ingleby\nassuredly wrong.\"\n\n\"Then there must be something wrong in your maxim, which requires\nthe people of a whole parish to believe error. Or let me suppose\nthat the Rev. Mr. Cole, the clergyman of this parish, should die,\nand that he should be succeeded by a clergyman who preaches the same\ndoctrine as Mr. Ingleby, will you not, according to your own maxim,\nbe compelled, along with the rest of the parishioners, to believe\nthose very doctrines which you now regard as erroneous? Indeed,\nif your maxim be a correct one, what security have you for the\npermanent continuance of your belief?\"\n\n\"I have often told Mr. Roscoe,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"that he will\nultimately believe the same doctrines with myself, and now I\nperceive there is a chance of it; for in the event of the decease or\nthe preferment of the Rev. Mr. Cole, the living will be presented to\nan evangelical clergyman.\"\n\n\"Well, if that should be the case, I will break up my establishment,\nand reside elsewhere.\"\n\n\"But this,\" observed Mr. Lewellin, \"would be running away from your\nmaxim, that the people should believe, without examination, the\ndoctrines which their clergy preach. Indeed, your maxim is as much\nopposed to _a fixed local residence as it is to a steadfast belief_,\nbecause you do not know but as soon as you have purchased your\nhouse, laid out your pleasure-grounds, and brought your garden to a\nhigh state of cultivation, an evangelical clergyman may be inducted\ninto the living, and thus become the innocent occasion of making you\nliterally a pilgrim, if not a stranger on earth.\"\n\n\"Would you, then, leave every individual in society to interpret the\nScriptures according to his own judgment?\"\n\n\"Certainly; Jesus Christ says, 'Search the Scriptures.' Now, if\none person has a right to search the Scriptures, and to form his\nreligious opinions from them, so has another; and if two, so have\nten; and if ten, so have all.\"\n\n\"Then we shall have as many different religious opinions afloat in\nsociety as there are members; and I think it would be infinitely\nbetter to lock up the Bible in the cloister of the Romish monks than\nto circulate it.\"\n\n\"I grant that we shall have different religious opinions prevailing\namong us, but this circumstance will be more favourable to the\nreligious improvement of the people than a dull uniformity. There\nis no nation in Europe where there are _more_ religious sects than\nin England, and there is no nation where there are _fewer_ than in\nSpain; but which of the two nations is the most intelligent, which\nthe most powerful, and which the most free and the most religious?\nNational uniformity is the stagnant water where the life of\nreligious principle dies; but national freedom, which gives to every\nman the right to think and judge for himself, is the angel of mercy,\npreserving the truth in its purity amidst the conflicting elements\nof diverse opinions, causing it to have a free course and to be\nglorified.\"\n\n\"But would it not be better if we could all see alike on religious\nsubjects? Then there would be no disputation, and Christianity\nwould present to an unbeliever much stronger evidence of her divine\norigin.\"\n\nMr. Lewellin replied, \"If we could all see the truth with the same\nclearness as the apostles saw it, and if we all felt its purifying\ninfluence on the heart as they felt it, we should then arrive at the\nhighest pitch of human attainment; but this is a consummation rather\nto be desired than expected. It is evident that we have not attained\nthis pitch of excellence; and, till we have, I think that common\njustice requires that we should concede to others the right which we\nclaim for ourselves.\"\n\n\"Well, Sir, if I concede this, still I think that the different\nsects should keep distinct from each other. There should be no\nunion, no combination; they should act apart and alone, move under\ntheir own standard, and sleep in their own tents.\"\n\n\"Mr. Roscoe is now,\" observed Mr. Stevens, \"getting to his old\nobjection against the Bible Society. He dislikes the union of the\ndifferent denominations of Christians in that society. He thinks\nthat the church has degraded herself by associating with the\nDissenters in the circulation of the Scriptures.\"\n\n\"So it is,\" said Mr. Lewellin; \"what one man considers an excellence\nanother deems a defect. This very union is to me a most delightful\nsubject of contemplation; it reminds me so much of the heavenly\nworld, where all the redeemed mingle together in sweetest harmony,\nafter the jarring discords of earth have ceased to annoy and\ndisturb.\"\n\n\"But if we are distinct, let us keep distinct.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, we may differ on some points, and yet agree in others;\nand the same reason which would keep us distinct on points of\ndifference, should bring us together on points of agreement. For\nexample, you may be most attached to the monarchical branch of\nour constitution, Mr. Stevens to the aristocratical, and I to the\nrepublican. Here we should differ, but yet we may agree to defend\nit against a common foe. Now, shall our difference on these points\nprevent our uniting in its defence?\"\n\n\"Certainly no; he who would not unite with his countrymen in the\ndefence and support of the constitution, ought not to partake of the\nbenefits which it confers.\"\n\n\"I thank you, Sir, for this concession; you have fairly awarded\nto me my point. Difference on some subjects ought not to prevent\na union on others. We differ on some religious subjects, but we\nall profess to love the Bible, and to revere it as the standard of\ntruth; why, then, should we object to co-operate with each other in\ncirculating it through the world? The Bible Society I contemplate\nas the temple of peace. When we enter we lay aside the weapons of\nhostility, and mingle together as the professed disciples of Jesus\nChrist; and after thus fraternizing for a common object, we retire\nwithout having surrendered the smallest atom of the respective\nopinions and practices by which we are distinguished; and I am\nconscious that the intercourse will have a good moral influence over\nus, by diminishing the force of our mutual jealousies, and promoting\na kind and affectionate spirit among us.\"\n\n\"I have often thought,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"when I have had the\npleasure of being present at a Bible society anniversary, of the\nbeautiful lines which Milton represents Adam as addressing to Eve,\nafter they had wearied themselves with mutual accusations:--\n\n    'But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame\n    Each other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive,\n    In offices of love, how we may lighten\n    Each other's burden in our share of woe.'\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"that the spirit of Christianity is a\nspirit of universal benevolence, and I see no reason why it should\nexclude any from its communion who profess to have embraced it. If\nthe disciples of Jesus Christ will meet at last in heaven, and lose\ntheir sectarian designations in the more grand appellation of the\nredeemed, why should they object to associate together on earth?\nSurely it is no dereliction of Christian principle to take the\nexample of the spirits of just men made perfect as a model for our\nown conduct, while we are in this imperfect state.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"if the question of the Bible Society is\nto be carried by numbers, that I shall be out-voted; but still,\nthough it may do some good, and display a kind and benevolent\nspirit, yet I fear it is productive of many evils. For example, a\nDissenter gives away a Bible to a poor family, accompanied by his\nown reflections; will he not, at the time he make the donation, say\nsomething that may have a tendency to proselyte that family to his\nown peculiar tenets?\"\n\n\"He may, Sir; but has not the Churchman the same liberty? Hence,\non a supposition that they both aim at proselyting, their chance\nof success is reciprocal; and if they both succeed, the relative\nnumbers of each denomination stand unaltered. But I do not think\nthat such a spirit actuates the great body of the members of the\nBible Society. They circulate the Scriptures without note or\ncomment, and leave them under the blessing of Him, who employs\nthe truth they reveal, as the means of enlightening the ignorant\nand sanctifying the impure. To them the question of conformity or\ndissent is a question of minor importance; and I can attest, as far\nas my knowledge extends, that their paramount anxiety is to promote\nthe spiritual and eternal benefit of those to whom the donation is\ngiven, not to augment their relative numbers.\"\n\n\"But I think that every Churchman ought to support the church of\nwhich he is a member.\"\n\n\"And do you imagine,\" replied Mr. Stevens, \"that the circulation of\nthe Scriptures without note or comment will endanger the safety of\nthe church? What is this but virtually acknowledging that our church\nis not established on the foundation of the apostles and prophets?\"\n\n\"I do not intend to insinuate that it is not supported by the\nauthority of the Scriptures, but still I think that if the Book of\nCommon Prayer be circulated with the Bible, the attachment of the\npeople for the church is more likely to be preserved.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"this will involve a concession which\nprobably you will not like to place on record; it is conceding that\nthe Bible alone will not support your church, but that it must stand\nindebted to the Book of Common Prayer; a concession from which, I am\nsure, my friend Mr. Stevens will dissent.\"\n\n\"Oh! Mr. Stevens,\" said Mr. Roscoe, with a smile of good-nature, \"is\nmore than half a Dissenter already; and I often tell him that he\nwill soon become as zealous as the strictest of the sect. There is\na substantial proof of my assertion\" (pointing to the chapel, which\nwas visible from the room in which we were sitting).\n\n\"Ah! friend Roscoe, I know you do not like my chapel, but I hope\nthat I shall see you there the next time I have a charity sermon\nfor Mrs. Stevens' Sunday-school. Your friend, Mr. Green, was there\nthe other Sunday evening, and he has called on me since to say that\nhe shall be happy to co-operate with me in promoting the moral\nwelfare of the poor people in this neighbourhood; and who knows but\nyour prejudices may ere long give way, and that we may all act in\nconcert!\"\n\n\"Yes, I heard of his having been at your chapel, and I must confess\nthat I was astonished. Why, no man has talked more against your\nirregularities than he has; but now, such is the inconstancy of\nman, he is become an advocate of your opinions. But I am too old\nto change, and too much attached to consistency to deviate from\nthe course I have followed for so many years. Even the eloquence\nof Mrs. Stevens, and that eloquence I know is powerful, would fail\nin producing any effect on my mind. I have many objections against\neducating the children of the poor, and more against worshipping in\nany other place than the Established Church, and I think that no\nforce of argument would be sufficiently strong to overpower them.\"\n\n\"There are,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"the objections of prejudice, and\nthere are the objections of reason; and though it is not always\nin our power to draw the line of distinction between them, yet we\nshould attempt it. I lay it down as an axiom, which is founded\nin the very constitution of the human mind, that a child cannot\ndischarge his duty till he knows what that duty is; he cannot\nknow it till he is taught it; and the earlier the information is\ncommunicated, the sooner shall we secure his obedience, and the more\nuniform it is likely to become. Hence the necessity and utility of\nSunday-schools.\"\n\nI had hitherto sat silent, but now I related the conversation I had\nhad with the little boy[7] whom I accidentally met in one of my\nmorning rambles.\n\n  [7] See page 43.\n\n\"The shrewd intelligence of this boy may be a solitary instance,\"\nsaid Mr. Roscoe; \"but I fear that the plan will be found productive\nof fatal consequences. Our poor population will grow genteel in\ntheir habits; proud and discontented, and unwilling to discharge the\nduties of their station; and by being taught to read, will become\neither religious disputants or avowed infidels.\"\n\n\"No, this is not a solitary instance of the utility of\nSunday-schools. I can give many others.\" I then described the scene\nwhich I witnessed in the woodman's cottage, narrating, at the same\ntime, the conversation which passed between myself and his dying\nchild.[8] As I was telling this tale, a tear dropped from the eye of\nMiss Roscoe, and her countenance beamed with delight.\n\n  [8] See page 105.\n\n\"Ah! how I should like to have witnessed such a scene--a little girl\nlanguishing into life.\"\n\n\"Indeed, my Sophia,\" said Mr. Roscoe, with a tone somewhat harsh,\n\"I should not like for you to have been present. This artificial\nexcitement of the passions--this effervescence of feeling in the\nbosom of a child in the near approach of death, is no recommendation\nof the plan by which the effect is produced.\"\n\n\"Indeed, papa, I should like to have been present; it must have been\na noble sight to witness a child rising to the contemplation of a\nstate of future happiness; to have beheld the involuntary movements\nof her soul towards the source of all blessedness; and to have heard\nher speak in terms so delightful of the love of Christ, as the first\nmoving cause of her love to him. I have seen many sights, but this\nsurpasses all, possessing a radiance of glory which casts a dim\nshade on every other.\"\n\nThese remarks, which were made with a singular emphasis of tone,\nproduced a powerful effect on the whole party; and though Mr. Roscoe\nwas evidently displeased with the sentiments which they conveyed,\nyet he was delighted with the graceful vivacity of spirit with which\nthey were expressed.\n\nMrs. Roscoe, who had taken no part in the conversation, now observed\nthat she had no doubt but there were good and bad of all sorts, and\nthat she thought every person ought to be left to choose his own\nreligion; _only they should take care not to choose that religion\nwhich made them miserable_. Addressing herself to Mrs. Stevens, \"I\nthink a little religion a very good thing; and as our Maker has\ngiven us one day out of the seven to be religious in, I think that\nis quite enough; I should not like to be obliged to think and talk\nabout religion all the week, and I often wonder how it is that you,\nwho have so much of it at Fairmount, are not become weary of it\naltogether!\"\n\n\"Why, the reason is, we love it; and, you know, people do not grow\nweary of that on which their affections are placed.\"\n\n\"But we are commanded 'not to be righteous over-much!'\"\n\n\"We are so commanded; but we should be cautious lest we give a wrong\nmeaning to that expression. Do you think it possible that we can\nlove God too much; that we can love the Redeemer too much; that\nwe can be too much attached to the great principles of justice,\nbenevolence, or moral purity?\"\n\n\"O no, certainly not; but then I think it possible for us to\nthink and talk so much about religion as to render ourselves\nuncomfortable. Now I have heard some religious people speak with\nrapture about the happiness which they expect to enjoy in heaven,\nbut as I know we cannot enter heaven till we leave earth, and that\nwe must die first, I never make that the subject of conversation,\nor even reflection; for I always find that it casts a gloom over my\nmind, and makes me low-spirited.\"\n\n\"But ought we not, Madam, to prepare for death before it comes?\"\n\n\"O yes, we ought to make our peace with God, certainly; and, as he\nis so merciful, he will be sure to give us time for it.\"\n\n\"What time did he give to Miss Walcote, who expired just as she had\nleft the card-table?\"\n\n\"To be sure that was a frightful event; but you know she was a most\naccomplished young lady, and had a good heart.\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam, she was amiable and accomplished; but how awful was\nit to pass from such scenes of human folly to the judgment-seat of\nChrist!--one moment shuffling the cards, the next listening to the\nfinal sentence, 'Come, ye blessed,' or 'Depart, ye cursed.'\"\n\n\n\n\nMISS ROSCOE.\n\n\nThere are periods in the history of life which give birth to\nevents of such a peculiar order, that they not only contribute\nmaterially to our future happiness, but exert a powerful influence\nin the formation and in the complexion of our character. We are\naccidentally thrown into the company of a stranger; the stranger\nbecomes a companion, the companion a friend; the friend is\npowerfully imbued with the spirit of Christ, capable of instructing\nand consoling us in seasons of perplexity and depression; and though\nwe may not notice the original moving cause of the interview, yet\nthe consequences resulting from it may be felt through life, and in\nanother and better world.\n\nIt was the privilege of Miss Roscoe, when labouring under her mental\ndepression, to find in Mrs. Stevens a friend eminently qualified\nnot only to impart the sympathies of friendship, but to administer\nthe consolations of religion. As she had passed through the same\ntumultuous and darkened scene, she knew how to guide the footsteps\nof another; and having \"tasted that the Lord is gracious,\" and felt\nthe moral efficacy of his death, she could speak on these sacred\nthemes with a peculiar force of impression. Her skill in introducing\nreligious subjects in conversation was great, and her news were\nclear and comprehensive. She minutely studied the peculiarities of\nthe human character; observed the times, and seasons, and forms\nof its development; and while she rarely left an individual or a\ncompany without dropping some appropriate remark, she never obtruded\nher sentiments so as to make them unwelcome.\n\nAs Mrs. Stevens was walking one evening to her favourite retreat for\nmeditation, she saw Miss Roscoe approaching, and after exchanging\nthe customary salutations, the conversation turned on the subject of\nreligion and a future state.\n\n\"My mind,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"has been dwelling with more than\nordinary delight on the immortality of the soul. Immortality is the\ngrand prerogative of man. He lives amidst the decay of his nature,\nsurvives his own dissolution, and lives for ever.\"\n\n\"How few,\" replied Miss Roscoe, \"are impressed by this grand\nsubject. Here and there I meet with an individual who is alive to\nthe powers of the world to come; but the vast majority move onwards\nto the tomb, as though that receptacle of death was to terminate\ntheir existence. To me immortality is alternately a pleasing, and an\nawful theme of meditation. There are seasons when it is invested\nwith a radiant brightness, which almost entrances my soul, and I am\neager to join the general assembly of the redeemed; but at other\nseasons my mind recoils from the thought of dying, and I ask, in\nterror--\n\n    'Will it be morning then with me,\n    Awak'd to hail his glorious light:\n    Or must my doleful destiny\n                  Be endless night?'\"\n\n\"That the subject of immortality, preceded by dying, should present\nthe varying aspect of delight and of terror, is not surprising. Some\nare in bondage all their life through fear of death, and others are\n_occasionally_ in a state of great alarm; but this proceeds either\nfrom the incorrectness of their views of the economy of revealed\ntruth, or the weakness of their faith. They look for some degree\nof moral perfection in themselves, to which they never attain,\nrather than to Jesus Christ, in whom they are accepted as complete;\nor they hesitate to place an implicit dependence on his power and\nwillingness to save them, lest they should be guilty of an act of\npresumption. But as the gospel is a revelation of grace to sinners,\nand as we are invited in the most encouraging language to receive\nit, we ought not to hesitate, or deem it presumptuous to do so. I\nremember hearing our venerable minister once conclude a sermon with\nthis striking remark: 'Are you willing to be saved?' After a short\npause, he added, 'Then Jesus Christ is willing to save you. You and\nthe Saviour are both of one mind, and who can separate you?'\"\n\n\"But I fear,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"that I have not yet felt that deep\ncontrition for sin which is essential to genuine repentance, and\nwhich must precede the exercise of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.\nI recently read a sermon, in which the author says, that 'the\nsorrow which is connected with true repentance is not only sincere,\nbut deep and pungent. It not only enters into the heart, but it\npenetrates into its inmost recesses, and there lives and reigns. It\nnot only causes the tear to flow, and the breast to heave with the\nbitter emotions of anguish, but it is compared to the most acute\nsorrow which can pierce the human bosom; to the sorrow which chills\nthe heart of a parent as he mourns the loss of a son, of an only\nson, of a first-born!' I know I have felt abased and humbled when\nreviewing my past life; and silently adore the long-suffering of\nGod in bearing with me; but I am yet a stranger to that acute and\noverwhelming agony of soul which, in the estimation of this writer,\nis essential to genuine repentance.\"\n\n\"If, my dear, you have felt sorrow for sin, you need not be\ndistressed because you have not felt it in its most intense and\nagonizing degrees. True repentance does not always burst forth\nin bitter lamentations and weeping, leaving the victim of its\ninfliction an exile from all the comforts of life and all the\npromises of mercy--doomed, in his own apprehension, to a more\nawful banishment at the day of final decision; but it is often\nthe silent tear, and the noiseless sigh--the self-loathing of the\nsoul over its defects--which become daily more and more apparent,\naccompanied by an humble and implicit dependence on the death and\nmediation of Jesus Christ for pardon and endless life. The author\nfrom whose beautiful sermon you have quoted a passage, remarks\ntowards the latter end of it, that 'heartfelt sorrow for sin is\nnot opposed to happiness. The tears of penitence are not tears of\nunmingled bitterness. There is a joy connected with them which is\nas satisfying and exalting as it is purifying and humbling. God\nhimself has pronounced the sorrow of the poor in spirit, blessed;\nand he has not blessed it in vain. His people taste its sweetness.\nTheir happiest hours are those which are spent in the exercise of\npenitence and faith; and while these graces are in lively exercise,\nthey may look on the inhabitants of heaven without envy, even\nthough they may long to participate of their still more elevated\nenjoyments.'\"\n\n\"Such a repentance I am conscious I have felt. I would not return\nto my former course of life, even if it were compatible with a\nreligious profession; for I have lived a life of vanity, minding\nearthly things; my intellectual studies were pursued to gratify\npride, which coveted the honour which comes from man; the claims\nof God, on the homage and supreme affections of the heart, I have\nneglected; the Redeemer I have neither loved nor honoured; I have\nspurned from my presence those religious principles which require a\nseparation from the world, and have uniformly acted as though the\nrealities of an unseen world were a mere fanciful creation; but now\nthe delusion has vanished away, and I see with an unveiled face the\nsupreme importance of those truths and sources of enjoyment which in\nthe days of my ignorance were concealed from me; and if I have any\nregret, it is not because I have discovered the illusion so soon,\nbut because I did not discover it sooner.\"\n\n\"It is recorded of one of the Roman emperors,\" said Mrs. Stevens,\nthat he wept when he saw the statue of Alexander the Great, because\nAlexander had conquered the world at a period of life when he had\ngained no victory. And if you, my dear, have been later than some\nothers in making your spiritual discoveries, and in gaining your\nspiritual conquests, I hope you will now distinguish yourself by\na decision more firm, and a zeal more ardent, and redeem, for the\nhonour of the Saviour, the time you have withheld from his service;\nand by carrying the principles of your faith to the highest possible\nattainments, you will compel others to see the effects which the\ngrace of God produces in the human character.\"\n\nOn passing within sight of a cottage standing on a slight elevation,\nMiss Roscoe said, \"That, I believe, is Mrs. Labron's, and I greatly\nadmire it, it is such a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture,\nmy favourite style of building, and its shrubbery and gardens are\nlaid out and planted with so much taste.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, there is great external beauty, but within there is a\nsad spectacle of domestic sorrow and moral disfigurement. Her eldest\ndaughter is rapidly fading away from life, under the withering\ninfluence of that disease which proves fatal to thousands; and I\nam informed that, to divert her attention from dying, she spends\nthe greater part of her time either in reading novels or playing\nat cards; and though a minister of Jesus Christ, who has a slight\nintimacy with the family, expostulated with her on the impropriety\nof devoting herself to such amusements at such an eventful crisis,\nyet it made no impression on her; and her mother said, with an\nair of apathetic indifference, that as she was passionately fond\nof novels and cards, she thought it would be an act of cruelty to\nwithhold them from her; adding that she had taken the sacrament,\nand made her peace with God! and that the physician particularly\nrequested that no one be permitted to speak to her on religious\nsubjects.\"\n\n\"This is appalling, truly awful; and yet how many modern Christians\nwould give it the sanction of their decided approval. The physician\nrequesting that no one may be permitted to speak to her on\nreligious subjects! Oh, how cruel! What is this but interdicting\nthe visit of mercy, and dooming a sinner to pass into the eternal\nworld unprepared to die? I remember, at an early stage of my\nlate affliction, the medical attendant urged upon my parents the\nnecessity of keeping the Bible out of my reach, and they complied\nwith his request; and that holy book, which reveals life and\nimmortality, was kept out of my sight. Can you account for this most\nastonishing part of their conduct?\"\n\n\"I can tell you the reason which they assign for it. They, I have no\ndoubt, will say that the mind of a dying patient ought to be kept\nin a state of great composure; and concluding that religion will\nagitate and alarm, they forbid all reference to it.\"\n\n\"Poor creatures, how ignorant must they be of the nature and\ntendency of pure religious truth! If a person be renewed in the\nspirit of his mind, and if he feels the love of God shed abroad in\nhis heart, there is no subject which will have such a delightful\neffect as the immediate prospect of entering heaven. I lately sat\nbeside the bed of a dying Christian, who, not long before her\ndeparture, after praying in the language of Stephen, 'Lord Jesus,\nreceive my spirit,' repeated the following lines with an emphasis\nand melody of voice which still sounds in my ear:--\n\n    'Dissolve Thou the bond that detains\n      My soul from her portion in Thee:\n    O strike off these adamant chains,\n      And set me eternally free.\n\n    When that happy moment begins,\n      Array'd in thy beauties I'll shine;\n    Nor pierce any more with my sins\n      The bosom on which I recline.'\n\nAnd if a person be ignorant of the scheme of salvation which is\nrevealed in the Scripture, there is no subject which ought to\nbe pressed more upon his attention. If he have but a short time\nto live, no portion of that time ought to be lost. To-day he is\nhere--to-morrow in eternity. For the physician to interpose, to keep\nhim in a state of ignorance, is an act of cruelty which no language\ncan adequately describe; and, notwithstanding the frivolous reasons\nwhich he may assign for his conduct, it is an act for which he will\nstand responsible at the last day.\"\n\nAs I was returning from a solitary walk, I accidentally met the\nladies, and on reaching the end of the grove through which we were\npassing, we seated ourselves on a garden chair, which stood under\na very fine beech tree, from whence we had a distinct view of the\nrectory and its church, and also of Mr. Stevens' unobtrusive chapel.\n\n\"These Dissenting chapels,\" I remarked, \"are what may be called\necclesiastic retreats; spiritual places of refuge for the gospel\nwhen it is driven out of the church.\"\n\n\"They are spiritual Bethels,\" Miss Roscoe replied, \"where God\nunexpectedly visits his chosen ones with the manifestation of His\nunseen but not unfelt presence; often astonishing and delighting\nthem; constraining them to exclaim, in the language of the venerable\npatriarch, '_Surely the Lord is in this place_.'\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"and sometimes in these chapels He conveys\nthe grace of life to the spiritually dead. This reminds me of what I\nshould have told you before, but it escaped my memory. You know that\nwe have seen Mrs. Pickford at our chapel several times lately, and\nlast Sabbath evening, when she was passing my pew after the close\nof the service, I spoke to her, expressing the pleasure I felt on\nseeing her there; and inquired after the welfare of Mr. Pickford\nand the family. She then very modestly, for she appears to be an\namiable woman, referred to the benefit which had resulted from your\nvisit, and asked me to remind you of your promise to visit them\nagain.\"\n\n\"I intend to see Mrs. Pickford in the course of the week. I know,\nMadam, that you are partial to yon modest-looking chapel, but still,\nthough its _internal glory_ may be greater than that of the church,\nyet it does not form such an imposing object in a piece of scenery.\"\n\n\"I admit that; but it often calls up, in a pious mind, an order of\nricher and more hallowed associations, and awakens a more sublime\nand elevating class of feeling. There is a church, with its Liturgy\nand its white-robed priest, yet from it the gospel is cast out; but\nit has taken refuge in what you call our modest-looking chapel,\nwhere it proves to be the power of God to salvation.\"\n\n\"I have been accustomed,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"to attend that church\nfrom my childhood; the gentleman who does duty in it is a learned,\npolite, and amiable man; we have often spent many pleasant evenings\ntogether; he excels in music, and has a fine poetic taste; but I\nregret to add, he has a strong aversion to evangelical truth. He\ncame to see me just as I was recovering from my late affliction,\nand when I made some reference to the influence which reading\nthe Bible had over my mind, he said, 'I hope you will be on your\nguard, for you are now in great danger of becoming too religious.\nThe mania has affected many amongst us, but I hope you have virtue\nenough to resist it.' He is rather lofty in his spirit, though\nvery familiar when among the poor. His ideas of the dignity and\nexcellence of human nature are diametrically opposed to the\nscriptural representation; and he asserted in the last discourse I\nheard him deliver, that the charge of a universal corruption having\ntaken place among the members of the human family, was a gross\nlibel on our virtue. 'There are a few imperfect,' he said, 'yet\nthey have virtue enough left to atone for their defects; but the\ngreat bulk of mankind are as perfect as their Creator ever intended\nthey should be.' He then adverted to the evangelical doctrines of\nfaith, and salvation by grace through the imputed righteousness of\nJesus Christ, which he denounced as corruptions of Christianity,\nand warned the people against them, as being more pernicious to\nthe peace and good order of society than the principles of open\ninfidelity. On being asked by my father how I liked the discourse, I\nreplied, 'Not at all, as Mr. Cole not only opposed the Scriptures,\nbut the Articles of his own church;' and I then quoted the eleventh\nArticle, which put an end to our conversation. I have not heard him\nsince; for I think it wrong to sanction by my presence a style of\npreaching which is subversive of the entire scheme of salvation.\"\n\n\"It must be painful,\" I observed, \"to be driven from the church\nby the introduction of erroneous doctrines; but it must _be more\npainful to a conscientious mind to sit and hear them_. Where do you\nnow attend?\"\n\n\"Alas! Sir, like the captives of Babylon, I am denied the privilege\nof worshipping in the temple, and, like them, I sit and weep over\nthe desolation of Zion. But He who was a little sanctuary to them in\nthe season of their captivity, visits me within the retirement of\nthe closet, by the special manifestations of his holy presence. I\nasked permission the other Sabbath to go and hear the venerable Mr.\nIngleby, but I was refused. Oh! this pierced me to the heart.\"\n\n\"But why did your father deny a request so reasonable?\"\n\n\"He would not have done it if he had not been influenced by others;\nfor such is the strength of his attachment for me, and such his\ndevotedness to my happiness, that he has heretofore deemed no\nsacrifice too great, nor any indulgence too expensive to promote my\ncomfort. But the Rev. Mr. Cole and some lay gentlemen have urged\nhim to interpose his authority, to save me from what they call the\ndelirium of religion. They tell him that his honour, his peace, and\nhis influence, are all in jeopardy; and that if I am permitted to go\non in my present course, nothing but inevitable ruin awaits me. By\nsuch stratagems they have induced him to act a part which I know is\nrepugnant to the generous feelings of his nature; because he told\nme, at an early stage of my hallowed impressions, that if I found\npeace in religion, he would not presume to interfere.\"\n\n\"This trial,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"is not joyous, but grievous;\nnevertheless, it will yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness.\nThough it comes through a medium which invests it with a peculiar\npoignancy, and may throw a gloomy shade over all your hopes of\nfuture comfort, yet the Redeemer says, 'My grace shall be sufficient\nfor thee, my strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness.' You\nhave only to act wisely, and with decision; keep your conscience\nvoid of offence towards God and man; demonstrate, by the meekness\nof your disposition, and your efforts to please, that your religion\nis not the religion of fancy or of passion, but of principle; and\nthen you will rise above the visible agents who are employed in\nconducting the machinery of Providence, to meditate on Him who sits\nbehind the cloud that conceals Him from our sight, working all\nthings after the counsel of His own will.\"\n\n\"I have known,\" I remarked, \"some young Christians commence their\nreligious profession under auspicious influences. They have been\nhailed by pious parents and pious friends with acclamations of joy;\nthe spring-time of their spiritual existence has been free from the\nrude blasts of persecution; and they have advanced from stage to\nstage, with unobstructed and undiverted steps. I have known others\nrocked in the whirlwind, and cradled in the storm. They have had to\ncontend with the principalities and powers of evil in their high\nplaces. They have been despised and rejected; and the reproaches\nof men have fallen upon them. But I generally find that opposition\nat the commencement of a religious profession has a beneficial\nrather than an injurious tendency. It forces its principles deeper\ninto the mind. It consolidates them. It gives to them an energy\nwhich ultimately rises superior to resistance; a healthful vigour,\nwhich they rarely attain to when nourished by the fostering hand of\nparental solicitude; and it brings them forth into such visible and\npowerful manifestations, that even the enemies of our common faith\nare compelled to feel\n\n  'How awful goodness is!'\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" observed Mrs. Stevens, \"and we should remember that\nthose who oppose religion, when it takes possession of an individual\nmind, and exerts its influence over the visible actions of the life,\noften do it ignorantly. If they knew that they were attempting\nto resist the work of God in the new creation of the human soul,\nthey would cease their opposition. But they do not. They have no\nconception of such a thing. They ridicule it as visionary; and\nif a person offer to prove, by sober arguments taken from the\nScriptures, or from the Articles of our church, that such a new\ncreation of the soul is a reality, and that it will develope itself\nprecisely in that exterior form which they see exhibited in the\nconduct of those whom they oppose, yet they will refuse to hear.\nTheir unfairness to meet the arguments in support of _the reality of\nthe thing_, I grant, is very censurable; but it must be attributed\nto that judicial moral blindness which is one of the consequences\nof our apostasy from God, and which calls for the exercise of our\nforbearance and our tenderest pity. Hence, when we are reviled\nfor our religion, we should not revile again; when we suffer, we\nshould forbear to reproach; and commit our cause to Him who judgeth\nrighteously.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the course of the week I availed myself of the opportunity,\nduring the absence of my esteemed friends from the villa, to go and\ntake tea at Farmer Pickford's; and I was very much gratified by my\nvisit. During the evening he made several references to his wife's\nattendance at the chapel; and at length he spoke out, by saying,\n\"Mr. Stevens, I think, is about one of the best of us: he is very\ncharitable to the poor, and so is his wife; and he is always willing\nto do any body a good turn when he can; and my wife says he is a\ncapital preacher, but I can't think so.\"\n\n\"Have you ever heard him preach?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, I must have an Oxford or Cambridge man. To speak my mind,\nMr. Ingleby is the preacher for me. I never went into his church\nbefore you took lunch with us, but what you said then inclined me to\ngo. Why, I would rather hear one of his _sarmunts_, than I would a\nscore of Parson Cole's. He sends what he says _home here_,\" laying\nhis hand on his heart; \"but I can get a comfortable nap when Parson\nCole is holding forth. We all go to church now on a Sunday morning,\nand I seem to like it; and the youngsters like it, and so do the\nsarvants. It helps to keep us in a bit better order. And wife often\ntells me she was never so happy in all her life as she is now; and\nthat makes me feel a bit more comfortable, as I like to see smiling\nfaces in my homestead.\"\n\nI listened with some emotions of surprise and delight while he\nwas running on in his tale of reformation, and, after a little\nhesitation, I ventured to propose reading a chapter of the Bible,\nand going to prayer.\n\n\"Ay, that's right, Sir. That puts me in mind of what I heard my\nuncle say, the last time he slept here, and he was as staunch a\nChurchman as ever sung a psalm tune: 'Prayer and provender are two\ngood things; one is good for man, and t'other for beast:' though, I\nmust say, we ant had much prayer here; worse luck.\"\n\nI read the second chapter of Ephesians, making a few comments on it,\nand then we knelt before the throne of grace; and when this domestic\nservice was over, I received the hearty hand-shake, and set out to\nretrace my steps to Fairmount, which I reached just in time to lead\nthe devotions of the family; when, having committed ourselves to the\nprotecting care of our heavenly Father, we retired to rest.\n\n\n\n\nA VILLAGE FUNERAL.\n\n\nDeath is a solemn subject of meditation; and it is one which\npresents stronger claims on our attention than any other, because\nwe all _must die_. If to die were a mere cessation of being; if,\nwhen the mind ceases to think, and the passions cease to glow; if,\nwhen the active and the passive virtues cease to display their moral\nbeauty and vigour, and when the mantle of mortality falls from off\nus, we live only in the recollection of surviving friends, we should\nforbear passing a heavy censure on the general indifference which\nis manifested towards death and dying. But we live, when dying; we\noutlive death, and live for ever. Yes, life and immortality are\nbrought to light by the volume of inspiration. There we read that\n\"the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall\nhear His voice, and shall come forth, they that have done good unto\nthe resurrection of life; and they that have done evil unto the\nresurrection of damnation.\"\n\nDeath spares neither age nor rank, talent nor piety. The king of\nterrors sways the sceptre of absolute authority over all the living;\nnone can elude his grasp, nor resist his power. What a scene is\npresented where he has achieved a conquest! The sparkling eye\nbecome dim, the instructive lips sealed in perpetual silence; the\near deaf alike to the voice of friendship and the song of mirth;\nand the tabernacle of bliss changed into the house of mourning.\nThe preparations necessary for the interment keep the mind in a\nstate of constant agitation; but when these are all adjusted, and\nthe ministers of death enter to bear away the dear departed to the\ndistant tomb, then the sobs, and tears, and groans of agonized\nsurvivors, proclaim the greatness of the irreparable desolation.\n\nIt was on a still summer evening, as we sat conversing together on\nthe immortality of the soul, and on the blessedness of the righteous\nin the heavenly world, that we received intelligence of the\napproaching dissolution of Mrs. Allen. Mrs. Stevens expressed a\ndesire to see her once more before her decease; and having accepted\nmy offer to accompany her, we hastened to her lonely dwelling.\n\n[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF MOURNING.\n\nVol. i. page 187.]\n\nI have often observed, in my intercourse with society, that the\nbenevolent affections are not cherished exclusively by any class of\nits members, but glow in the breasts of all; yet they are usually\nmost delicate when refined by the hallowed fire of devotional\nfeeling. On some occasions we see in humble life the tributary tear\npaid to departed worth, even where religion has not instilled her\nsweetest influences; yet, in general, a degree of insensibility\nis manifested which may well excite astonishment. But we felt, on\nentering this cottage, that we were indeed in the house of mourning.\nThe husband, just returned from his hard day's labour, sat in the\nwindow-seat, his mug of ale, and bread and cheese, untouched on the\ntable beside him; his hand spanned his forehead, concealing his\neyes, and his little boy stood near him, pensive and sad. No voice\nspoke, no noise was heard, nor did our entrance disturb the mourner\nin his musings. We felt a momentary tremor, under an apprehension\nthat death had already borne off his captive.\n\nAt length Mrs. Stevens said, \"Well, Robert, is your wife still in\nthe body, or in glory?\"\n\nHe started up, and, as the tear fell on his sun-burnt face, replied,\n\"She is still with us; but she will soon be gone. She has been\ndiscoursing about you, Ma'am, all day; and she will be very glad to\nsee you again before she enters into the joy of her Lord.\"\n\nWe went up stairs, and it was evident, from the expression of Mrs.\nAllen's countenance, that our visit gave her great delight. She\nsat up in bed, supported by pillows; her face glowed with a hectic\nflush, her eyes shone with radiant brightness, her voice was clear,\nthough not strong, and her mind discovered its usual cheerfulness\nand vigour.\n\n\"Here I am, hourly expecting a change. Disease has nearly consumed\nmy body; but as my outward man perisheth, blessed be God my inward\nman is renewed day by day. I have passed through deep waters since I\nsaw you, but they have not been permitted to overflow me; for when\nthe enemy came in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord lifted up a\nstandard against him. The contest is nearly over, the prize of my\nhigh calling is in view, and Jesus, my beloved Saviour, will soon,\nvery soon, present me faultless before the presence of the Divine\nglory with exceeding joy.\"\n\n\"I am happy,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"to find you in such a calm ecstasy\nin anticipation of the coming crisis. You have borne a living\ntestimony to the truth of religion, and now you can bear a dying\ntestimony to its excellence.\"\n\n\"My living testimony has been but feeble; it has not been so decided\nas it ought to have been; I dare not think of it but with regret and\nself-loathing. I have been an unprofitable servant, but I look for\nredemption and for acceptance to Jesus the Mediator, whose blood\ncleanseth from all sin.\"\n\n\"But it must give you some degree of satisfaction to look back and\nsee the fruits of your religion, though the fruit may not have been\nso rich nor so fine as you could wish.\"\n\n\"It gives me pleasure to know that I have been kept from falling,\nand that I shall soon be permitted to bow down in the presence of my\nLord, and offer to Him some expression of my ardent gratitude for\nhis great goodness to me; but I can derive no satisfaction from a\nreview of my own conduct. I am a sinner saved by grace.\"\n\n\"You are now,\" I observed, \"near the end of your course, and I\nsuppose you would not willingly recommence your pilgrimage on earth.\"\n\n\"I would, Sir, cheerfully, if my Lord were to command me, but not\notherwise. I long to be with him. To give up my dear husband and\nchild occasioned a hard struggle, but I have been enabled to do it;\nand now I am going home, and my Father is waiting to receive me.\"\n\nWe committed her departing spirit to the Lord Jesus, and prayed for\nher husband and her child; then returned to Fairmount, where the\nnews of her decease reached us within the space of an hour. After\nwe left she had spoken but seldom, lying with her eyes closed, but,\nfrom the occasional motion of her lips, it was evident that she was\nmuch engaged in prayer. At length she said, \"I feel a change which I\ncannot describe--is this death?--how easy it is! The king of terrors\nis transformed into an angel of deliverance. I shall soon see the\nKing, the Lord of hosts in his beauty. I am entering the valley, but\nthere is no darkness. I see the shadow of death, but feel no sting.\"\nAfter a short pause, during which her spirit seemed to be gathering\nup its strength for the final departure, she embraced her husband\nand her child for the last time; and, having solemnly commended them\nto God, she reclined her head on the pillow, and expired. Precious\nin the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, and their\ndecease is often precious in the sight of men. Yes, their composure\nwhen bidding farewell to their endeared relatives, and their\njoyful anticipations when in the act of passing into the unseen\nworld, often produce such a powerful effect on the spectators of\ntheir exit, that many who contemn their religious principles, have\nretired from the solemn scene, saying, \"Let me die the death of the\nrighteous, and may my last end be like his.\"\n\nMrs. Allen's long affliction had so impoverished her husband, that\nhe was not able to meet the expenses of her funeral; but such was\nthe esteem in which her character was held, that a subscription\nfor the purpose was immediately raised. I had often seen the city\nfuneral, where the simplicity of nature is sacrificed to pompous\nshow. The mourning coaches, the hearse decorated with plumes, and\ndrawn by horses clothed in black, the hireling mourners, who make\na mockery of grief--these may, by their sombrous appearance, throw\na momentary gloom over the spirits, but rarely, if ever, produce\na deep moral impression on the heart. I had now to witness, in a\nvillage funeral, a very different scene.\n\nThe ancient custom of burying the dead in the evening, which still\nlingers in some parts of the country, prevailed in this village. I\nleft Fairmount, in company with Mr. Stevens and Mr. Lewellin, about\nfive o'clock, the eighth day after her decease; and we were both\nastonished and pleased by seeing Farmer Pickford on the road before\nus. When we came up with him I saluted him.\n\n\"What, Farmer, are you going to the funeral?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; my mistress wished it, as she mainly liked Mrs. Allen;\nand I felt a bit inclined to pay a little respect to her memory,\nbecause I once made sport of her religion; but I am now satisfied\nthat it is of the right sort.\"\n\n\"It is so. It gives comfort on a bed of sickness and pain, and it\nfits a person to die well--to die with a full expectation of going\nto heaven; that is, of going home.\"\n\n\"It's a main good thing, and no mistake, when we are turned out of\none home, to have another to go to.\"\n\n\"And that _other_ home _heaven_, which I hope, Farmer, will be your\nhome at last and for ever.\"\n\n\"The Lord grant that it may be so. I often pray a bit about it; but\nmy prayers are but poor prayers, worse luck. I can't pray like you.\"\n\n\"You can pray, like the publican, 'God be merciful to me a sinner.'\"\n\n\"Ay, that's the prayer for me. I can pray that prayer, and feel it\ntoo.\"\n\nAlmost immediately after we had reached the cottage, a neat oak\ncoffin, bearing the name and age of the deceased, was brought out,\nand placed on two stools in the centre walk of the garden. A band\nof singers from the church choir took the lead in the procession,\nthen the bearers of the coffin, two and two, a lad walking on each\nside with a stool, to afford an occasional resting; then the chief\nmourners--the widowed husband and his little boy; some relatives,\nand a few poor friends, walked behind; and many of the villagers\nattended as spectators. As the bier entered the vale that divides\nthe two parishes, the singers sang the following hymn:--\n\n    \"Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims\n       For all the pious dead;\n     Sweet is the savour of their names,\n       And soft their sleeping bed.\n\n    \"They die in Jesus, and are bless'd;\n       How still their slumbers are!\n     From suff'rings and from sins releas'd,\n       And freed from ev'ry snare.\n\n    \"Far from this world of toil and strife,\n       They're present with the Lord;\n     The labours of their mortal life\n       End in a large reward.\"\n\nThe effect was solemn and impressive. As soon as the hymn was sung,\nthe bier stood still, and the bearers rested; when the thrush\nand the yellow hammer, roused by the music, poured forth their\nmelodious notes, as though anxious to prolong the song. The number\nof spectators increased as we advanced; all were serious, some wept;\nand when we turned into the lane which led up to the church, another\nhymn was sung, in accents more bold, but equally melodious with the\nformer:--\n\n    \"O for an overcoming faith,\n       To cheer my dying hours,\n     To triumph o'er the monster Death,\n       And all his frightful pow'rs!\n\n    \"Joyful, with all the strength I have,\n       My quiv'ring lips shall sing,\n     'Where is thy boasted vict'ry, Grave?\n       And where the monster's sting?'\n\n    \"If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure;\n       Death hath no sting beside;\n     The law gives sin its damning pow'r;\n       But Christ, my ransom, died.\n\n    \"Now to the God of victory\n       Immortal thanks be paid,\n     Who makes us conqu'rors while we die,\n       Through Christ, our living Head.\"\n\nThe venerable rector met the procession on its entering the\nburial-ground, and walked before it up the pathway leading to the\nchurch, reading, as he walked, the thrilling words of inspiration:\n\"I am the resurrection and the life.\" The corpse was taken into the\nmiddle aisle of the church, and placed on a raised platform; the\nconcourse of people attending seated themselves in the different\npews, and listened with devout seriousness to the appointed lessons\nand portions of the Scripture, which Mr. Ingleby read in very\nimpressive tones. When he had finished, the corpse was carried\nforth to the place of sepulture; where, after the rest of the\nburial-service was performed, it was deposited till the morning of\nthe resurrection. When Robert and his little boy looked down into\nthe grave which had just received the remains of her they loved,\nthey wept, and returned to their house of mourning, cast down, yet\nanimated by a hope of a reunion in the celestial world.\n\nI stole away from the crowd, which was pressing round the grave\nto take the last look of the coffin, that I might indulge my\nreflections in solitude. Death was the theme of my meditation.\nHumiliating theme! How calculated to bring down the lofty spirit of\npride, to extinguish the flame of ambition, to hush the contentions\nof discord!\n\nA thrilling horror came over my spirit as I anticipated my own\ndecease. I felt attached to life, and my nature recoiled in prospect\nof losing it. The lengthened sickness; the parting tear; the final\nfarewell; the unknown pains of dying; the solemn anticipations of an\nimmediate entrance into another world; the interment of my body in\nthe cold, damp earth; the sighs of my bereaved widow and fatherless\nchildren; all rushed in upon my fancy. Never did the communication\nwhich the Redeemer once made to the mourner of Bethany appear so\nbeautiful as at this moment: \"I am the resurrection, and the life:\nhe that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet he shall live: and\nwhosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die.\" It was the\nlight of life and the vision of immortality bursting in upon the\nempire of death; elevating my soul above the desolation around me,\nto look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, \"who shall change\nour vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body,\naccording to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all\nthings unto himself.\"\n\nI did not leave the church-yard till the shadows of evening\nreminded me of the lateness of the hour, and of my having left my\nfriends, who were waiting for me at the rectory. When I entered the\nstudy, the venerable rector said, \"I am happy, Sir, to see you once\nmore on this side the grave; I shall be more happy to see you on\nthe other side; but before that blessed interview can take place,\ntwo graves must be opened, and we both must pass through the dark\nvalley of the shadow of death. My grave-yard is much richer than it\nwas when I commenced my labours in this parish; and in walking round\nit, my eye catches sight of monuments which bring to my recollection\nsome with whom I have taken sweet counsel, and who will be, I have\nno doubt, my crown of rejoicing in the presence of the Lord Jesus\nChrist at his coming. They are now resting from their labours, and\nI shall soon rest from mine; and then we shall appear before the\nthrone of God together, and serve him day and night in his temple,\nand for ever.\"\n\n\"You uniformly speak,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"with confidence of your\nfinal salvation, but every disciple of Christ cannot do so; for I\nhave noticed, within the limited circle of my Christian fellowship,\ngreat variation of mental feeling as the hour of departure has been\ndrawing near. Some I have seen in solemn rapture when anticipating\ndeath; a sweet calmness of spirit in others; while in many I have\nknown hope and fear alternately prevail. And though we may possibly\ntrace up this varying state of feeling as death approaches, to\nphysical causes, yet should we not contemplate the sovereignty\nof God at this crisis, who gives what portion of consolation he\npleases?\"\n\n\"I think the sovereignty of God is as conspicuous in the dying\nchamber as in the temple of grace; yet the Scriptures lead us to\nbelieve that there is an ordained, if not a natural connection\nbetween an eminently holy life and an eminently peaceful death.\nHence the apostle, after enforcing on his readers the cultivation\nof the graces of the Christian character, concludes by saying,\n'Wherefore the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling\nand election sure: for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall:\nfor so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into\nthe everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' I\nhave a funeral sermon, published by the Rev. Mr. Jay, which I have\nread with much satisfaction, particularly the following passage:\n'The confidence of the people of God generally increases as death\napproaches. Hence Isaiah compares their peace to a river; for as\na river rolls deeper and wider as it hastens to the sea, so their\npeace commonly becomes more solid and more extensive as they draw\nnear eternity. In this view the change which Dr. Goodwin experienced\nwas remarkable. \"Is this dying?\" exclaimed he, a little before he\nexpired. \"Is this what, for so many years, I have been dreading? Oh!\nhow precious does the righteousness of the Saviour now appear!--He\ncannot love me better than he does; and I think I cannot love him\nbetter than I do.\" This is not a solitary instance. How many have\nwe ourselves seen who wept upon the mountains of Zion, but rejoiced\nin the valley of the shadow of death; whose harps, long before\nhung upon the willows, were taken down, and delightfully used in\nsinging the Lord's song in the most strange part of all the strange\nland! We cannot always account for things as effects, which yet\nwe are compelled by observation and testimony to admit as facts.\nBut the case before us sufficiently explains itself. The love of\nlife having, from the will of God, no longer now any purposes to\nanswer, is suffered to die away. By drawing near the better country,\nwe feel something of its influence, as the perfumes of Arabia the\nHappy are blown into the neighbouring provinces. Above all, there\nis now more of the simplicity of faith. During life some degree\nof legality attaches to all our performances. Doing continually\nintermingles with believing; and often, insensibly to ourselves, we\nare anxious to make ourselves better, to _entitle_ us to the divine\nfavour, or to find something in ourselves wherein to _hope_, if not\nwhereof to glory before God. But all this is now over. What can the\nbeliever do when dying? What qualifications can he then acquire?\nWhat attainments can he then propose? \"Let him look back upon a\nwell-spent life.\" This is impossible. Every review which he takes\nof himself is humbling. The very sins of his holy duties would\ndrive him to despair. One resource remains--one, only one, which is\nalways equal to our relief--one whose consolation is only hindered\nfrom flowing in to us by the want of simplicity of mind; it is\nlooking by faith to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the\nworld; it is to commit implicitly the soul to him. He is able also\nto save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he\never liveth to make intercession for them.'\"\n\n\"I am fond of visiting the sick and the dying,\" said Mr. Lewellin.\n\"When with them, I feel the truth of religion. The terror which\nseizes on the spirit of an infidel in his last moments, and the\nrapture which glows in the breast of the expiring Christian, are\nequally impressive and instructive. I have seen the unbeliever\ntremble as the footsteps of death have been heard; his face has\nturned pale through fear, or it has been beclouded by despair. I\nhave heard him utter the most piercing cries; send forth heavy\nsighs and groans--the speechless messengers of woe; I have heard\nhim reproach himself in the strongest language for his folly and\nhis guilt, in having passed through life an enemy to the faith of\nChrist; and I have seen him expire in unutterable anguish. I have\nalso seen the believer, calm and enraptured. I have heard the music\nof his soul becoming more soft and enchanting as the vital spirit\nhas languished in his frame. I have listened while he has given\nutterance to his holy aspirations and blissful anticipations; but I\nhave never heard one express any regret for his attachment to the\ndoctrines of the gospel. I have never known one willing to renounce\nhis faith, or give up his hope, in prospect of death.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Mr. Ingleby; \"and this circumstance is a strong\nevidence in favour of the adaptation of the gospel to our moral\ncondition. Infidelity may contemn the faith of Christ, and hold up\nits friends to scorn, but she is faithless; for when her disciples\nwant her comfort in their last hours, she generally leaves them as\nvictims whom she has fitted for destruction, that she may mingle\namong the gay and the dissipated, to prepare _them_ also for the\npangs of the second death.\"\n\nIt was late before we left the rectory, and in passing the now\ndesolated cottage, we saw light in the room, and on knocking at the\ndoor, we gained admittance. \"Well, Robert,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"you\nare not yet gone to bed.\"\n\n\"No, Sir; if I go to bed, I don't think that I shall sleep. I\nthought when my wife lay so ill, and suffered so much, that I should\nbe willing to give her up to the Lord, if he would take her; but now\nshe is gone, I feel my loss. No man can tell what death is till it\ncomes. I love to think of her, for she was a good wife, and a good\nmother; and I should like to talk to her; but now if I go into the\nroom, I find that I am alone; and this chills my heart. My boy tries\nto comfort me, but, poor fellow, he wants a comforter as well as I;\nfor he loved his mother.\"\n\n\"But God can support you under your trial; for he has said, 'Call\nupon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt\nglorify me.'\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; he does support me, and he has given me a spirit of\nresignation to his holy will; but, Sir, nature can't help feeling.\"\n\n\"But I do not suppose you would recall her from heaven, even if you\nwere permitted.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, it gives me pleasure to think that while I am mourning\nhere below, she is happy and at rest in heaven; but if I were\npermitted to recall her, I am sure I should be tempted to do it;\nfor she always tried to make me happy. She is gone, never more to\nreturn. In looking into her drawer, since we came back home, I found\nthese papers, which I have just been reading.\"\n\nFinding they were in Mrs. Allen's writing, I afterwards borrowed\nthem, and having transcribed a copy of one, I here insert it. It was\ndated three months before her decease:--\n\n\"I have just been favoured with a singular manifestation of the\nloving-kindness of my Saviour. He has taken away the guilt of all\nmy sins. He has removed all my doubts. He has given me peace, and\nhas enabled me to resign my husband and child to his care. He will\nsoon take me to himself. As I have felt at times great depression,\nand may in my last moments be unable to speak of his doings, I now\nrecord in writing what will not be seen till after I have seen him.\nI die a guilty and worthless sinner, depending on his death for\nsalvation; and can say that I die in full and certain hope of a\njoyful resurrection to eternal life.\n\n  \"SARAH ALLEN.\n\n\"DEAR WIDOWED HUSBAND,--Before you see this, I shall have passed\nthrough the valley, and joined the redeemed above. While you are\nweeping I shall be rejoicing; yet, if the spirits of the glorified\nare suffered to visit their earthly friends, I will often come and\nhover over you and the dear motherless child. Follow me as far as I\nfollowed Christ. Farewell, till we meet in glory.--Yours, for ever.\"\n\n\n\n\nMISS ROSCOE WITHDRAWS FROM GAY LIFE.\n\n\nAs Miss Roscoe was sitting one evening with her parents, the\nconversation turned in the following manner:--\n\n\"I have just received,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"an invitation from Mr.\nDenham to attend a private ball at his house; and he hopes that you,\nmy dear Sophia, will accompany me and your mamma. I fear, from some\nincidental remarks which you have made at different times, that such\namusements have lost their charm; but I hope that your good sense\nhas overcome your scruples, and that you will not hesitate to comply\nwith my request. I ask it as a personal favour.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"I hope you will; your father\nand I have had much conversation together on the subject, and we\nboth think you can do it and be very religious too. You know that\nreligion is not to deprive us of any enjoyments. Indeed, I think\nwhen such religious people as we have always been indulge ourselves\nin these fashionable amusements, we do more to recommend religion\nthan such austere professors as our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.\"\n\nTo which Miss Roscoe replied: \"I certainly think that religious\npeople ought to recommend religion by their cheerfulness and their\npleasantry, as well as by their strict moral deportment; but I do\nnot see how that religion, which requires us to avoid a conformity\nto the vain customs of the world, can be recommended by a compliance\nwith them. If we do as others do, we shall be thought like them; and\nI am sure, from my personal knowledge, that those who find pleasure\nin balls and theatrical amusements are as averse to the religion of\nthe Bible as those who openly and avowedly reject it.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"I hope you do not intend to say that\nall who avail themselves of such recreations are destitute of\nreligion. I do not like such sweeping charges. You would condemn\nsome of the most amiable and virtuous persons living!\"\n\n\"A person may be amiable without being religious, and virtuous,\neven while he rejects as fabulous that scheme of salvation which\nwe admit to be true. If, then, we admit it to be true, does it not\nbecome us, if we wish to preserve consistency, to conform ourselves\nto its _preceptive_ parts? And does it not require us to become a\npeculiar people? And in what can that peculiarity be manifested but\nby an entire avoidance of the habits and customs which the world\nsanctions? You know, mamma, that I often acted a most prominent part\nin these scenes of fashionable gaiety, and that I intermingled with\nthe indiscriminate throng, participating in the glow of feeling\nenkindled in their breast, and am, therefore, intimately familiar\nwith the moral qualities and the religious sentiments of those who\nderive their highest gratification from such sources; and while I\nwould proceed with great caution in invading the province of the\nheart, yet it is my decided opinion that no person who has ever\nfelt the transforming influence of divine truth can sanction them.\"\n\nMr. Roscoe remarked: \"I grant, my Sophia, that a superior mind will\nlook with indifference on such frivolous amusements, and that many\nwho resort to them are impelled more by custom than inclination; yet\nI do not perceive that they can injure the religious tone of the\nmind. I have been as firm a believer in the divine origin of the\nBible, and the mission and death of our Saviour, after my return\nfrom a ball, as before I went, though I confess my time could have\nbeen more profitably occupied.\"\n\n\"And I am sure,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"that I have felt as religious\nat the opera as ever I felt at church; my heart has been elated\nwith gratitude to the Almighty for permitting us to enjoy such\nrecreations.\"\n\n\"I do not suppose, my dear father, that going to a ball or the opera\nwould shake your belief in the divine mission of Jesus Christ; but I\npresume that you do not imagine that He would attend them if He were\non earth! and ought a disciple to go where his Lord would not go?\nI grant that _that_ religion which consists only in a speculative\nbelief may not be injured by such amusements; but I am conscious\nthat they produce and nourish sentiments and feelings which are\nnot only unconsonant, but directly opposed to the spirit of vital\nChristianity. I could not pass from the gaieties of a ball-room to\nanticipate the happiness of heaven, nor retire, after the fatigues\nof a lengthened dance, to hold spiritual communion with the Holy\nOne.\"\n\n\"But where,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"is the necessity of being always\nreligious? Is the world to be turned into a convent, and are we all\nto become either nuns or monks--forbidden to taste of any of the\npleasures of life, and doomed to perpetual fastings and prayers?\nWhat! religion every day, and all day long! Why, my Sophia, your\nremarks alarm me.\"\n\n\"I am sorry, my dear mamma, that I should cause you any alarm, but I\nassure you that there is no occasion for it; the religion which has\ngiven me a distaste for pleasures so ephemeral and unsatisfactory,\nhas opened to me sources of enjoyment of a much higher order. I do\nnot stoop to earth or any of its gay scenes for mental bliss, but\narise to intercourse with the Great Invisible. I no longer seek for\nreligious impressions amidst the forms and ceremonies of an external\ndevotion, but in the exercise of that faith which brings remote\nobjects near, and which invests those which are unseen with a more\nattractive power than those which are visible. I no longer hover\nin a state of uncertainty respecting my final destiny, for I enjoy\nthe bright beamings of that hope which is full of immortality; and\ncan attest that now my mental happiness is more pure, elevated, and\nstable, than it was when I was a devotee to fashionable amusements.\"\n\n\"I am glad,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"to hear that you are happy; but I\nmust confess that it is a sort of happiness of which I can form no\nidea. The Almighty is very good; he wishes to make all his creatures\nhappy--some in one way and some in another; we should follow where\ninclination leads. Inclination is the first law of nature, which all\nmust obey if they wish to be happy; and I think that we ought not to\ninterfere with each other's propensities.\"\n\n\"But as by nature we are inclined to evil, ought not _such_ a\npropensity to be restrained? What are the various laws of civil\nsociety but so many proofs of the evil propensity of our nature, and\nso many restraints on its indulgence?\"\n\n\"I admit that the majority are wicked, and that they require the\nstrong arm of the law to keep them in subjection; but I cannot admit\nthat _all_ are corrupted by the evil principle. What models of\nperfection may we select from the circle of our acquaintance!--men\nof honour, of integrity, of benevolence--men in whose character all\nthe virtues are concentrated, and who live amidst the contagion of\nthe world without being injured by it--men who would scorn an act\nof meanness or duplicity; who would sacrifice their ease and their\nwealth to promote the general good; _who are religious without\nostentation_; and who know how to enjoy the felicity of social life\nwithout being entangled by its snares. Are we to suppose that such\nmen are corrupted by evil principles, and that they are under some\nfatally evil inclination?\"\n\n\"You will admit, my dear father, that a community of rebels may\ncultivate the social virtues among themselves, even while they live\nin a state of revolt against their sovereign, and in hostility\nagainst all who retain their loyalty?\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, certainly they may.\"\n\n\"Do we not read in the Scripture, that _all_ have sinned against\nGod--that _all_ are gone astray from their subjection to his\nauthority--that _all_ are become corrupt? And do we not know that\nthe sentence of death has passed upon _all men, because all have\nsinned_? Now if, as you suppose, some have escaped the general\ncontagion, and are absolutely pure and virtuous, how is it that they\nare involved in the same sentence of condemnation with the openly\ndepraved and wicked? Where is the equity of such a decision? And are\nwe not accustomed to say, when kneeling before the Lord our Judge,\n'We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep; we have\nfollowed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts; we have\noffended against thy holy laws; we have left undone those things\nwhich we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we\nought not to have done, and there is no health in us; but thou, O\nLord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders?'\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear Sophia; but you must remember that our excellent\nLiturgy was composed to suit the moral condition of the great\nmajority of the people; and therefore it became necessary that such\nstrong language should be employed; but you cannot suppose that it\nis strictly applicable to the virtuous part of the community.\"\n\n\"Then why do they adopt it? Why do they acknowledge, on their knees\nbefore God, what they deny to man? Is not this a resistless proof of\nthe evil propensity of human nature?\"\n\n\"I think not. I think it is a proof of the generous amiability of\nhuman nature, as the virtuous part of society consent to employ\nlanguage which is not strictly applicable to themselves, out of\ncompassion to the more degenerated and worthless, who ought to make\nsuch concessions, and pray in such strong terms of humiliation.\"\n\n\"How, then, ought the virtuous to pray, if they ought not to pray\nin the strongest terms of humiliation? Shall we revive the spirit\nof the ancient Pharisee, which our Lord condemned; and shall we\napproach the footstool of the divine throne with his language: 'God,\nI thank thee that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust,\nadulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week, I\ngive tithes of all that I possess?' In this prayer there is the\nlanguage of self-gratulation and the spirit of censoriousness, but\nno humble confession for sin, nor any petition for mercy.\"\n\n\"Being a virtuous man, he had no sins to confess, and therefore did\nnot need to implore mercy, but he did not forget to offer thanks to\nGod for his virtuous endowments.\n\n\"He did not _feel_ the guilt of his sins, nor did he _feel_ the need\nof mercy; but his insensibility was no proof of his innocence. The\npublican was in the temple at the same time, but how different the\nspirit which he discovered, and the language which he uttered: 'And\nthe publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his\neyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful\nto me, a sinner!' And in the following verse we read the judgment\nwhich Jesus Christ pronounced on the state of these two men: 'I\ntell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the\nother: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he\nthat humbleth himself shall be exalted.'\"\n\n\"I am sorry, my dear,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"that you have taken\nsuch gloomy views of human nature; I do not think that they will\ncontribute to your happiness, and I very much regret that you should\never have imbibed them. We were once happy and united, but now we\nare a divided family; the introduction of this evangelical religion,\nas it called, among us, has broken up our peace, and we are censured\nby many of our friends for permitting you to follow your present\nbias. We did hope, when the fervour subsided, you would return to\nyour former habits of life, but I begin to despair of this.\"\n\n\"The views of human nature which I have taken, dear mamma, are\nscriptural, and in strict accordance with the language of the\nprayers and articles of our church. If I am mistaken, I am willing\nto be convinced of my error; but, on a question of such magnitude,\nI can receive only the most substantial proof. You charge me\nwith breaking up the peace of the family; this charge possesses\na keen point, and it has deeply grieved me. My peace was broken,\nand I wandered almost a forlorn object of grief, because I had no\nprospect of happiness till I was led to embrace my present religious\nopinions; these have acted on my wounded spirit as the rebuke of the\nSaviour did on the agitated waters of Gennesaret, and now I enjoy\nan internal calm; and must the restoration of peace to my mind be\nregarded as the destroyer of domestic happiness?\"\n\n\"Why, you know, my dear, that your views on religious subjects\ndiffer from ours; indeed, I think them very eccentric, and we cannot\napprove of them, and our friends make many remarks which are not\npleasant. Some say that you are a Methodist, some that you are a\nCalvinist, and many say that you are become quite a fanatic. These\nthings are unpleasant, they mortify us. We think it quite a disgrace\nto our family that you should have such things said about you. I\ntherefore hope you will consent to go with us to Mr. Denham's ball;\nit is held, I assure you, principally on your account; there is to\nbe a large party, and all will be delighted to see you. You then\nwill wipe off the odium which your eccentric views have brought on\nyourself and us. Your father has made a very handsome purchase for\nthe occasion, which he intends to present to you. You know it will\nnot prevent your being very religious.\"\n\n\"I would sacrifice much to please and gratify you, my dear mamma;\nbut do not press me to a compliance which I cannot yield to without\nmaking a sacrifice of principle.\"\n\n\"But what principle would you sacrifice by complying with such a\nrequest?\"\n\n\"If I were to go I should feel no interest in the scene, and my\nsadness would throw a gloom over the cheerfulness of others; and I\nshould render myself the object of satirical remark, rendered keener\nthan any which has yet been directed against me, as my inconsistency\nwould justify it; for those who are so anxious to get me among them,\nwell know that I must first sacrifice my religious principles before\nI can consent.\"\n\n\"O no, my dear, they will receive you with more delight than they\nwould an angel; and when you get among your old friends, you will\ndisengage your mind from your religious meditations, which you will\nfind a great relief; I have no doubt you will be quite yourself\nagain, and that will make us all as happy as we used to be. I feel\nin ecstasy in prospect of it. Do yield to our request.\"\n\n\"Yes, I must disengage my mind from all religious recollections\nor anticipations to be happy on such an occasion; but such a\ndisengagement would be the entire destruction of my happiness in\nthis world, and the prospect of it hereafter.\"\n\n\"Then, must we go without you?\"\n\n\"I cannot consent to go unless you insist on it; and even then I\nshould go with reluctance, and I fear my presence would disturb the\nharmony of the evening.\"\n\n\"I assure you,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"it is with the deepest regret that\nI witness the pernicious infatuation under which you are labouring.\nFitted to move in any rank of life, and to command the respect\nand esteem of a large circle, who would feel proud to enjoy your\nfriendship and society, you seem determined to descend even to the\nlowest, and gather up the fragments of a fanatical felicity among\nthe evangelical professors who abound among us. My peace is gone,\nbecause yours is wrecked; and my hopes of your future respectability\nare all vanished. I certainly did expect that you would comply with\nmy request to accompany us to Mr. Denham's, when I solicited it as\na personal favour; but I now perceive that your religion has taught\nyou how to refuse a parent's request; and if the first-fruits are\ndisobedience, what will be the issue? After all the pains that I\nhave bestowed on the cultivation of your mind, and the bleeding\nanxiety of my heart during your protracted illness, to see you now\ncome forth to contemn the elegant accomplishments of social life,\nand the society of those with whom you have been accustomed to\nmingle with so much delight and _eclat_, is a calamity which will\nbring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?\"\n\nMiss Roscoe was too much affected by this severe and unexpected\naddress, to make any reply; and though she endeavoured to suppress\nher feelings, yet she was obliged to retire to her own room, where\na flood of tears gave her some relief. When somewhat composed,\nshe opened her Bible, and the following passage struck her eye:\n\"Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess\nalso before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny\nme before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in\nheaven. Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I come not\nto send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance\nagainst his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the\ndaughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a man's foes shall\nbe they of his own household\" (Matt. x. 32-36). The remarks of\nher favourite commentator, Scott, strengthened her views of the\npassage, and she felt more and more that it was her duty to act\nconsistently with her religious principles, though she might incur\nthe displeasure of her parents.\n\nSoon after this conversation took place, a select party came to\nspend the evening at the Roscoes'; and, after tea, the cards were\nintroduced as usual.\n\n\"I shall be happy,\" said the Rev. Mr. Cole (addressing himself to\nMiss Roscoe), \"to have you for a partner at whist.\"\n\n\"I am sorry, Sir, to deny you any request, but I cannot comply with\nthe one which you have just made.\"\n\n\"Indeed! why, we have often spent the evening in this amusing\nmanner, and I hope we shall spend many more.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, we have; but it is not my intention to consume any future\nportion of my time in such an amusement.\"\n\n\"But do you think that there is any moral evil in it?\"\n\n\"It has, in my opinion, _the appearance of evil_, from which _we are\ncommanded to abstain_.\"\n\n\"But of two evils is it not the wisest maxim to choose the least?\nand is it not a smaller evil _to amuse ourselves at cards, than, as\nis often the case at evening parties, to play at scandal and defame\nthe reputation of others_?\"\n\n\"Unquestionably; but I presume that a wise and good man would avoid\nboth these evils.\"\n\n\"But I am not aware that any evil can arise from this amusing\nexercise.\"\n\n\"Does it not consume that time which ought to be devoted to a more\nprofitable purpose? Does it not frequently give excitement to those\npassions of our nature which ought to be repressed? Does it not\nencourage a passion for gaming, which, we know, has involved many in\nentire ruin?\"\n\n\"But that is the abuse of the thing.\"\n\n\"Nay, Sir, I think it is the natural tendency of it.\"\n\n\"But are we to have no amusements because some indulge in them\nto excess? Is life to pass away in a dull, monotonous routine of\nduty? Are we always to live in a state of exile from the charms\nand fascinations of social intercourse? Is the mind never to relax\nitself amidst the diversions of polished society? Must we ever keep\nup our attention to the sombrous claims of religion, and always\nthink, and speak, and act, as though we were treading on the verge\nof an awful eternity? Indeed, I give it as my decided opinion, that\nthat species of religion which interdicts these amusements, cannot\nclaim a divine origin, because it is opposed to human happiness.\"\n\n\"That species of religion, as you are pleased to call it, does claim\na divine origin, and, perhaps, if you examine its claims, you will\nfind them attested by the spirit of the New Testament. Permit me\nto ask you one question, and I am willing that your answer shall\ndecide the question at issue between us--Do you believe that if\nJesus Christ or any of his apostles were now present, they would\nconsent to pass away the hours of this evening in such an exercise\nas playing a game of cards?\"\n\n\"Perhaps not, but they were extraordinary persons, and their virtue\nkept them from many sources of amusement from which we, who are more\nfrail, may very innocently draw a portion of our pleasure.\"\n\n\"Then you admit that it is our frailty that leads us to such\namusements, and that if _we possessed more exalted virtue_ we should\navoid them?\"\n\n\"You reason excellently well, Madam, against the amusement; but\n_such is the frailty_ of our nature, that I fear the passion cannot\nbe subdued with such a weapon.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not, Sir.\"\n\n\"Pray, Madam, what amusements would you sanction?\"\n\n\"Those which would afford me pleasure on reflection, and in which I\ncould be engaged in my last moments.\"\n\n\"The apparent delight with which evangelical professors anticipate\ntheir _last_ moments, is a tacit acknowledgment that the present are\ndull and insipid.\"\n\n\"We anticipate our last moments, Sir, with awe, mingled with\ndelight, and though you may imagine that our present moments are\ndull and insipid, yet, I assure you, you are mistaken. We have\nour sources of happiness, but card-playing is not included in the\nnumber.\"\n\n\"I cannot but think that evangelical religion has an antisocial\ntendency, and would, if generally prevalent, deprive us of all our\ninnocent recreations.\"\n\n\"Evangelical religion, like the religion of the New Testament,\nrequires us not to be conformed to this world, but to be transformed\nin the renewing of our mind, and it produces a distaste for those\nfrivolous and pernicious amusements in which the votaries of\nthis world delight; but I am not aware that it has an antisocial\ntendency, unless you mean by that expression, that its tendency is\nto mark out the essential difference between a real Christian and\none who bears only the name.\"\n\n\"Why, we are all Christians, and good Christians, too; but our\nChristianity does not teach us to wait the arrival of death before\nwe can be happy.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, there are the pleasures of sin, which we are commanded to\nforsake for the recompense of reward.\"\n\n\"And, Madam, there are the pleasures of innocence, which are as\nsweet and as sacred as the joys of angels.\"\n\n\"But I cannot suppose that you include card-playing among the\npleasures of innocence.\"\n\n\"Most certainly I do!\"\n\n\"Then, do you imagine that our old friend, Mr Lock, is of the same\nopinion, who in an evening was reduced from a state of affluence to\na state of poverty?\"\n\n\"Why, that was an unlucky night for him, certainly; but you know we\ndo not play for more than we can afford to lose.\"\n\n\"I think, Sir, with all due deference to your judgment, that every\none who plays at this game of innocence stakes more than he can\nafford to lose.\"\n\n\"You are, indeed, an ingenious casuist, and I wish to know how you\ncan prove the correctness of your assertion.\"\n\n\"Can you afford to lose your temper?\"\n\n\"If I do lose it I can easily recover it again.\"\n\n\"You may, Sir, but can others?\"\n\n\"If they cannot, they are to blame.\"\n\n\"_Then, Sir, this game of innocence is found on experiment, first,\nto destroy the placidity of the temper, and then to involve its\nabettors in censure._ But there is often more staked in this game\nthan the loss of temper.\"\n\n\"What is there, Madam?\"\n\n\"The loss of friendship. You know that the families of the Orrs and\nthe Humes have never met in any party since the quarrel which took\nplace two years since at Brushwood House.\"\n\n\"Why, that was a very serious affair, certainly, but you know that\nsuch quarrels rarely happen.\"\n\n\"Nay, Sir, they often happen, only friends interpose and effect a\nreconciliation. But with such facts imprinted on our memory, can we\nsay that such a game is the game of innocence?\"\n\n\"I think, Madam, you are rather too severe, for you must allow that\nit often beguiles away many a languid hour.\"\n\n\"Which hours, Sir, ought to be spent in preparation for immortality.\"\n\n\"You veer, Madam, towards death, from whatever point of the compass\nyou set out.\"\n\n\"And, Sir, death is veering towards us, in whatever employments we\nare engaged; but would you like to feel his fatal infliction when\nseated at a card-table, or returning from a theatre?\"\n\n\"Too grave; much too grave, Madam, to be pleasant.\"\n\n\n\n\nFRESH PERPLEXITIES.\n\n\nMrs. Denham was not one of the select party that met at Mr.\nRoscoe's, as she had accompanied her husband to Bath, where he was\ndetained longer than he expected, having some important family\nmatters to adjust with the executors of a deceased uncle. On the day\nafter her return home, when sitting quietly by herself in her little\nback parlour, working away hard and fast with her knitting needles,\nMiss Denham came in, took a seat by her side, and thus began:--\n\n\"Do you know, mamma, that Miss Roscoe is become so religious, that\nshe actually refused the Rev. Mr. Cole as a partner at cards, at Mr.\nRoscoe's party, and said so many hard things against card-playing,\nand brought forward so many arguments from some old Puritanical\nbook, that he was at times quite disconcerted?\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, and it is enough to disconcert any good Christian to\nhave religious subjects introduced at our convivial parties.\"\n\n\"O yes, mamma, exactly so. I think if we are religious on a Sunday,\nit is as much as ought to be expected. Our Maker can't expect more.\nDo you think he can, ma'?\"\n\n\"Certainly not, my dear; if he did, we should have had two Sundays\nin the week, instead of one.\"\n\n\"Well, ma', I really wonder how it is that Miss Roscoe has become\nso religious all at once. What a pity. I suppose she must be very\nunhappy.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, that you may depend on. Her parents are nearly\nbroken-hearted. Dear Mrs. Roscoe says that all their peace is gone;\nand they really dread the consequences. She has positively refused\nto attend our ball on Friday week.\"\n\n\"Is it possible? I wish I had known it, I would have reasoned the\npoint with her. I will go and see her. I think I can persuade her,\nbecause I recollect putting aside an engagement one night last\nwinter to go with her to see the _Beggar's Opera_.\"\n\n\"Ah! my dear, when this evangelical religion, as it is called, takes\npossession of a person's mind, it is no use to attempt to reason or\ntry persuasion--reason has nothing to do with it.\"\n\n\"Then, mamma, it must be a very unreasonable thing.\"\n\n\"Exactly so, my dear, and I hope you will avoid its snares.\"\n\n\"Dear mamma, I really wonder that you should consider it necessary\nto give such a hint; I assure you I have no prepossessions in its\nfavour. Indeed, it is not my intention to trouble myself at all\nabout religion yet; of course, I shall go to church along with you\nand papa, and take the sacrament once or twice a-year. That will do,\nwon't it, ma'?\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, our Maker won't desire more from such a young person\nas yourself. But still it will be necessary to avoid all intercourse\nwith those religious people who are known to be evangelical; for the\nRev. Mr. Cole says he thinks that there is something of a bewitching\nnature in it, as it is known sometimes to overcome those who have\nthe greatest antipathies against it.\"\n\n\"Why, mamma, you quite alarm me. Then no one is safe. Is it\npossible for me ever to take to this evangelical religion? O, I\nwould rather enter a nunnery at once, and take the veil for life.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, and I would rather you should; but still I deem it\nprudent to give you a hint to be on your guard; for I heard you,\na short time since, drop some expressions, when speaking of Mrs.\nStevens, which quite alarmed me.\"\n\n\"Indeed, mamma! I don't recollect it. I certainly think Mrs.\nStevens a most amiable lady; and though she may have rather too\nmuch religion, yet she is very accomplished, and a most interesting\ncompanion.\"\n\n\"She is amiable and accomplished, but I think her _a most dangerous\ncompanion_.\"\n\n\"What! the amiable Mrs. Stevens a dangerous companion? Why, mamma,\nshe is a truly virtuous and lovely woman.\"\n\n\"She is so, my dear, and that makes her so dangerous. She is always\naiming at proselyting others to her religion, and such is the\nbewitching charm of her eloquence, and such the fascination of her\nmanners, that she scarcely ever fails. Why, do you know, though I am\nashamed to confess it, she nearly got me over to her religion when I\nwas with her by myself one evening last winter.\"\n\n\"Dear ma', you quite surprise me. _You_ nearly made an\n_Evangelical_! Did you ever tell pa' about it, and what did he say?\"\n\n\"O, no, my dear, I never mentioned it before to any one; and I\nshould not like to have it repeated.\"\n\n\"I may just mention it to Mr. Ryder, as a curiosity in the economy\nof life.\"\n\n\"No, no, I beg you won't; it will make me so much talked about, and\nit will induce her to make another effort. But, as I was saying,\nyou really must be on your guard. You have not my fortitude and\nself-possession. She is a most beguiling woman, and has so much\ntact. She easily accommodates herself to the taste of her visitors,\nshe bribes the poor by her benevolence, fascinates the young by her\npleasantry, and entangles the thoughtless by her arguments. No one\nis safe who associates with her.\"\n\n\"But, mamma, I do not think she would proselyte me, for I have no\npredilection for religion. It is too gloomy a subject to suit my\ntaste. Indeed, I do not understand it; though every now and then I\nam tempted to wish I did; I have at times such strange thoughts and\nfeelings.\"\n\n\"Of course, you know, my dear, it is a duty you owe the Almighty to\nresist an evil temptation.\"\n\n\"Exactly so; but is it not odd that I should ever be tempted\nto a thing for which I have no predilection, and which I don't\nunderstand? But, ma', I am under an engagement to take tea with Mrs.\nStevens and Miss Roscoe next week--what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Decline, of course, my dear.\"\n\n\"But the time is fixed.\"\n\n\"You can send a note, _and plead indisposition as an apology for\nabsence_.\"\n\n\"But would that be honourable, if I should not be indisposed?\"\n\n\"You know it is fashionable.\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma, but I have long felt a great dislike against the\nfashionable habit of sacrificing truth to expedience. I cannot do\nit. I have no strong desire to become religious, but I wish to\nbe virtuous; and I think an inviolable regard to truth the very\nfoundation of virtue.\"\n\n\"Very true, my dear; I am pleased with your remark, it discovers a\nvirtuous mind; but you must not be too scrupulous. You will find\nit impossible always to avoid the customs of fashionable life; for\nthough some of them are open to the censures of the strict moralist,\nyet they have been too long established to be changed.\"\n\n\"But, mamma, I should think it wrong to comply with any custom\nwhich pure morality condemns. When I was at Mr. Travers's, the\nhousemaid, who had been in the family seven years, and who was\ngreatly respected, was called up into the parlour and discharged\nat a moment's warning. She wished to know the cause. Mrs. Travers\nsaid to her, 'I have detected you in so many falsehoods, that I\ncannot believe a word you say.' She took up her wages, and said,\n'Who taught me to speak untruth? When I came into your service, I\ncame uncorrupted; I abhorred a lie, but did you not compel me to\nthe habit? Was I not forced to say, when you were unwilling to see\ncompany, that you were ill, or from home; and if mistresses teach\nservants to lie, ought they to be discharged when detected?'\"\n\n\"How insolent! Did not Mr. Travers force her out of the house?\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma, he resented the insult; but after she was gone, he\nsaid, 'I hope the truth will always be spoken in future; for if we\ncompel our servants to falsify for our convenience, we ought not to\nbe astonished if they do so for their own.'\"\n\n\"Well, my dear, with your high notions of virtue, I do not see how\nyou can excuse yourself from Mrs. Stevens's; but let me entreat you\nto be on your guard, for we live, as the apostle says, in perilous\ntimes. I would rather follow you to the grave than see you infected\nwith a religious contagion; and I am sure your papa would disown\nyou.\"\n\n\"Dear mamma, I wonder that you should harbour any suspicions. It\nis not my intention to become religious yet. Indeed, if I were, my\nreligion must tolerate all the fashionable gaieties. You know I\nam fond of cards and concerts, of balls and plays; and as for the\nBible, I assure you that I have not read it since I left school.\nIt is too grave to suit my taste, and so mystical that I cannot\nunderstand it. Indeed, I have my doubts about it; particularly since\nour acquaintance with the Ryders. Mr. John is quite a sceptic; he is\nvery clever, and his arguments are so powerful!\"\n\n\"I have no wish that you should become a sceptic, my dear; it would\nmake you so much talked about.\"\n\n\"Exactly so, mamma; I know it is not fashionable for ladies to\nbecome sceptics, but Miss Sims affects to be one, and really boasts\nof it, which sadly mortifies her sister Amelia. However, I have made\nup my mind to keep to the good old religion of our church; though\nMr. John Ryder said the other evening, in a large party, he expected\nto make a convert of me.\"\n\n\"I admire your firmness. Yes, keep to the church, and you will be\nsure to go to heaven when your Maker takes you out of this world!\"\n\n\"You think I shall, ma'.\"\n\n\"To be sure, my dear. Our Maker could not object to take such a\ndear lovely girl as you are to heaven, to live amongst the happy\ninnocents there.\"\n\n\"That's a beautiful thought. Sceptics don't expect to go to heaven,\ndo they, mamma?\"\n\n\"No, my dear.\"\n\n\"Where will they go?\"\n\n\"I don't know, and I don't think they know themselves. I once heard\nyour papa say, they expect death will snuff them out of existence as\nwe snuff out the flame of a candle.\"\n\n\"Do they really believe this? What a sad pity--snuffed out of\nexistence. I shall never forget the expression. I'll repeat it to\nMr. John Ryder the next time he calls; I wonder what he will say?\"\n\n\"He will only laugh at it.\"\n\n\"Laugh at being snuffed out of existence! No, mamma, I will never\nbecome a sceptic, to be snuffed out of existence. I would rather\nturn an evangelical, for they, when death comes, are in ecstasy, in\nanticipation of eternal life and happiness in another and better\nworld.\"\n\n\"What a loud ring, I wonder, ma', who it can be; but it does not\nmatter, we are dressed to receive company.\" The servant entered with\nthe cards of Miss Dorothy Brownjohn, and her sister Susan, who, of\ncourse, had been ushered into the drawing-room.\n\n\"I am so glad to see you; do be seated, ladies. Well, this is a\npleasure I did not expect when I rose this morning, though I said\nlast night, when looking at the coal leaf waving on the bar of\nour parlour grate, that we should have company to-day. We should\nhave made a call on you, as we missed you at the sacrament last\nSunday week, only I have been to Bath with Mr. Denham. We were all\nprodigiously affected, as we thought you were ill.\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Miss Susan, \"we haven't been exactly ill, but it was\nall hurry and bustle with us that week, and I could not get through\nmy preparation reading and prayers, to fit me for the sacrament.\"\n\n\"I think my sister,\" said Miss Dorothy, \"is too scrupulous, and I\ntell her, that if she can't get done all the preparation reading and\nprayers, the Almighty will overlook it, and so would Mr. Cole.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, yes, to be sure he would. Why, I had not time that week to\nread a single extra prayer; we had company in the house every day\nand night.\"\n\n\"The principal purpose of our calling on you this morning, dear Mrs.\nDenham, is to ask you if you know any one who would suit us in the\ncapacity of a cook.\"\n\n\"What, are you going to part with the old cook who has been with you\nso many years?\"\n\n\"Oh dear, yes,\" said Miss Susan, \"and I wish we had got rid of her\nat the beginning. Since she has got infected with the rector's new\nreligion, she has not been the same woman she once was.\"\n\n\"Yes, there is an obvious difference,\" said Miss Dorothy, \"in her\nspirit, and appearance, and manners, which I cannot account for.\"\n\n\"Does she neglect her duties?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Miss Susan, \"she does not neglect her work; if she did\nI should soon be after her. She used to sing a good song, and be as\nmerry as a cricket; but no singing now, except some odd psalm; and\nshe never appears happy but when going to church, or reading her\nBible; and she is trying to get over the rest of the servants to her\nreligion.\"\n\n\"Have you given her notice to leave?\"\n\n\"Oh no, not exactly. I'll tell you, dear Mrs. Denham, how it was. I\nheard a whisper amongst the rest of the servants that the cook got\nup before them in the morning, and sat up after them at night; and\nI was determined to find it out, and the reason of it, for it did\nnot look well; now, did it? So one night, when all the rest were\ngone to bed, I went down stairs very softly, and looked through the\nkeyhole, and saw her reading her Bible; and I made up an excuse\nfor going in; and I said to her, 'I think, cook, sleep would do you\nmore good at this hour than that book, sitting up wasting fire and\ncandle;' and she gave me such an insolent reply, that she ruffled\nmy temper very much. She said, 'If I thought so, Ma'am, I should be\nin bed, but I like a little reading out of God's book before I go\nto rest; and if I do my work to your satisfaction, as I hope I do,\nI think you have no cause for complaint.' And the next morning she\nactually gave notice to leave.\"\n\n\"And I am sorry to say,\" added Miss Dorothy, \"that just before we\nleft home, the housemaid gave _me_ notice.\"\n\n\"Why, sister, you did not tell me that. This is all our rector's\ndoings. We were living as peaceably as a nestling of birds, till he\nbegan to preach the new doctrines of the new birth, and faith, and\nsalvation by grace. I am sometimes tempted to wish myself in heaven,\nout of the way of these domestic miseries.\"\n\n\"Mr. Cole, in his sermon on Sunday morning, said that this\nevangelical religion is a spiritual epidemic; it spreads by the\npower of sympathy, and affects all alike. It is a prodigious evil.\"\n\n\"That's true; we will have no more of it in _our_ family,\" said Miss\nDorothy, \"for our next servants shall engage not to go and hear our\nrector, and I will substitute the prayer-book for the Bible, for the\nservants to read.\"\n\n\"Very proper,\" said Mrs. Denham, \"that venerable book will do them\nno harm.\"\n\n\"They may read that,\" said Miss Susan, \"and welcome. It will never\nmake them miserable, nor keep them up late at night.\"\n\n\"Then, ladies, you are in want of two servants?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Miss Susan, \"and two who like to read the prayer-book\nbetter than the Bible, and won't go to hear any of the evangelicals.\"\n\n\"Shall we see you at church next Sunday; Mr. Cole is going to preach\na charity sermon for our Sunday-school.\"\n\n\"What, have you a Sunday-school?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Cole felt compelled to set up one in self-defence, for he\nfound the children all going off to a school kept by some of the\nevangelicals, and their parents followed them. We haven't many.\"\n\n\"For a Sunday-school,\" said Miss Dorothy, \"in self-defence, there\nis some excuse, otherwise I would not give it my sanction; I hope\nyou are very careful what you teach the children, otherwise you will\nlift them up with pride, and they will not work as servants ought to\ndo.\"\n\n\"Mr. Cole won't have anything taught in the school but the Church\ncatechism.\"\n\n\"They may learn that,\" said Miss Susan, \"and welcome; it won't do\nthem any harm. Yes, you may expect us on Sunday, and perhaps then,\nMrs. Denham, you may be able to tell us if you can help us to any\nservant who will comply with our terms--read the prayer-book, and\nnot go near any of the evangelicals.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS PARTY.\n\n\nThere was at Mr. Stevens's a select but not a large party. The\nconversation was of a desultory nature till after tea, when Miss\nRoscoe was requested to favour the company with a little music.\nShe seated herself at the piano, and sung the following hymn with\nconsiderable effect:\n\n    \"O my Lord, I've often mused\n       On thy wondrous love to me;\n     How I have the same abused,\n       Slighted, disregarded Thee!\n\n    \"To thy church and Thee a stranger;\n       Pleas'd with what displeased Thee;\n     Lost, yet could perceive no danger;\n       Wounded, yet no wound could see.\n\n    \"But, unwearied, Thou pursu'dst me;\n       Still thy calls repeated came,\n     Till on Calvary's mount I view'd Thee,\n       Bearing my reproach and blame.\n\n    \"Then o'erwhelmed with shame and sorrow,\n       Whilst I view each pierced limb,\n     Tears bedew the scourge's furrow,\n       Mingling with the purple stream.\n\n    \"I no more at Mary wonder,\n       Dropping tears upon the grave--\n     Earnest asking all around her,\n       Where is he who died to save?\n\n    \"Dying love her heart attracted,\n       Soon she felt its rising pow'r;\n     He who Mary thus affected,\n       Bids his mourners weep no more.\"\n\n\"I scarcely know which to admire most,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"the\nair or the hymn itself; there is plaintive melancholy in the music\nwhich accords with my feelings, and an exquisite delicacy in some\nof the expressions of the hymn, which I greatly like. How touching\nthe allusion to our former state of indifference and insensibility!\nHow correct the beautiful reference to the moral efficacy of the\nSaviour's death in exciting sorrow for sin! But the last stanza, in\nmy opinion, is the most soothing and consolatory--\n\n    'He who Mary thus affected,\n    Bids his mourners weep no more.'\"\n\n\"It is a favourite hymn of mine,\" observed Mr. Lewellin; \"and the\nlast stanza, to which you refer, brings to my recollection the lines\nof Cowper:--\n\n    'But with a soul that ever felt the sting\n    Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing.'\n\nBut no sorrow is so deep and pungent as that which the mind\nusually feels when pierced by the convictions of guilt; and yet\nthere is a sacredness in the passion which distinguishes it from\nunmingled anguish or grief. When first excited, it often occasions\ndeep mental depression; but when relief is obtained, by a clear\nperception of the way of salvation through faith in the death of\nJesus Christ, it is turned into a spring of grateful joy.\"\n\n\"But the generality of professing Christians,\" said Miss Roscoe,\n\"scornfully reject those religious sentiments which commence their\nmoral operations by inflicting pain in the mind. They are religious,\nbut their religious opinions are not permitted to excite either\nthe passion of sorrow or of joy; and as soon as a person begins to\n_feel_ what he believes, he is denounced a fanatic.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Mr. Lewellin, \"when a person begins to feel the\nmoral efficacy of the truth, he is regarded by many as falling into\na state of idiotcy, or rising to a pitch of frenzy. We may feel\nthe charm of music, but not the charm of devotional sentiment; we\nmay be depressed when we give offence to an endeared friend, but\na recollection of our transgressions against our Father who is in\nheaven must occasion no regret; the imagination may be delighted\nby captivating scenery, but not with the sublime visions of future\nbliss. No! An excitement which takes its rise in such causes is\nconsidered by the semi-Christians of the present age as a certain\nindication of a disordered intellect or degenerated taste.\"\n\n\"The veil of ignorance,\" observed the Rev. Mr. Guion, \"which is\nthrown over the mind of the unregenerate, renders them incapable\nof forming any clear perceptions of the nature or design of the\ngospel. They reduce the whole of religion to a human arrangement,\nwhich merely requires an external homage to an established formula;\nand conclude that after they have uttered the solemn responses of\nthe Liturgy, listened to the sermon which the clergyman delivers,\nand taken the sacrament, they have discharged the whole of their\nduty towards God; and as they have no clear perceptions of revealed\ntruth, they cannot have any powerful religious impressions. Their\nheart is as cold during the service as the marble slab which bears\ndown to succeeding generations the names of the deceased of past\nages; and as they never feel deep sorrow for sin, nor ardent love\nfor an unseen Redeemer, we ought not to be astonished if they treat\nwith contempt the excitement of such emotions in the breast of\nothers.\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" replied Miss Roscoe; \"I very well recollect being\nmuch surprised when I accidentally heard a little girl singing the\nfollowing verse of a hymn, which I now much admire:--\n\n    ''Tis religion that can give\n    Sweetest pleasures while we live;\n    'Tis religion must supply\n    Solid comforts when we die.'\n\nI was quite incapable of conceiving how religion could give\n_pleasure_. I compared a religious service with a concert; and while\nthe recollection of the one produced a pleasant feeling, the other\nappeared dull and insipid. I compared a Sabbath-day with another\nday, and regretted that custom had set it apart for observances\nwhich were repugnant to my taste. If I went to church, I felt no\ninterest in the service; and if I stayed away, I was unconscious of\nhaving sustained any loss of mental improvement or enjoyment.\"\n\n\"But I presume,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"that _now_ you can trace the\nconnection between religion and pleasure.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; there is an inseparable connection between the influence\nof religious truth on the heart, and the highest degree of mental\nenjoyment; it brings the soul into a new world of being, where\nobjects, unseen by the natural eye, disclose their beauties;\nand truths, unfelt by the unrenewed mind, excite a joy which is\nunspeakable. Now I can understand the Scriptures; the Saviour is\ninvested with overpowering charms, and the futurity which stretches\nbeyond the grave, presents a clear and spacious scene of bliss to my\nimagination.\"\n\n\"How naturally,\" observed Mr. Guion, \"the mind of an enlightened\nChristian associates the hope of future happiness with the name\nof the Redeemer. How cheering and animating to believe that after\nthe sorrows and turmoils of this life have ceased, we shall enter\ninto rest. What a scene of sublime grandeur will open on us then,\nenkindling emotions of astonishment and joyous delight infinitely\nbeyond any ever previously felt!\"\n\n\"I admit,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"that the external beauties of the\nheavenly world will impart a high degree of delight, but the society\nof the place will constitute the chief source of felicity. We shall\nbehold the Son of God seated on his throne of majesty and grace.\nHe is the perfection of beauty, and his form is as glorious as his\nnature is pure. What an impression will be produced _when_ we see\nhim face to face!\"\n\n\"I love,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"to think of heaven as the\ndwelling-place of my Redeemer. The very anticipation of the first\ninterview with him whom unseen I love and adore, excites a feeling\nin my soul, rich in all that is sacred and delightful. I have, it is\ntrue, many ties which bind me to earth, yet there are seasons when I\ncan sing the ardent language of the poet without a faltering accent--\n\n    'Where Jesus dwells my soul would be,\n    And faints my glorious Lord to see;\n    Earth, twine no more about my heart,\n    For 'tis far better to depart.'\"\n\nI had as yet taken no part in the conversation, but this reference\nto Jesus Christ now living in the celestial world, led me to remark\nthat the sufferings he endured when on earth were a decisive\nproof that he came to accomplish some wonderful ulterior design.\nWe know, from the testimony of the Word of God, that there are\nbeings in heaven of divers rank and order; but from what has taken\nplace, and what is still taking place in the economy of the Divine\nprocedure, we find that a new order of beings is to be called into\nexistence, and one which is to take precedence of all others--to\nstand out conspicuously for the admiration of all worlds, as the\nmost marvellous specimens of the creating power of God. But instead\nof putting forth his creative power, as when the angelic orders\nwere called into existence, the Lord Jesus himself, in human form,\ncomes into the dark and wicked world, and, out of the most impure\nelements, moulds a people for himself, whom he will acknowledge as\nhis brethren, and to whom the angels of God are to act for ever as\nministering spirits.\n\nMr. Lewellin replied: \"We are accustomed to say that the facts of\nreal life are often more startling and surprising than the wildest\nconceptions of romance, but the fact to which you have just given\nsuch a prominency is one which must have taken all beings, of\nall worlds, by surprise; the lowest and the meanest in the scale\nof intelligence, if not the most polluted and the most vile, are\nadvanced, through the condescending grace of the Lord Jesus Christ,\nto stand at the head of the intelligent creation of God.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"to be a redeemed sinner, when the\nulterior purpose of Jesus Christ is actually accomplished in us,\nwill be regarded as a nobler mark of distinction than to be an\narchangel.\"\n\n\"Yes, the angels of God are the _servants_ of the celestial\nestablishment, but redeemed sinners are the sons of God, fashioned\nlike unto the glorious form of Jesus Christ himself, each one being\nthe express image of Jehovah's person.\"\n\nAn allusion having been made to the impression which must have been\nmade on the minds of the apostles when gazing on the ascension of\nJesus Christ, I mentioned that I had recently heard an intimate\nfriend give a graphic description of the scene, in a discourse\ndelivered in his own chapel, and, at my request, he was kind enough\nto give me a copy of it. As it bore an emphatic relation to the\nsubject of our conversation, I then read it to the party:--\n\n\"When going with his apostles from Jerusalem to Bethany, he stops,\nand stops somewhat abruptly, as though under the impulse of some\nnew thought--they also stop; and when he lifts up his hands, they\ngather around him; he speaks--they listen with fixed eagerness of\nattention; he blesses them, though in what form of expression we\nare not told; they feel the power of his blessing diffusing through\ntheir soul an indescribable sensation of calm and ecstatic joy;\nstill looking on him with intense earnestness, at once expressive of\ntheir confidence and their love, they suddenly see a movement, and\nare startled, but not affrighted; he moves, he rises above them, and\nenters a trackless pathway, on which no one but himself could tread;\nhe is parted from them, gradually ascending higher and higher, till\nat length a bright cloud receives him, and he disappears out of\ntheir sight. They are petrified to the spot, not by terror, but\namazement; no one speaks--all instinctively feel that the spot is\ntoo hallowed for sounds of human utterance. Two messengers from the\ncelestial world break the silence of ecstatic wonder, saying, 'Ye\nmen of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus,\nwhich is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner\nas ye have seen him go into heaven.' The apostles bow in reverential\nawe, and on the spot on which he stood before he was parted from\nthem, they kneel down and worship him, and then return to Jerusalem\nwith great joy.\n\n\"With what raptures did the celestial spirits hail his return,\nand with what joyful awe did they witness his re-investure with\nthe glory he had with the Father before the world was. A new and\nnever-to-be-forgotten era in the annals of immortality is now begun;\nthe new dispensation of mediatorial grace and love, for which\nthe events of four thousand years had been a preparation, is now\nestablished; inaugurated into his office as a king and a priest on\nhis throne, he presents to the joyous spectators the first redeemed\nsinner brought from earth to grace his triumphs. And who is selected\nfor this novel manifestation of his power and his love? A man of\ngenius? a man of rank? a man of Platonic virtue or of Socratic fame?\nNo: a man of crime! who but a few days before was hanging on a\ncross of infamy and torture, reviling him who is now presenting him\nfaultless before the presence of the Most High, amidst the praises\nof myriads of celestial spirits. What a wondrous scene!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Guion, \"that is a scene I should like to have\nbeheld, but the resurrection will surpass it in awful grandeur; and\nthis we shall all see.\"\n\nThis animating conversation excited a degree of feeling which I\nam not able to describe. Every countenance beamed with delight,\nand even Miss Denham, who had been a mere listener, manifested an\ninterest in it which I was rather surprised to witness. At length\nMr. Stevens rang the bell, when the servants entered the parlour,\nand Mr. Guion, after reading a portion of the Scriptures, engaged\nin prayer. He was solemn and devout, and though no visions of\nglory were seen, nor any supernatural voices heard, yet the Divine\npresence was eminently enjoyed, and we rose from our knees and sang--\n\n    \"The world knows nothing of the joys\n       That Christian fellowship supplies;\n     Enamour'd of their glitt'ring toys,\n       Our hopes seem nothing in their eyes.\n\n    \"But we can witness what we know,\n       And speak aloud, nor care who hears;\n     Our joys from heavenly sources flow,\n       And would be ill exchanged for theirs.\n\n    \"We envy not the great and wise;\n       We count ourselves more blest than they:\n     We're taught their honours to despise,\n       And from their joys to turn away.\n\n    \"'Twill soon appear who serve the Lord,\n       And who are they who serve him not:\n     Then let us hold his faithful word,\n       And ours will be a glorious lot.\"\n\nOn resuming our seats, Mrs. Stevens said: \"I think that _all_ the\npleasures of religion are not reserved for another world. There are\nsome which we may partake of in this, and one of the most gratifying\nis the pleasure of doing good to others.\"\n\nShe then read to us a letter she had received from an aged\nDissenting minister, who had a large family and a very limited\nincome, imploring her generous assistance to enable him to extricate\nhimself from some pecuniary embarrassments.\n\n\"I am a clergyman,\" said Mr. Guion, \"and feel no disposition to\nleave the church, but I know how to respect a Dissenting minister,\nand to sympathize with him in his afflictions. But this good man\nwants something more than sympathy, and I feel thankful that it is\nin my power to offer it.\"\n\n\"I have already collected a few pounds,\" said Mrs. Stevens,\n\"which, with the addition of your liberal donation, will be a very\nacceptable present.\"\n\n\"The charity of bigotry,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"is restricted in\nits sympathies, and, like the Levite, will pass by the sufferer\nif he belong to another denomination, without extending relief;\nbut the benevolence of the gospel, like the good Samaritan, asks\nno invidious questions, weeps with them that weep, and rejoices\nwith them that rejoice, and rising to an elevation which renders\nthe landmarks of religious distinctions invisible, pours down its\ncharities upon all who are in trouble.\"\n\n\"I assure you, Sir,\" replied Mr. Guion, \"that as I advance in\nlife and become more imbued with the love of the truth, I feel an\nincreasing attachment to real Christians of every denomination,\nparticularly the faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. When I first\ntook orders I was a first-rate bigot; I resolved to have nothing\nto do with Dissenters. I despised them. I contemned our venerable\nfriend Mr. Ingleby for his liberality, and refused to associate with\nhim because he associated with some pious Dissenters. I thought that\nas they left the church they should be banished from all intercourse\nwith our society; and such was the degree of my hostility towards\nthem, that it would have given me pleasure to have seen them sent to\nsome distant colony, where they could live by themselves. But since\nit hath pleased God to call me out of the darkness of ignorance in\nwhich I was involved, into his marvellous light, and shed abroad his\nlove in my soul by the power of the Holy Ghost, I have cherished\nthe pure benevolence of the gospel, and now recognize all as\nfellow-heirs of the grace of life who bear the image and breathe the\nspirit of Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"that the spirit of bigotry is\ndecidedly antichristian, as it separates those from each other who\nare redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, and it has a natural\ntendency to excite strong aversion in the minds of unbelievers\nagainst religion; hence we ought to watch and pray, lest we should\nbe imperceptibly injured by it.\"\n\n\"But do you think,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"that it is possible for a\nreal Christian to possess an atom of bigotry?\"\n\n\"An atom!\" exclaimed Mr. Lewellin, \"I know some who are enslaved by\nit.\"\n\n\"What! and Christians?\" said Miss Roscoe.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Indeed! I should have thought it impossible. But you would not\nadduce their bigotry as an evidence of their personal religion?\"\n\n\"O no, it is an evidence of their personal weakness.\"\n\n\"From such a spirit, Sir, I hope we shall ever be preserved. I would\nshun it as much for its meanness as I do for its malignity; and look\non it as a demon who destroys the harmony which ought to prevail\namong all who rest their hope in Christ.\"\n\n\n\n\nMISS ROSCOE.\n\n\nIt was near the end of the following week ere Miss Roscoe and Mrs.\nStevens again met. After some remarks from Mrs. Stevens upon the\nevident depression of her friend's spirits, Miss Roscoe observed:\n\n\"Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last week, I have felt the\nextremes of anguish and of joy. My life is indeed a chequered one,\nand I often wonder how the scene will end.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, the life of _every Christian_ is a chequered life.\nHe is liable to a continued change of feeling, and the scene of\nProvidence is ever shifting; the current of his history may run\non for a season in a smooth and even course, but it is constantly\nexposed to obstructions. Joy and grief are very delicate passions;\nand as they have such a powerful influence over us, it is wisely\nordained that we shall not be kept in a state of perpetual\nexcitement. They come in as with a flood of feeling; but, instead of\nlaying waste the mind, they often become the means of enriching it\nwith the most nutritious consolations.\"\n\n\"But how difficult it is to control grief, when it springs out of a\ndomestic calamity.\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear, you have no new domestic trial.\"\n\n\"I am not aware that I have a new one, but I have one that has\ninflicted a most poignant wound, and I know not what steps to take.\nMy dear parents manifest the most decided hostility to my religious\nopinions and habits. When they confined their hostility within the\nbounds of argument and persuasion, I found it comparatively easy to\nmaintain the contest; but now they begin to reproach me, and I fear\ntheir attachment is on the decline. To survive the loss of their\naffection, I think, will be to live too long for my own peace. Where\nshall I find another home? Where shall I find another father? Where\nshall I find happiness when my parents cease to love me and regard\nme as their daughter?\"\n\n\"Though your parents are hostile to your religious opinions\nand habits, their hostility will not continue always. They are\ndisappointed by your not appearing in that circle of society in\nwhich they expected you to move; and are mortified by the satirical\nremarks which your religious profession has provoked; but time will\nsoften down these asperities of feeling, and they will eventually\ntolerate what they may never be disposed to sanction.\"\n\n\"But what ought I to do? Am I to sacrifice my religious principles\nto parental solicitation? I have been advised to do so, as obedience\nto parents is a cardinal virtue of Christianity. It is a virtue\nwhich ought to live in the heart of every child; yet I feel I cannot\ngive it that form of expression which they wish. It is this that\naggravates my sorrow. I love them, I revere them, I would sacrifice\nmy health and my life to please them; but I cannot, I dare not\nsacrifice my conscience.\"\n\n\"Your situation is very delicate and painful; yet you must remember\nthat you are under the peculiar protection of the Redeemer. He\nhas all power in heaven and on earth, and works all things after\nthe counsel of his own will. He can cause light to spring out of\ndarkness, and often comes forth to deliver his people when they\ndespair of help. I would advise you to be firm, yet temperate; to\nblend the utmost degree of kindness with inflexible decision; to\navoid every appearance of eccentricity; not to introduce religious\nquestions in conversation at an improper time, and when you _do\nintroduce them_, cautiously abstain from minor and subordinate\ntopics; bear reproach without murmuring; never discover an eagerness\nto expose erroneous views of truth, unless you have reason to\nconclude that it can be done without giving offence; and, as a\ngeneral maxim, prove the truth and the excellence of your religious\nsentiments and opinions, more by your life than by your tongue.\"\n\n\"I sometimes think that I shall sink beneath my afflictions, but\nat other times I rise above them. I know that it is through much\ntribulation that the righteous are to enter the kingdom, and I\nknow, also, that amidst all their tribulations they enjoy peace.\nThe candidate for immortality ought not to object to the cross; but\nwhen the cross is prepared by those we love, it becomes peculiarly\noppressive. After much deliberation and many prayers, I resolved on\nwriting to my parents, and have placed in the hands of my father, as\nI left home, a letter, a copy of which I will read to you:--\n\n\"'MY BELOVED PARENTS,--It is with many varied and conflicting\nemotions that I now address you; you may think it strange that I\nhave chosen the more formal style of writing, rather than conversing\nwith you, but I trust you will agree with me that, considering\nthe importance of the subject which is now engaging so much of\nour mutual thoughts and feelings, and the different opinions\nwe entertain, it is of great consequence that we should fully\nunderstand each others' sentiments. Upon your kind sympathy I throw\nmyself; judge me not harshly; though compelled to differ from you on\nmany points, still let me have your usual kindness and consideration.\n\n\"'I am fully aware of the deep and poignant sorrow which my late\ncourse of conduct has brought upon you; you have ever been to me\nkind and indulgent, have brought me up in the enjoyment of every\ncomfort and elegance which your station in life has enabled you to\ncommand; no expense has been spared to fit me for the position in\nsociety you wish me to occupy; and now, by my own act and decision,\nI deprive you of the pleasure and reward which you so naturally\nexpect. You wish to see me moving in elegant society, joining with\nyouthful vigour in those scenes of amusement and worldly gaiety in\nwhich you think I ought to find delight, and attribute my objections\nto such amusements to a morbid antipathy to the elegancies of life,\nand an assumption of ascetic rigour ill suited to the character of\none who has enjoyed my advantages. Both from love and duty, you\nrequire me again to frequent these scenes of amusement in which I\nnow feel no interest, again to conform to the usages of fashionable\nlife, and again to be, what I once was, \"a giddy worldling.\" My dear\nparents, were it an earthly attachment you asked me to surrender,\nhowever great the sacrifice, however my heart, its woman's hopes and\nhappiness might be wrecked, so great is the affection I bear you, so\nhigh a regard have I for parental authority, that I would yield. But\nwhat is it that you ask of me? Not such a sacrifice as this--that\ntime, your love, and other ties might heal--but the sacrifice of\nall I hold most dear, most valuable--the sacrifice of _myself_, my\nprecious and immortal soul. Start not, my father, but ponder well\nand deeply what I say. Judge me not by this world's judgment, but\nby the Scripture authority, which I know you revere, and will never\ngainsay. I believe in no strange doctrine; no new or fanciful form\nof religious truth has taken possession of my heart and feelings.\nTaking the testimony of Scripture for my guidance, seeking to be\nled alone by its revealed truth, and to learn and to obey its\ncommands, how can I conform to the world, and yet remain a disciple\nof Christ Jesus? The two are impossible! \"Be ye not conformed to\nthe world\" is a solemn command, to which I must yield obedience.\nIt has pleased God in his providence so to influence my heart and\nconscience, that I now see things with a different eye than before;\nI must therefore regulate my conduct by these convictions. Love of\nthe world, and worldly pleasures, cannot find a place in the heart\nof one who has given herself to Christ. You may plead that God\nrequires not sacrifices such as these from his people, especially\nin opposition to parental authority; and that I have no right to\nblast your happiness, and bring disgrace upon your family by my\neccentric notions. I cannot admit that by my decision I am justly\nincurring your displeasure, or disgracing myself and you. I cannot,\nconscientiously with my sense of duty to Christ, any longer mix with\nthe gay and thoughtless, make myself a partner in their follies, or\njoin in their amusements; but I am not required to shun literary\npursuits, the improvement of my mind, and those intellectual\nenjoyments in which I have ever delighted; but believing, as I do,\nthe utter inconsistency of all worldly dissipation and gaiety with\nthe pursuits of a Christian life, I must for ever renounce them.\nI am prepared for all that misrepresentation and contempt from\nothers may do to wound and annoy, but cannot give up my religious\nprinciples, and what I consider my Christian duty. I trust, with\nthe blessing of God, and help from him, sustained by the love and\nsympathy of my dear Redeemer, I could willingly become _a martyr_,\nbut never either an inconsistent professor or an apostate.\n\n\"'My beloved parents, ponder well ere you deprive me of your\nconfidence and affection; listen not to the satire and bitterness\nof others, who cannot judge me as I ought to be judged. Believe\nme--supreme love to the Saviour will not make me love you less;\nmy religious feelings will not make me indifferent to the claims\nof parental regard, authority, and affection. I shall not be less\nyour child because I call God my father. I implore you, let not\ndomestic strife and sorrow enter our once happy home! For the sake\nof _peace_, must I conform to the world, return to the habits and\ncustoms of fashionable life, be again--what I once was--one of\nthe gay and thoughtless, or no longer the child of your fondest\naffections, or perhaps even an inmate of your home? Bear with me\nwhile I tell you; my choice is made; I am prepared to sacrifice\neverything but my religious freedom, my love for my Saviour, and\nobedience to his authority. 'He that loveth father and mother more\nthan me, is not worthy of me.'\n\n\"'It will not be long, at the longest space of time, before this\nworld, with all its gaieties and follies, will pass away from us;\nwe know not how much of sorrow or joy lies before us; what will\nsustain us should sorrow as a flood flow over us, desolation, and\nbitter woe? Will the jocund laugh, the merry dance, the enlivening\nstrain of earth's sweetest music, soothe the heart overburdened\nwith deepest sorrow? If we have no other foundation to rest upon\nthan these--no other friendship than that of the world, which is as\nevanescent as its happiness--where shall we go if sorrow withers\nour joys and enters our home? But we may escape these, and, like\na peaceful stream, our years may glide from us, our sky still be\nbright and serene, and a cloudless sunset cheer our departing day;\nbut night follows day--and there is a night, dark and stormy if\nunenlightened from above, coming upon us all, for which we each\none must prepare--the night of death! What will it avail us then\nwhether riches or poverty, rank or _meanness_, has been our portion\nhere? These will not save us; all that human love and friendship\ncan effect will be unavailing then, if our hope is not on high--if\nan Almighty friend is not with us to divide for us the waters of\ndissolution--to become our intercessor and Saviour. Oh! my beloved\nparents, dearer to me than life itself, think of these things; think\nof the last earthly scene; let me prepare for it, and forget not\nthat the same preparation is needful for you.\n\n\"'I can no longer trifle with the things of time; an eternity of\nbliss or woe is before me. I am prepared for the sacrifice of all\nearthly honour and happiness, that I may be safe in Christ, and\nprepared to meet him at his coming. That you, my dear parents, may\nfinally meet me in the heavenly world, where no sorrow can enter,\nand where the voice of discord is never heard, is the sincere prayer\nof your affectionate and dutiful child,\n\n  \"'SOPHIA.'\"\n\n\"I have no doubt,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"but this letter will\noperate greatly in your favour. Your parents are labouring under a\nmisapprehension, which your open and frank statement will remove;\nand while they must admire the independence which claims its\nrights, they will respect those religious principles which no human\nauthority can, or ought even to attempt to subdue.\"\n\n\"Oh! they are the best of parents, and if they had not been\ninfluenced by the evil spirit of others, they never would have\ndisturbed my peace. I blame not them, but the officious few who,\nlike the ancient Pharisees, will not go into the kingdom of heaven\nthemselves, nor suffer them that are entering to go in. But I\nforgive them. They demand my pity--they have it--and my prayers\nalso, for they know not what they do. I will now, as a diversion\nfrom this painful subject, read to you an interesting letter which\nI have just received from a young friend with whom I formed an\nacquaintance when at Dawlish, and I have no doubt it will give you\ngreat pleasure, as it has given me. She was, when I first knew her,\ndevoted to the pleasures of this world; but now, I trust, she is\nseeking those of a better:--\n\n\"'MY DEAR SOPHIA,--I received your last letter; on looking at\nthe date of it, I must apologize to you for leaving it so long\nunanswered. It came to me while my mind was in an agitated state,\nand I had almost abandoned the hope of future happiness. Not that\nI have been called to pass through any scene of earthly trial and\ndisappointment, but my volatile and thoughtless heart has been\ndeeply impressed by the conviction of my sinfulness in the sight\nof God, and my consequent danger. Although I have received a\nreligious education, and ever felt a reverence for what is sacred\nand sublime, yet love for real religion had never found a place\nin my heart. Far from my thoughts and feelings was all regard\nfor what is most essential to our eternal interests. Fond of the\nsociety of the worldly and gay, my chief pleasure and pursuits have\nbeen in the world--gayest among the gay, the festive dance, the\nevening assembly--all the pleasures which may be derived from the\nassociations and charms which this vain and transitory scene can\ngive, had acquired a complete ascendency over my heart. The thought\nof death and futurity I banished from me, living on in a state of\ncareless, thoughtless indifference.\n\n\"'At this time a friend presented to me a little treatise, and I\ncould not from politeness refuse to read it. From its perusal I\nhave received those deep and powerful impressions, which, I trust,\nmay never be effaced from my heart. I now see wherein I have acted\nso foolishly. God, in his great mercy, has poured into my soul the\nlight of Divine truth. Oh! how greatly are all things changed to me!\nI can no longer find pleasure in worldly dissipation and gaiety; I\nhave entirely forsaken those scenes of folly and sin; and am I not\nhappy? The peace and true joy which only a Christian can know, has\ntaken possession of my heart; love to my Saviour, who lived and died\nfor me, and a sense of his forgiving mercy, is my chief delight.\nIn the study of the Holy Scriptures I find intense enjoyment; the\ntime I formerly spent in thoughtless gaiety I now devote to the\nimprovement of my mind, and the sacred delights of private devotion.\nIf you, my dear Sophia, have felt the renewing influence of Divine\ntruth, you will be able to rejoice with me, and fully comprehend the\ngratitude I feel to Him who has arrested my steps, and is now, I\ntrust, leading me in the paths of purer happiness and peace.\n\n\"'Hoping soon to receive another letter from you, and with kind\nremembrances from my dear parents, believe me, ever your sincere\nfriend,\n\n  \"'LOUISA.'\"\n\n\"It is pleasing,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"to see the progress which the\ntruth is making. It is true we cannot boast of numbers, when we\ncompare the righteous with the irreligious, yet our number is on the\nincrease. The poor in general hear and receive the gospel; and the\nGod of all grace is calling some in the higher ranks of society to\nbe the living witnesses to its truth and excellence.\"\n\n\"But how few the number! We may quote the language of the apostle\nas descriptive of the present state of the higher orders: 'Not many\nwise, not many mighty, not many noble are called.' Alas! no. The\nwise disdain to receive instruction from the fishermen of Galilee;\nthe mighty are too proud to yield subjection to the authority of\nthe son of the carpenter; and the noble contemn the ignominy and\nreproach of the cross. They support the dignity of the church, while\nthey debase the character of its Founder; venerate its ministers,\nwhile they despise and reject the authority of their Master; observe\nits sacraments and its ceremonies, while they repudiate the design\nfor which they were instituted; and move onward towards the unknown\nworld of spirits, without ever agitating the great question, _What\nmust I do to be saved?_ Alas! they are self-doomed to endless woe.\n\"We should pity and pray for them.\"\n\n\"Their talents, their rank, and their wealth, often excite our envy;\nbut if we knew all the moral disadvantages which are attendant on\ntheir great possessions, such a passion would never glow in our\nbreast. They are exempted from many of the evils which press on\nthe lower and middle classes of society, but they are not exempted\nfrom the pangs of sorrow, nor the visitations of death. A late\nsenator,[9] whose knowledge of human life and manners was as\ncomprehensive as his eloquence was brilliant and fascinating, has\nsomewhere said, 'that to the great the consolations of religion are\nas necessary as its instructions. They, too, are among the unhappy.\nThey feel personal pain and domestic sorrow. In these they have\nno privilege, but are subject to pay their full contingent to the\ncontributions levied on mortality.'\"\n\n  [9] Burke.\n\n\"From the intercourse which I have held with the higher circles,\nI am of opinion that there is a much smaller proportion of real\nhappiness among them than is generally imagined; and when I reflect\non the temptations and dangers to which they are necessarily\nexposed, I feel no disposition to envy them. But what rank of life\nis free from danger? Who, of all the human family, would ever\nseek redemption through the blood of Christ, unless impelled by\nan invisible force? What heart would ever glow with love to God,\nunless that passion be enkindled as with a live coal from off his\nown hallowed altar? And where this passion does glow, what force can\nextinguish it? And if we have been made to differ from others, ought\nwe not to distinguish ourselves both by the purity of our life, and\nthe ardour of our zeal for the honour of the Lord Jesus?\"\n\n\"Where much is given, much is required. Our responsibility rises\nin proportion to the elevation of our rank and the extent of our\ninfluence. When I see a professing Christian, possessed of wealth\nand of leisure, freed from the incumbrances of the world, yet living\na supine and comparatively inactive life--while he makes no effort\nto form plans for the moral welfare of society, or to lend his aid\nto those already established--I feel the force of the apostolic\nquestion, How dwelleth the love of God in him?\"\n\n\"There is, in my opinion, a grand peculiarity in the religion of\nJesus Christ, which cannot be expressed in more emphatic language\nthan that of Paul:--'For the love of Christ constraineth us; because\nwe thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead: and\nthat he died for all, that they which live should not henceforth\nlive unto themselves, but unto him which died for them and rose\nagain.'\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAMILY OF THE LAWSONS.\n\n\nOne evening I received an invitation to dinner from Mr. Lawson, a\nretired tradesman in easy circumstances, who within the last three\nyears had settled in his native village. Mr. Lawson was a man of\nno education, but possessed of an active mind; his manners were\nunpolished yet agreeable; and though he had been busily engaged in\nthe trading world for more than twenty years, he had quite acquired\nthe habits of a country gentleman. His garden was his favourite\namusement; there he toiled early and late, displaying great taste in\nits cultivation, and often availing himself of the gratification of\nsending a portion of its fruits to some of his old city friends.\n\nHe married early in life, and made what was thought a prudent\nchoice; he had no fortune with his wife, but soon found he had a\nfortune _in_ her; for what he gained by industry, she preserved by\nrigid economy. He used often to repeat with satisfaction one of\nher choice maxims--_those tradesmen who begin life as gentlefolks,\noften end life as paupers_. Mrs. Lawson's early habits of economy\nin process of time degenerated into extreme parsimony; and though\nshe would often talk of charity, yet she usually excused herself\nfrom the practice of this virtue by quoting the common adage--_we\nmust be just before we are generous_. Though a rigid economy was the\norder of the house, Mrs. Lawson was more anxious for the education\nof her children than her husband. He often used to say, \"Where is\nthe necessity of spending so much money in education, when we got on\nwell enough without it?\" To which she would aptly reply, \"The times\nare changed, and if we wish our children to move with respectability\nin that rank of life to which their fortunes will elevate them, we\nmust train them up for it.\"\n\nMrs. Lawson was considered very religious by some of her most\nintimate friends, but she was more attached to the doctrines of the\ngospel than to its precepts, and usually expressed a more ardent\ndesire to enjoy the consolations of faith, than to grow in knowledge\nand in grace. She was more solicitous to guard the little territory\nof opinion which her judgment occupied, than to extend the empire\nof righteousness and peace; and though she would sometimes speak of\nthe love of God to sinners, yet such qualified terms were invariably\nemployed, that it bore, at least in her estimation, an exclusive\nreference to a few of her own order. On their settlement at\nBroadhurst they attended the ministry of the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, but\nhis style of preaching did not exactly suit Mrs. Lawson; sometimes\nhe preached well, but at other times he was too legal--he dwelt too\nmuch on the preceptive part of the Scriptures, and too little on\nthe doctrinal. He enjoined obedience to the law of God, instead of\nleaving the principle of grace to produce it, without any reference\nto obligation. He did not go sufficiently deep into Christian\nexperience, nor employ that singular phraseology of speech which\nshe had been accustomed to admire. Mr. Lawson and his daughters\nwere more delighted with this new style of preaching (as it was\ntermed) than with the old; but rather than disturb the harmony of\nthe family, they consented to go with Mrs. Lawson on the Sabbaths a\ndistance of six miles, to hear one of her more favourite ministers.\nThis circumstance at first wounded the feelings of the rector, and\nexcited no small degree of astonishment among the pious, who had\nanticipated that this family would have been an acquisition to their\nlittle circle; but when the spirit of Mrs. Lawson was more fully\ndisplayed, and her sentiments more generally known, it gave entire\nsatisfaction, as they were unwilling to have their numbers augmented\nat the expense of their mutual felicity.\n\nThe day on which I was to dine with Mr. Lawson at length arrived.\nAfter dinner our conversation turned on religious subjects, and Mrs.\nLawson distinguished herself, not less by her loquacity than by the\noccasional bitterness of her spirit.\n\n\"I think, Sir,\" she said, \"that we live in very awful times; but few\nknow the truth, and very few preach it. I do not know six ministers\nin the kingdom whom I could hear with any pleasure.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Madam, and what is the cause?\"\n\n\"I hope, Sir, _you_ know.\"\n\n\"But, my dear,\" said Mr. Lawson, \"how should this gentleman, who is\na stranger among us, know the cause unless you tell him?\"\n\n\"If, then,\" said Mrs. Lawson, \"I must speak, though it is with great\nreluctance that I bring forward such a heavy charge, _they do not\npreach the gospel_. They are in general mere moral lecturers, and\ntheir sermons are mere essays on some one branch of relative duty;\nbut those who are called 'evangelical,' I consider most censurable;\nbecause, though they profess to know the truth, yet they are afraid\nto preach it.\"\n\n\"I presume you except Mr. Inglebly from this sweeping charge?\"\n\n\"He may be a good man, but his knowledge of the gospel is very\nsuperficial. I have occasionally heard him preach a sermon which\nhas given me a little pleasure, but his light merely serves to make\nhis darkness the more visible. He preaches what I call a legalized\ngospel; instead of preaching a free salvation, he is always\nexhorting his hearers to be doing something; and tells them that\nthey must look into their own heart, or to their own life, for the\nevidences of a work of grace.\"\n\n\"And pray, Madam, where is a person to look for a genuine proof of\nhis personal religion, unless he does look into his own mind? Are\nwe not told that a tree is to be known by its fruit? And is not\nthis figure employed by Jesus Christ to teach us that if our moral\nprinciples are good, we shall exhibit the visible signs of their\ngoodness in our life and conversation?\"\n\n\"I hear a great deal about moral goodness in the present day, but I\nvery seldom see any; human nature is awfully depraved; some preach\nabout its being made better by the grace of God, but I believe it\nnever can be improved. The heart after conversion is as deceitful\nand as desperately wicked as before, and if we are saved it must be\nby free and sovereign grace.\"\n\n\"I admit, with you, Madam, that those who are saved 'are saved by\ngrace through faith;' but does not that faith purify the heart\nand overcome the temptations of the world? Where the principle\nof grace is implanted, is it not represented as reigning through\nrighteousness unto eternal life?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, and our evangelical moralists tell us that the principle\nof grace will gradually extend its influence over the whole mind,\ntill every disposition is subdued, and we are fitted for the kingdom\nof heaven.\"\n\n\"And do we not read that he that hath the hope of future blessedness\n'purifieth himself, even as God is pure?'\"\n\n\"But how can we purify ourselves? Does not such an idea supersede\nthe work of the Spirit?\"\n\n\"By no means, Madam. If we are made alive from the dead by\nthe infusion of the principle of spiritual life, we possess a\ncertain degree of moral power; but this power does not render us\nself-sufficient; we become new but not independent creatures. We\nhave duties to discharge, but we are not left to discharge them in\nour own strength. Mark the reasoning of the apostle: 'For if ye\nlive after the flesh ye shall die; but if ye, _through the Spirit_,\ndo mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.' Here we see human\nagency, in concurrence with the assistance of the Spirit, employed\nin mortifying the deeds of the body.\"\n\n\"It is but seldom,\" observed Mr. Lawson, \"that I interfere with\nany religious discussion, but I must confess that I like those\nprinciples which have the best influence over our temper and our\nactions. My wife contends for faith, and some high points in\ndivinity which I cannot reach; and though I readily agree with\nher, that faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ is essential to\nsalvation, yet I like to see some good works following it.\"\n\n\"What do we more than others?\" I replied, \"is a question which is\nproposed to us by high authority. Many who reject Christianity\ncarry the principles of morality to very high perfection, and are\ndistinguished for their integrity and benevolence, but we are\nrequired to surpass them. The same mind which dwelt in Christ\nJesus is to dwell in us. We are not only to admire his humility\nand condescension, his meekness and his devotional fervour, but\nto imitate it. We are not only to love him as a Saviour, and obey\nhim as a sovereign, but to follow him as an example. If we contend\nfor the faith, we are to 'contend earnestly,' but always with\nthe 'meekness of wisdom.' We should never indulge ourselves in\nindiscriminate censure, nor vainly presume on our own infallibility,\nbut endeavour to hold the unity of the faith without bursting the\nbond of peace.\"\n\nThe young ladies, who appeared altogether indifferent to the\nconversation, now withdrew. They were genteel in their manners, and\nseemingly amiable in their dispositions; but their style of dress\ngave me no high opinion of their moral taste. They were much too gay\nin their appearance for the daughters of religious parents, and I\ncould not avoid receiving the impression that they spent a larger\nportion of their time in adjusting the plaiting of their hair, and\nthe disposal of their ornaments, than in the cultivation of their\nminds. I love to see an elegant neatness in female attire, but when\nthe passion for dress reigns in the heart, it destroys dignity of\ncharacter, engenders vanity, consumes time, is always instituting\ncomparisons which either mortify pride or inflame it; and it becomes\nsuch a perpetual drain on the resources of the pocket, that the\nclaims of charity are rejected, because they cannot be relieved.\n\n\"My daughters,\" said Mrs. Lawson, \"have received a very superior\neducation, but have never seen much of fashionable life; they were\nnever at a ball or a play; and though I _once_ permitted them to\nattend a concert, yet only once. I think their taste would lead them\nto such scenes of amusement; but, as they know my objections, they\ndo not press for my consent.\"\n\n\"As religious parents,\" I observed, \"_ought_ to support the\nsacredness of their character by the moral consistency of their\nconduct, _so ought their children_. They have the same evil\ndispositions and propensities as the children of the irreligious,\nbut they are placed under more powerful obligations to repress and\nsubdue them. It is true that parents cannot force their children\nto be religious, but they have a right to expect them to pay some\nattention to the injunctions of religion, if not for their own\nsake, yet from respect to the feelings and reputation of their\nparents. This respect for parental feeling and reputation is often\nthe safeguard of juvenile worth; but when it is once destroyed,\nthe barrier of restraint is broken down, and ruin becomes almost\ninevitable. I once said to a youth, who was pleading in favour of\na fashionable amusement, 'Remember, your parents are pious; and if\nyou persist, you will not only wound their feelings, but dishonour\ntheir reputation; and will you deliberately commit two such evils\nfor a momentary gratification?' After a short pause, he replied,\n'No, Sir; I will not purchase personal indulgence at such a price. I\nwill never deliberately wound feelings which I ought to hold sacred,\nnor injure a reputation which I would allow no person to attack with\nimpunity.'\"\n\n\"That was a noble decision,\" said Mr. Lawson, \"and the youth who\nformed it, I have no doubt, is an ornament to his father's house.\"\n\nI now ventured to remark, that the present era afforded the\nChristian parent great facilities in the discharge of his religious\nduties towards his children, as the variety of engaging works\nwhich issue from the press are calculated not only to interest but\nto instruct, and the numerous societies which are formed for the\neducation of the poor, and for evangelizing the heathen, have a\ntendency to keep up a high sense of the importance of religion in\nthe youthful mind, while they call his powers into active operation.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" said Mrs. Lawson, \"the press sends forth its monthly\npublications, but I permit very few to enter this house. I do not\napprove of teaching young people religion; for who can teach but the\nHoly Spirit? And He does not require any human performance to aid\nhim in his work. Sunday-schools may do a little good, by keeping\nthe children out of mischief; but I am no friend of missions to the\nheathen: when their time comes they will be called; and, till that\n'set time' comes, it is no use for us to send them the gospel.\"\n\n\"Then, Madam,\" I asked, with some degree of surprise, \"are your\ndaughters connected with no religious institution?\"\n\n\"No, Sir; and if they were to wish it, I would not give my consent.\nA person ought to possess religion before he engages in any\nreligious exercises.\"\n\n\"I know a young lady,\" I observed, \"who entered a Sunday-school, and\nshe soon became an excellent teacher; but, when reflecting on the\nnature and design of her employment, her heart smote her, as she\nfelt convinced that she had never experienced the power of religion\non her own soul. It pleased God to bless these reflections to her\nconversion, and she is now an eminently devoted disciple of the Lord\nJesus.\"\n\n\"Such a case _is possible_,\" said Mrs. Lawson, \"because, 'with God\nall things are possible;' but I should think it an insult to Him to\nsend my daughters to teach in a Sunday-school, or to collect for a\nmissionary society, as an inducement for him to convert them.\"\n\n\"I wish,\" said Mr. Lawson, with great earnestness, \"our daughters\nwere converted; I should have a larger portion of happiness than\nI now have, and should look forward to the grave with much more\ncomposure. But, alas! all their attention is devoted to the follies\nof the world--dress, music, painting, and visiting, consume the\ngreater part of their time. I see the children of other religious\nfamilies decidedly pious, but I see no signs of piety in mine; I\nbegin to think that we have neglected the means, and therefore God\nwithholds his grace.\"\n\nThis remark excited a smile on the countenance of Mrs. Lawson\nwho satirically observed, that her husband was fond of the legal\ndispensation. \"What,\" she added, with great warmth of expression,\n\"shall the Divine decree be subject to the control of our freewill?\nHave not the Lord's people, in every age, had wicked children? Yes;\nAbraham had an Ishmael, and David an Absalom, 'but the foundation of\nGod standeth sure; the Lord knoweth them that are his.'\"\n\n\"True, Madam; but are we not commanded to 'train up our children\nin the nurture and admonition of the Lord!' I know that we cannot\ngive them the grace of life, but we can give them instruction;\nwe cannot force their obedience, but we may convince them of its\nreasonableness; we cannot keep them from evil, but we may succeed in\nplacing many formidable obstructions in their path to ruin.\"\n\n\"Very true, Sir; but human expedients will never renew their souls.\nThis is a work which Divine grace alone can do; and I think that we\nought not to labour to accomplish what we know we cannot effect.\"\n\n\"But do we not know that the Spirit often breathes on the dry bones\nwhile the prophet is calling on them to live? We know that we cannot\ncommand a future harvest, but does that conviction prevent our\nsowing the seed?\"\n\n'But, Sir, it is no use to sow the seed unless God gives the\nincrease.\"\n\n\"Very true, Madam, and have we any reason to expect the increase\nunless we do sow the seed? Are we not commanded, 'In the morning\nsow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou\nknowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether\nthey both shall be alike good?'\"\n\n\"I know, Sir, that your opinions and mine are very different on\nmost religious subjects; and I think, if we continue the debate, we\nshall not come to an agreement. I daily pray for the conversion of\nmy children, and take them with me to hear the pure gospel of Jesus\nChrist; and I leave them in the hands of God, to do with them as\nseemeth good in his sight. I cannot merit grace for them, neither\ncan they merit it for themselves. If it be given, it will be given\nfreely; and if it be withheld, it will be withheld righteously.\"\n\nThe cool indifference with which she uttered these sentiments\nparalyzed my whole frame, and I felt that I ought to make no reply.\nIndeed, what reply could I make that would have made any good\nimpressions on a mind so devoid of the common feelings of humanity,\nas to give utterance to expressions of such a fearful import? I\ninvoluntarily sighed over victims which a perverted faith was\npreparing against the day of slaughter, unless a miracle of grace\nshould be wrought to prevent it, and speedily retired from the room,\nin which I had suffered more mental anguish than I had felt during\nmy whole visit to Fairmount.\n\nThere is a strange diversity of character in the professing world,\nbut amidst all the varieties which it contains, no one presents\nso many repelling qualities as the high antinomian professor. He\nembraces a few leading truths of the Bible, while he rejects others\nnot less essential and important. His spirit is bitter, and his\ncensures indiscriminate; and while he pleads for the divinity of a\nsystem which inculcates humility and meekness as cardinal virtues,\nhe usually displays much pride, and great want of charity. He\narrogates to himself the collected wisdom of the age, stamps his\nown opinions with the seal of infallibility, and has the vanity\nto suppose, and the hardihood to assert, that he, and he only,\nunderstands the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. The compassion\nwhich sighs over the moral miseries of the world, never glows in his\nbreast; the pity that weeps in prospect of the desolation which is\ncoming on the ungodly, never moistens his eye; the eloquence which\nwould warn them of their danger, and point them to the refuge of\nsafe retreat, never quivers on his lips; and if we could penetrate\nthe deep recesses of his soul, and render ourselves familiar with\nevery passion which claims a local habitation there, we should find\nourselves associated with the master vices of the moral world;\nwhose breath pollutes, and whose touch defiles; whose existence, in\nconnection with the religion of the Saviour, is a mystery which a\nfuture day will unravel, but which the present has reason bitterly\nto deplore.\n\nThe antinomian heresy, which, happily, is not now so prevalent in\nthis country as it was in the early part of the present century, is\nqualified for mischief by the very properties which might seem to\nrender it merely an object of contempt--its vulgarity of conception,\nits paucity of ideas, and its determined hostility to taste,\nscience, and letters. It includes, within a compass which every head\ncan contain, and every tongue can utter, a system which cancels\nevery moral tie, consigns the whole human race to the extremes of\npresumption or despair, erects religion on the ruins of morality,\nand imparts to the dregs of stupidity all the powers of the most\nactive poison.\n\nTo find the children of such professors of religion devoted to\nthe follies and vices of the world, ought to excite less surprise\nthan regret; because it is wisely and judicially ordained, that\nthe adoption of error and the neglect of duty shall meet with a\njust rebuke, and a severe chastisement, in the consequences which\ninseparably attend them. But ought not the irreligion of such\nchildren to become a beacon to warn parents of the danger of such\nperverted notions and such criminal remissness? Shall we presume to\ninsult the Holy One by offering up our prayers for their conversion,\nif we withhold from them instruction, and cease to exercise a\nconstant and active vigilance over the formation of their character\nand their habits?\n\nCan such professors be said to _adorn_ the doctrine of God our\nSaviour in all things? Do they \"add to their faith, virtue; and to\nvirtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance,\npatience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly\nkindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity?\" Are they conformed\nto the image of the Son of God? If we compare their vanity with his\nhumility--their bitterness of spirit with his gentleness--their\nbigotry with his liberality--their love of discord and contention\nwith his love of peace--their insensibility to the moral disorders\nof the world with the tears he shed when anticipating the\ndesolations which were coming on the inhabitants of Jerusalem--and\nthe rancorous eagerness which they discover to restrict the\nblessings of redemption to a select few, with the unbounded\ncomprehension of his invitations addressed to all, of every age\nand every clime--we must feel at a loss to conceive how they can\npresent any fair claim to fellowship with him. If the Saviour were\nto reappear on earth, he would calumniate no minister who preaches\nsalvation by grace--he would break up the peace of no church which\nholds the unity of the faith--he would show his regard for the law\nof God by obeying its precepts, and unveil the glory of the gospel\nby proclaiming it among all people. But the modern antinomian\npreaches only to the _elect_--sets aside the authority of the law\nby pleading the indemnities of grace--disturbs the harmony of the\nbrethren by the contentions of discord--and pours insufferable\ncontempt on those holy men who endeavour to win souls to Christ,\nbecause they execute every part of their commission. We may speak\nof them in the language which Jacob employed in reference to two of\nhis sons, \"O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their\nassembly, mine honour, be not thou united.\"\n\nSometimes these high antinomian sentiments are embraced by\npersons whose genuine piety operates as a check to their natural\ntendency; but they ought always to be avoided as a moral\ncontagion, which, though kept under restraint for a season,\nwill eventually break out, and produce essential injury in any\nChristian community. Who can look abroad without seeing occasion\nto deplore their pernicious effects? The religious instruction\nof children is discountenanced--the claims of the heathen are\nrejected--the love of the brethren no longer remains the test of\ndiscipleship--the great majority of the world are placed under\nthe ban of reprobation--the attractive graces of the Spirit are\nrepudiated as obnoxious to the faith--and the lovely, the merciful,\nthe compassionate Redeemer is appealed to, to sanction these\nmonstrosities of modern professors.\n\n\n\n\nCALM DISCUSSION.\n\n\nThe letter which Miss Roscoe addressed to her parents proved a\nmeans of softening down their prejudices, and convincing them of\nthe impropriety of attempting to force her to comply with customs\nwhich were offensive to her feelings. Though they could not feel the\nattractions in religion of which she spake, they resolved never more\nto annoy or reproach her. Thus the cloud which had been gathering\nfor months, threatening the destruction of all her domestic peace,\npassed away, and she was now left to pursue her onward course\nundismayed by difficulties, because she had no longer to contend\nwith the spirit of persecution.\n\nI have sometimes known the ardour of devotional feeling cool as soon\nas the fire of persecution has been extinguished; and the heroic\nfortitude, which the storm has been unable to subdue, has gradually\nrelaxed under the soft influence of prosperous ease. The mind,\nalmost instinctively, accommodates itself to its circumstances;\nand though it rises in stern defiance against the lawless threats\nof injustice and oppression, it too often sinks into a state of\ncomparative apathy when opposition ceases. It is at such a period\nthat religious principles are in danger. Courtesy will often prompt\nto a sacrifice which compulsion could never obtain; a smile will\nsometimes conquer where a frown would fortify to resistance; and\nthe faith which has stood immovable amidst the virulence of reproach\nand sarcasm, has sometimes wavered under the entreaties of parental\nkindness, and the tender solicitations of endeared friends.\n\nBut such was the ascendency which Divine truth had acquired over\nthe mind of Miss Roscoe, and such the decision of her character,\nthat no external change impaired the strength, or shook the firmness\nof her religious principles. She was not less spiritually minded\nunder the sunbeams of prosperity than when adversity lowered; her\naffection for her parents did not diminish her superior regard to\nher Redeemer; and though she now felt still stronger obligations\nto please them, yet she regulated the whole of her conduct by the\nsacred maxim--\"Them that honour me, I will honour, saith the Lord.\"\n\nIt was after her return from the cottage of a poor neighbour,\nwhere she had been administering the consolations of religion to\na young woman about her own age, who was then in the last stage\nof consumption, that she sat herself down on a sofa, in perfect\nabstraction, unconscious of the presence of her father, who had just\nentered the parlour. For some time he felt unwilling to disturb her,\nbut at length he broke in upon her musings, by asking if she felt\nindisposed?\n\n\"Oh, no, papa, I am not indisposed; I never enjoyed a finer state of\nhealth, or greater elevation of feeling than I do at this moment. I\nhave been spending an hour with Jane Thomason, whose happy spirit is\non the eve of departing from this vale of tears. It is beside the\nbed of the dying that I feel the degradation and the grandeur of my\nnature. There I see what sin has done to disfigure and destroy the\nbody; and there I see what the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ does\nto adorn and dignify the soul.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, death is a debt which we must all pay; and I hope we\nshall be able to pay it with submission when nature demands it. But\nI wish you not to suffer yourself to be too much absorbed by this\nsubject, as it will depress your spirits. I have long known Jane;\nshe was always a virtuous girl, and I doubt not but she has made her\npeace with her Maker.\"\n\n\"Depress me, father!--No; such a theme of meditation possesses no\ndepressing tendency. It is true, a momentary tremor will come over\nmy spirit when I think of the parting scene and the unknown pang of\ndying, but it is only a momentary tremor--a passing tribute to the\nvalue of that life which I would spontaneously resign for a more\nperfect state of existence, if my heavenly Father required me to do\nit.\"\n\n\"But if you incessantly dwell on a future state of existence, I fear\nyou will neither improve nor enjoy the present. The present has its\nduties, which we ought to discharge, and its pleasures, which we\nought to enjoy; and, while we may derive some consolation from the\nprospect of a future life, I think we ought not to undervalue the\npresent.\"\n\n\"To undervalue the present life, my father, would be an insult to\nHim who gave it; and to neglect its duties, would be to incur his\nrighteous displeasure; but when we feel the renovating influence of\nDivine grace infusing the principle of spiritual life into the soul,\nit will be impossible for us to wish for its endless duration. I\nhave just been reading a discourse, which says, 'The soul no sooner\nreceives this new life, than it begins to be filled with hopes and\nfears, desires and dispositions, to which, in its fallen state, it\nis an entire stranger. It becomes concerned about its own safety,\nand conscious of its own dignity. The things of eternity arrest\nits attention, and call all its powers into exercise. It thinks,\nand feels, and acts, as though it regarded itself born for an\nimmortal existence--as though it looked on heaven as its home, and\nnever could be satisfied or happy till it should be engaged in its\nservices and sharing in its joys.'\"\n\n\"Well, my dear, I hope, when our earthly pilgrimage is ended, that\nwe shall meet in heaven; but I must confess that I do not feel\nthat glow of animation in the prospect of it which you feel. In\nlooking over the letter I received from you the other day, I was\nsurprised to find that we differ so little in our religious belief;\nand yet, when we converse together, a stranger would imagine that\nwe are at the distance of the antipodes from each other. We admit\nthe same truths in theory, but you appear to discover an importance\nand an excellence in them which I cannot feel or perceive. They\nare invested with a charm in your mind to which I am altogether\ninsensible. Indeed, there is a mysteriousness connected with their\noperation on you which I cannot comprehend. Can you explain it?\"\n\n\"Our Lord,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"when conversing with his disciples,\nwho had proposed to him this question, 'Why speakest thou unto\nthem in parables?' answered, 'It is given unto you to know the\nmysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.'\nIt is evident, from this passage, that the truth which is revealed,\nrequires some supernatural illumination to enable us to understand\nit; and if you search the Scriptures attentively, you will perceive\nthat this fact is asserted in the most positive and direct terms.\n'The natural man' saith the apostle, 'receiveth not the things of\nthe Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he\nknow them, _because they are spiritually discerned_.'\"\n\n\"But are we to expect that this supernatural illumination, of\nwhich you speak, will convey to us any truth which is not already\nrevealed? If so, the revelation is imperfect, and if not, it strikes\nme that a supernatural illumination is unnecessary.\"\n\n\"There will be no fresh truth communicated; but without this Divine\nillumination we shall not discern the importance and excellence of\nthat which is revealed. Hence we read of having the eyes of our\nunderstanding enlightened. The psalmist prays thus: 'Open thou mine\neyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law!' And the\nhistorian who records the conversion of Lydia, when assigning the\ncause of it, says, 'Whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended\nunto the things which were spoken of Paul.'\"\n\n\"But as we are endowed with an understanding which is capable of\ndiscriminating between truth and error, I cannot perceive the\nnecessity of any supernatural assistance. I believe that we are\nsinners, and I believe that Jesus Christ died for sinners. I do not\nwant any supernatural illumination to confirm my belief of these\nfacts.\"\n\n\"But you want supernatural assistance to invest your belief with\npower to impress them on your heart. You may believe that you are a\nsinner, and yet you may not see the malignancy of sin, nor yet feel\nthat deep, poignant sorrow which the Scriptures call repentance. You\nmay believe that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,\nand yet may not perceive how his death accomplishes this great\ndesign.\"\n\n\"But I fear, my dear Sophia, you are now soaring into the region of\nmysticism, and are in danger of paying more attention to the visions\nof your fancy than to the convictions of your understanding.\"\n\n\"No; a mystical theology is not only inexplicable, but it cannot\nbe defended by sober and rational argument. Am I offering an\ninsult to my reason when I beseech the Father of light to illumine\nmy understanding, and thus enable me to perceive, _not only the\nmeaning, but the beauty and excellence of the truth which he has\nrevealed_? And considering the volatility of the mind, how much it\nis under the control and dominion of the passions, how rarely it can\nabstract itself from sensible objects and pursuits, and what uniform\nindifference it manifests to the great questions of personal piety,\nshall I be considered as acting irrationally, if I pray that I may\nbe deeply and permanently affected by the truth which I believe?\nO, my father! I can attest from experience that this supernatural\nillumination of the mind is the great secret in personal religion.\nWithout it we are in darkness, while encompassed by the light of\nrevelation; may admit the inspiration of the Bible, while the veil\nof mystery hangs over its sacred pages; may condemn, as Puritanical\nor Methodistical, the very principles we theoretically acknowledge\nto be divine; and, amidst all our professions of reverence for the\ncharacter of God, and love to the person of the Redeemer, may be\ndestitute of that mental peace which arises from a _scriptural_\nbelief of the truth.\"\n\nThe conversation now turned on the right which every person\npossesses to form his own opinion on religious truth.\n\n\"I have been an enemy to free inquiry,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"but on\nmaturer reflection I must give up my opposition. Where this liberty\nis enjoyed there will be great diversity of opinion, but probably\nthat will prove less injurious to the practical influence of\nreligion than a perfect uniformity, which admits of no discussion.\nWhen you and I thought alike on religious questions, my mind was\nin a stagnant state; I very rarely thought much or deeply on the\nsubject; but since you have imbibed your present views my feelings\nhave been agitated; I have been obliged to re-examine the evidences\nof my belief also; and though I cannot agree with you on all points,\nyet I begin to see that my knowledge is defective.\"\n\n\"Persecution,\" Miss Roscoe remarked, \"on account of religious\nopinions is a cruel crime, and though the apologist has often\nattempted to palliate it, and sometimes to justify it, yet it is\nnothing less than an outrage on the inalienable rights of man. Who\ncan compel me to believe any system of opinions? The effort, if\nmade, would be fruitless, because physical force cannot subdue the\nunderstanding; and if I do believe any system of opinions, who can\ncompel me to disbelieve? Have I not the same right to exercise my\njudgment in the adoption of my belief as another person, and ought I\nto be disturbed, especially in this land of freedom, if I claim and\nexercise this right?\"\n\n\"I think not, though our prejudices are so very much in favour of\nold established doctrines and customs, that we almost necessarily\nfeel impelled to interfere and prevent a person, if possible,\nabandoning them. A parent, who is a member of the Establishment,\ndoes not like to see his child deserting it, and though a severe\ncritic may attribute this to the force of prejudice, yet I am not\nsurprised that it should assume a powerful influence over the\nfeelings. The religious belief in which we have been educated, whose\nrites, and forms, and ceremonies are associated with our earliest\nrecollections, at whose hallowed altars we have formed the most\nsacred of all human alliances, and in whose consecrated earth the\nremains of our ancestors are deposited, may be supposed to enkindle,\neven in the breast of age, the fire of a youthful attachment; and\nit must occasion deep regret to see it forsaken as the child of\nsuperstition or the parent of error.\"\n\n\"I assure you I have no inclination to leave the Establishment,\nthough, I presume, you will admit that I have a right to do it if I\nshould think proper.\"\n\n\"Your right is admitted, for I am convinced that we ought not to\nattempt to control the judgment of another; but I sincerely hope\nthat you will never think proper to exercise your right.\"\n\n\"It is not likely that I shall. I am under no temptation to do so.\nI admire the liturgy of our church, I approve of her articles;\nand though there are imperfections, which a scrutinizing eye may\ndiscover, in her constitution and in some of her ceremonies, yet I\nbelieve that she is as pure as any church of modern times.\"\n\n\"I am happy that your evangelical views of truth have not destroyed\nyour veneration and esteem for the Establishment, as it would be\na source of great mortification to us if you were to become a\nDissenter.\"\n\n\"I am not acquainted with any Dissenter, except Mr. Lewellin, whom I\nhave occasionally met at Mr. Stevens's, but our attention has been\nso fully engaged by the great and important truths of revelation,\nthat I have never heard the question of dissent discussed. As\nChristians of every denomination will meet together in heaven, and\nunite in one common anthem of praise, I think they ought to cherish\nthe kindest affection for each other; and, instead of suffering the\nminor questions of difference, which give a distinctive shade to\ntheir religious character, to keep them in a state of reciprocal\nalienation, they ought to 'dwell together as brethren.'\"\n\n\"But, my dear, I am no advocate for an indiscriminate association of\nreligious people. 'Evil communications corrupt good manners.' Your\nattachment for the church may be weakened if you hold intercourse\nwith those who dissent from it. There are, I have no doubt, some\nwise and good men among the Dissenters; but, as there is _a larger\nnumber of that description among us_, I think you will have no\noccasion to wander out of the pale of the church for society.\"\n\n\"It is not, I assure you, my intention to form a large circle of\nacquaintance; but I must confess that my mind is too deeply imbued\nwith the catholic spirit of the gospel, to keep up the separation\nwhich divides those who are united together by ties more sacred\nand durable than those of nature or common friendship. The ardour\nof my feelings may impel me to become zealous in the cause of\nvital godliness, but I feel such an aversion to bigotry, that I do\nnot think that I shall ever become a bigot. To me the questions\nof conformity and non-conformity, of church and dissent, are so\ninsignificant and worthless, when put into comparison with the vital\nChristianity of the Bible, that I dismiss them from my mind. No, my\ndear father, I value, more than I value life, the truth which bears\nthe stamp of Divine authority, and care but little for the opinions\nwhich are alternately admitted and rejected by human authority.\"\n\nMrs. Roscoe now entered the parlour; and, after taking her seat, she\nexpressed the pleasure which she had felt on reading her daughter's\nletter; and said she hoped, though they differed on religious\nsubjects, that in future they should live together in peace. She\nassured Miss Roscoe that the trifling opposition they had raised\nagainst her was not intended to wound her feelings; and, as they\nwere now satisfied of the goodness of her motives, though they\nstill felt a little regret at the eccentricity of her habits, they\nshould leave her to pursue the course which her own good sense was\ncompetent to mark out. \"We hope you will not object to accompany us\nwhen we visit our friends?\"\n\n\"Certainly not, mamma, unless it be to a ball or card party. My\nreligious principles have not alienated me from the pleasures of\nsocial life, though they have given me a distaste for fashionable\namusements.\"\n\n\"Your secession from the fashionable circle,\" said Mrs. Roscoe,\n\"has excited both astonishment and regret; and many of your best\nfriends very much pity you.\"\n\n\"Their astonishment, mamma, does not surprise me; and though I\naccept of the expressions of their regret as a proof of their\nfriendship, yet if they knew the cause and the reasons, they would\nbe more disposed to offer me their congratulations. I have exchanged\none source of gratification for another; and can attest, from\nexperience, as I have tried both, that my present is more pure and\nmore satisfactory than the former.\"\n\n\"Really, my dear, I often wonder what you can see in religion to be\nso captivated by it?\"\n\n\"If, mamma, my mind had not been illuminated by a heavenly light,\nI should have seen no attractions in it. I once saw none; and if I\nhad been told a few years since that I should live to renounce the\ngaieties of the world, and embrace the calumniated doctrines of\nevangelical piety, I should have trembled in prospect of the issue.\"\n\n\"And I assure you that I even now tremble for the issue. I fear that\nyou will have your mind so bewildered with your religious notions,\nthat its energy will be destroyed, and its peace entirely broken up.\"\n\n\"You need not, my dear mamma, give yourself any uneasiness on that\nsubject. I am happy, more happy than at any former period of my\nlife; and I have a prospect of future happiness before me. What more\ncan I desire? I have gained the prize for which all are contending;\nand though it has been found within the sacred inclosures of\nreligion, where I never expected to find it, yet ought I to cast it\nfrom me?\"\n\n\"Well, my dear Sophia, if you are happy, I will not attempt to\ndisturb your happiness.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Mr. Roscoe; \"nor shall others. If it has pleased God to\ngive you a portion of heavenly light, which he has withheld from\nus, we will not try to extinguish it. I deeply regret that I ever\nreproached you for your religion, or opposed you, for I am now\nconvinced that the spirit which originates such measures must be\nevil. A remark which I met with in a discourse recently published by\na clergyman, has made a deep impression on my mind. He says, when\nillustrating the following sentence--'Behold, the devil shall cast\nsome of you into prison, that ye may be tried'--'It might often\nserve to stay the hand of persecution in religion, to consider\nwho, in fact, sharpens the axe of the executioner, lights the\nfires of cruelty, or kindles the still fiercer flames of bigotry\nand theological hatred in the soul. It is _his_ work who is 'the\nfather of lies;' and therefore the natural enemy of the truth is\nthe author of every plot for its destruction. Consider, therefore,\nif you discover even a spark of intolerance and harshness in your\nown heart, in what flame that spark is kindled, and make haste to\nextinguish it in the waters of love.' When opposing you, my dear\nSophia, I thought I was merely opposing a modern fanaticism; but\nit is possible that I have, through ignorance, been opposing the\nprogress of genuine piety. Ignorance may palliate, but cannot excuse\ncrime; and I now resolve to let you enjoy unmolested the liberty\nof thinking and deciding for yourself on the great question of\nreligion; and my daily prayer is, that God will be as merciful and\ngracious to us, as he has been to you.\"\n\nMiss Roscoe replied, after she had recovered herself from that\noverflow of feeling which such noble sentiments had excited, \"I\nthank you, I thank you, my dear father, for your kindness. You have\ngiven me many proofs of your attachment, but this last I receive as\nthe strongest, because I value it as the most sacred. It is to the\ninfluence of others that I always attributed the opposition which\nI have met with; and, as I felt conscious that it would die away\nupon cool reflection, I endured it as a temporary evil, which would\nbecome productive of a permanent good. Had I met with no opposition,\nI should not have enjoyed so much my present liberty; and I trust\nthat the veil of oblivion will now fall on the past, while a\nbrighter vision rises on our fancy as we look forward to future\ndays.\"\n\nHow many have pined away in the dungeon, or expired at the stake,\nunder the relentless demon of persecution! and though the shield of\nthe civil law now protects Britons from the tortures which the pious\nof former ages had to endure, yet the evil spirit still exists, and\noften displays, even in this land of freedom, its unsubdued enmity\nagainst the pure religion of Jesus Christ. It cannot imprison, but\nit can reproach; it cannot consume by an instantaneous death, but it\ncan break down and destroy the vivacity of the mind by the lingering\nprocess of daily sarcasm and misrepresentation; yet, let not the\nsufferer compromise his principles, but remain faithful, even unto\ndeath. The angel of the Apocalypse, when assigning the reason why\nsome of the brethren of Smyrna should be cast into prison, left on\nrecord the design which God has in view by permitting _you to be\nafflicted_. \"He (_i.e._, the devil) shall cast some of you into\nprison that ye may be tried.\"--\"Here, then,\" to quote the language\nof an elegant writer, \"if you are the children of God, is the real\nend and object of your trials. They are permitted, not in anger, but\nin love; not to destroy, but to sanctify; to prove your sincerity,\nto try your patience, to ascertain your deficiencies, quicken your\nzeal, and stimulate you to confidence, and trust, and prayer, and\nlove to Him who is 'able to save to the uttermost all that come to\nhim.' It is thus that our heavenly Father frustrates the devices\nof the devil. The very fires lighted by the enemy of saints, serve\nonly to cherish the graces of the true Christian, to melt down the\nirregularities of temper, _to burn in_ and fix all those qualities\nwhich were, perhaps, hitherto sketched but in light and fading\ncolours on the character. The spirit of persecution may rage against\nyou, but its duration is fixed. 'Ye shall have tribulation _ten\ndays_:' and as He, 'whose you are, and whom you serve,' has limited\nits duration, so he can abate its violence; and, when his gracious\ndesigns are accomplished, he will deliver you from its power. The\nreligion of Jesus Christ has often been despised and rejected, even\nby those who are her ministers; and sometimes she has been bound in\nchains by the kings of the earth, as though she were the destroyer\nof human happiness; but she has, in this country, broken asunder\nthe bands of her captivity, and is enjoying unrestricted liberty.\n'May her sceptre sway the enlightened world around.' 'Then shall the\nearth yield her increase; and God, even our own God, shall bless us,\nGod shall bless us; and all the ends of the earth shall fear him.'\"\n\n\n\n\nSELF-DELUSION.\n\n\nAccording to our custom, after the engagements of the day we\nretired to the drawing-room, to enjoy the pleasures of social\nintercourse. Mr. Stevens having spent the morning in visiting among\nscenes of sorrow and distress, our conversation naturally turned\non the subject of human happiness and sorrow. After much varied\ndiscourse, Mr. Roscoe (who formed one of our party) observed, \"There\nis much misery in the world; and every individual of the human\nfamily is called, at some period of his life, to drink its bitter\ndraughts; yet, in my opinion, there is a larger portion of happiness\ndistributed among us than is usually admitted.\"\n\n\"These observations,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"are quite correct; yet\nhow few wish to live their life over again. Some, who have no hope\nof a blissful immortality, would not object to a second birth and\nto a second childhood; but in general they would prefer some other\ncourse of life than that which they have run, under a supposition\nthat they should be able to avoid the evils by which they have been\noppressed, and gain the prize of mental happiness, which they have\nnever obtained.\"\n\n\"But the reluctance which we may feel to go back to infancy, and\nlive through our past life is, in my opinion, no substantial\nargument against a preponderance of happiness in the world. If we\nprefer another course to that which we have run, it is because we\ncalculate on a fewer number of evils, and a greater portion of\nenjoyment; but who would not willingly endure all the miseries which\nhe has suffered, with the comforts with which he has been favoured,\nrather than die and enter the invisible world, where he knows not\nwhat destiny awaits him?\"\n\n\"If we know not what destiny awaits us in the eternal world,\nwe ought to prefer the endless continuance of life, even when\nassociated with the severest afflictions, rather than wish for its\ntermination; because _here_ the most violent pulsations of anguish\nadmit of some intermitting seasons of ease; but there, if we miss\nthe prize, _we shall be cast out into outer darkness, where will be\nweeping and gnashing of teeth, and for ever_.\"\n\n\"This subject,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"at times almost overwhelms me; and\nlike Job, when in his anguish, I am inclined to say, 'Let the day\nperish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, there\nis a man-child conceived.' But this is useless. I am in being, and\ncan't go out of existence. I may pass from one world to another, and\nsometimes wish to pass the line which separates the unseen from the\nvisible world, that I may know the final issue; but this is not a\npermanent desire. No! the final issue of life is invested with such\nsolemn and awful grandeur, so much personal and relative happiness\nor misery is dependent on it, that I feel either instinctively or\nmorally afraid to anticipate it. Indeed, I should be a more happy\nman if I could disbelieve the immortality of the soul. Yes, I\nshould. I could enjoy life; and though I might feel some occasional\nregret in prospect of ceasing to exist, yet then I should escape the\nawful sense of horror which sometimes fills my mind in the fearful\napprehensions of future degradation and misery.\"\n\n\"I have thought,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"from our former conversations,\nthat you had no doubt of a state of future happiness.\"\n\n\"Very true, I once had no doubt, but then I never thought deeply\non the subject. I felt confident that I should enter heaven, and\nparticipate in the joys of the blessed, immediately after my\ndecease; but then I was under the power of that self-delusion\nwhich you so often entreated me to guard against. I sometimes\nfelt a momentary elation in anticipation of seeing the beauty and\ngrandeur of the heavenly world; but when I began to examine the\nfoundation of my confidence, I found it giving way. I thought that\nthe Supreme Being could not, consistently with his benevolence,\ninflict punishment in another world for the sins committed in this;\nand that the conscientious discharge of our relative duties towards\neach other, constituted the whole extent of our obligations to him.\nHence I necessarily expected a state of future happiness; but, by\na closer examination of the Scriptures, I am convinced that he has\nappointed a day in which the administration of justice will be\nconducted impartially; when the motives of human action, as well as\nthe actions of human life, will undergo a strict investigation, and\nwe shall be rewarded or punished according as we have done good or\nevil.\"\n\n\"This is a very important discovery, and may be regarded as the\nbeginning of a great change in your religious opinions--a change\nwhich may lead to the most happy results.\"\n\n\"But can such a discovery, which has plunged me into an abyss of\nterrific horror, ever lead to any favourable issue?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, it can. It is the discovery of our guilt and our danger\nthat predisposes and impels us to receive the Christian faith as\nexactly adapted to our moral condition. Until this discovery is\nmade, the scheme of salvation which is revealed in the Bible may be\ncontemplated as true, without being _felt as necessary_; and the\nmind, perplexed and bewildered by the speculative doctrines of its\nown belief, may admit them in theory, and yet reject their practical\napplication. But when we feel our guilt, and perceive the moral\ndanger to which it inevitably exposes us, we necessarily ask the\nquestion which the jailer of Philippi once put to the apostle, 'What\nmust I do to be saved?' Will a person ever put such a question till\nhe _feels_ that he is in danger of being lost?\"\n\n\"Certainly not; but when he _does feel_ that danger, the question\nbecomes not only proper, but one of paramount importance. And what\nMUST we do?\"\n\n\"As you have admitted the importance of the question, I at once\nreply to it, and do so by quoting the language which the apostle\nused when it was proposed to him--'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ\nand thou shalt be saved.' This reply corresponds with the language\nof Jesus Christ himself, who says, 'God so loved the world, that\nhe gave his only begotten Son, that _whosoever believeth in him_\nshould not perish, but have everlasting life.' Hence you perceive\nthat _our salvation is made to depend on our belief in Christ_; but\nit must be obvious to you that it must be such a belief as will\nproduce a practical effect. Not a vague and inoperative assent,\nwhich leaves the mind in a state of moral apathy, neither alarmed by\na perception of danger, nor delighted by the promise of deliverance;\nbut that strong faith in the efficacy of the Saviour's death, and\nhis willingness to save, which will impel us to make a direct and a\nconstant appeal to him.\"\n\n\"I am aware that a change is taking place in my religious opinions,\nor rather, that my religious opinions are beginning to produce a\ndeeper impression in my heart; but my happiness is not increased\nby it. Indeed, I cannot account for the singular restlessness and\ndepression of my mind. I once could pray with ease and pleasure;\nbut now, if I make the effort, I cannot do it. I once had great\ndelight in reading the Scriptures, but now I cannot understand them.\nThe more I read and reflect, the deeper I am involved in mental\nperplexity; and such is the perturbed state of my feelings, that\nunless it please God to interpose, and give me some relief, I shall\nbe lost.\"\n\nAs he gave utterance to these expressions, we were no less\nastonished than delighted; and the rapid interchange of looks,\nseemed to indicate a positive mistrust of our senses. A perfect\nsilence prevailed among us for some minutes, while each one felt\ngrateful to _Him_ who was in the act of redeeming a noble spirit\nfrom the bondage of ignorance and self-delusion, by pouring into the\nrecesses of his soul the light of truth. At length Mr. Stevens said,\nwith an emphasis which I shall never forget,\n\n\"Permit me, my dear Sir, to offer you my congratulations. Your\npresent depression is to me a source of unutterable joy. Your spirit\nis wounded by an unseen hand; but there is balm in Gilead--there is\na Physician there. You are involved in a state of mental perplexity,\nwhich increases in proportion as you labour to extricate yourself;\nbut the day-star will ere long arise in your heart, and then, under\nthe light of a clear manifestation of the truth, you will not only\nsee its beauties, but feel its moral power. You may be tempted to\nconclude that your case is singular, and that you shall never be\nable to derive any consolation from the promises of the Bible; but\nyou must guard against receiving such an impression; and remember\nthat _He_ who, when on earth, opened the eyes of the blind, and\nmade the dumb to sing, and _He alone_, can give you that spiritual\ndiscernment which constitutes the essential difference between a\nreal and a nominal Christian.\"\n\nMr. Roscoe felt somewhat embarrassed by this powerful appeal; but\nrecovering himself, and assuming his natural dignity of manner, he\nsaid, in a subdued tone, \"I have much to unlearn, and much to learn,\nbefore I can become a real Christian. The following passage, in\none of St. Paul's epistles, has often puzzled me, but now I begin\nto understand its meaning: '_Let no man deceive himself. If any\nman among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a\nfool, that he may be wise_.' I once thought that I could acquire\na knowledge of the theory of revealed truth by the mere effort of\nintellectual research and investigation, as we acquire a knowledge\nof any human science; and perhaps few men have devoted more time\nto the study of it than myself; but I have hitherto neglected to\nimplore wisdom from above, because I did not think it necessary. And\nthe result of all my mental application is a painful discovery of\nmy own ignorance, and even this was not made till I saw my danger.\nMy dear Sophia has often told me that a Divine illumination of the\nmind is the great secret in personal religion; but I could form no\nconception of her meaning. Such a sentiment appeared to me not only\n_unnecessary_, but absurd; and I often feared, when she has been\nspeaking on this subject, that her understanding was bewildered\namidst the unintelligible reveries of a mystical theology.\nSometimes, it is true, her arguments would be attended with so much\nforce and skill that she has compelled me to change the subject of\ndebate; but on a recent occasion, when she quoted the passage, 'But\nthe natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for\nthey are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because\nthey are spiritually discerned,' it made so deep an impression upon\nmy heart, that from that hour to the present I have undergone a\nperpetual conflict between my prejudices and convictions.\"\n\nMr. Roscoe had engaged to return home early in the evening, and now\nwithdrew, but not without expressing the great pleasure which the\nconversation had afforded him, and making us promise that we would\nspend an evening at his house in the following week.\n\nMr. Stevens and I walked with him the greater part of the way home.\nIt was a lovely evening. The moon was just rising above the top of\na distant hill; and, as we were entering the grove, we lingered to\nlisten to the songs of the nightingales responding to each other.\n\n\"Here is melody,\" said Mr. Roscoe. \"Here is the song of innocence.\nHere is sweet contentment. And why is the bird of night more happy\nthan man? Ah! why?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"man is fallen from that state of\npurity and honour in which he was created, and it is wisely ordained\nthat misery shall be the consequence of sin.\" We now bade him adieu.\n\nOn our return, Mrs. Stevens said, \"I should like to send a note to\nMiss Roscoe, to tell her the nature of our conversation with her\nfather. Dear creature, it will make her so glad.\"\n\n\"I think you had better defer doing so till to-morrow; and even then\nI would advise you to avoid precipitancy. Her mind has recently been\nunder very strong excitement, and as such news will necessarily\nproduce a powerful effect, great prudence is needful on your part in\nmaking this communication. As she has to pass from the deepest\nanxiety to the most elevated joy, she ought not to be startled\nby a hasty communication; it should be made cautiously, that the\ntransition of feeling may be gradual, instead of rushing in upon her\nwith overpowering force.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"IT WAS A LOVELY EVENING. THE MOON WAS JUST RISING AS\nWE ENTERED THE GROVE.\"\n\nVol. i. page 262.]\n\n\"Perhaps, when he sees her, he will make some allusion to the\nsubject of our conversation, which may lead to an entire disclosure\nof the state of his feelings. What a change! How surprising! I seem\nas if I were suddenly roused from an enchanting dream.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"it is surprising that the Lord of\nglory should condescend to subdue the enmity of the human heart, and\nthus make the child of disobedience an heir of glory; but it ought\nnot to surprise us. If we look back, we shall remember the time\nwhen to us the theatre possessed more attractions than the house\nof God, and the follies of gay life gave us more delight than the\nexercises of devotion; 'but God, who is rich in mercy, for his great\nlove wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath\nquickened us together with Christ (by grace are we saved), and hath\nraised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places\nin Christ Jesus.'\"\n\n\"If,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"Mr. Roscoe should come forth a _decided\ncharacter_, it will make a powerful impression on his irreligious\nfriends. Surely they will not be able to withstand the force of\nsuch a striking evidence in favour of the divine origin of the\nChristian faith--why, it is a self-evident demonstration. I begin to\nanticipate the happiest results.\"\n\n\"But, my dear, you must not be too sanguine; Mr. Roscoe may not come\nforth _so soon, nor so decidedly_, as you anticipate. Though I trust\nthe great moral change has taken place which distinguishes the real\nfrom the nominal Christian, yet, as his mind is of a very singular\norder, we may conclude it will still retain its individuality, and\ndevelope its new qualities with that precision and precaution which\nare its distinctive characteristics. We may calculate on decision,\nbut not rash or hasty decision; on energy, but not much ardent\nzeal; and on unbending integrity and unremitting constancy; but\nhis progression is likely to be that of a man moving onwards with\nthe dignity of principle, rather than under the impulse of strong\npassion.\"\n\n\"But do you not suppose that he will go to Broadhurst, and hear our\ndear Mr. Ingleby next Sabbath?\"\n\n\"Certainly not; you are not to conclude, from the conversation of\nthis evening, that he yet sees the truth with perfect clearness.\nNo, he rather resembles the man of whom we read in the gospel, who,\nwhen the mystic power commenced its mighty operation, saw men so\nindistinctly that they appeared 'like trees walking.' The film is\nbut partially removed from the eye of his understanding; and though\nhe has the power of spiritual discernment, yet not perfectly. And\nsuch is the degree of influence which prejudice, and family, and\nsocial connections may still have over his mind, that probably he\nwill not very soon break through his long-established habits, and\nmingle among us as one of our own people. Indeed, I hardly wish it;\nbecause it will be so extraordinary, that it would be considered as\na religious mania, taken as by some kind of mysterious infection,\nrather than the positive result of deep thought, and cool and\ndeliberate judgment. Oh, no; minds, when under the dominion of\ngrace, are usually governed according to the settled laws of their\nown constitution; and hence the difference of conduct, in relation\nto an open profession of religion, which is so apparent among the\nheirs of salvation.\"\n\n\"I am sure Mr. Ingleby will be delighted to hear of it. I have\noften heard him say, that the conversion of a moral man to the\nfaith of Christ is a more decisive proof of the efficacy of Divine\ntruth, than the conversion of an immoral man, and a much more rare\noccurrence.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, it is more rare, and more difficult, because it is\nnot so easy to convince of mental sin as of an overt act of impiety;\nbut I do not wish that there should be even the most distant\nallusion made on the subject to any one but Miss Roscoe.\"\n\n\"My dear, you surprise me.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I may, but I think you will be satisfied with my reasons\nfor wishing silence to be observed. If we hastily proclaim to\nour friends that Mr. Roscoe has undergone a great change in his\nreligious opinions and principles, we may raise expectations which\nhis cautious habit of mind may disappoint, at least for a season,\nand thus bring on ourselves the censures of some, for stating as a\nfact what we merely wish to be true. And not only so, but we shall\ndeprive his decision of that power of impression which I think it\nwill ultimately possess. For if we are more forward to speak of such\na mental change than he is to profess it, we may be considered as\nthe originators of it; and in that case his example will not have\nsuch a powerful influence over his irreligious friends, as it will\nhave if it appear to be the result, as I expect it will, of calm\ndeliberation. He will move with great caution, and we should speak\nwith equal caution.\"\n\n\"What effect do you think his conversion will have on Mrs. Roscoe?\"\n\n\"Why, unless it should please God to interpose, and bring her to\nthe knowledge of the truth, I have no doubt but it will be regarded\nby her as some astounding and destructive visitation, sent by an\nunknown hand to destroy her happiness for life. She is but partially\nreconciled to the piety of her daughter; and, even now, expresses\nnot only her surprise, but her deep regret; and if her husband\nbecome pious (as I have no doubt but he will), though she may\nendeavour to conform herself to his religious habits, yet it will be\nwith extreme reluctance. But perhaps by his conversation, and the\ndignified consistency of his conduct, he may succeed in process of\ntime, in answer to his own fervent prayers and the wrestling prayers\nof dear Sophia, in winning her to Christ.\"\n\n\"It is possible, nay, very probable, as prayer will be made for her\ncontinually; and the prayer of faith brings to pass moral wonders.\nWe may live to hail them both as fellow-heirs of the grace of life.\"\n\n\"What a blissful consummation!\"\n\n\n\n\nA NIGHT CALAMITY.\n\n\nNear Fairmount Villa stood a tasteful cottage, which Mr. Stevens had\nerected as a means of giving additional security to his premises. It\nwas occupied by a worthy man, named Josiah Hargrave, who gained his\nlivelihood as a common carrier. He had commenced life as a labourer;\nand, by honest industry and perseverance, had risen to a state of\ncomparative independence. His cottage was well furnished; he had two\ncows, a good horse and cart, a donkey, a large stock of poultry,\nsome pigs, and hay and straw enough to last him through winter. He\nhad been married about seven years; and had three children, two sons\nand a daughter. Here they lived in peace and contentment, neither\nenvying their richer, nor despising their poorer neighbours.\n\nI called on them one day; and, when congratulating them on their\nprosperity, I was struck with the very sensible remarks which Mrs.\nHargrave made on the uncertain duration of all earthly blessings.\n\n\"Our heavenly Father,\" she observed, \"has blessed us indeed; He has\ngiven us more than we deserve, and more than we expected; and He,\nwho has given us all, can, if He please, take all away.\"\n\n\"Yes, He can; and suppose He should deprive you of your little\npossessions, do you think you could bow in submission, and say,\n'_Thy will be done_?'\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, if He give the disposition; but if not, we should repine.\"\n\n\"Ah! Sir,\" Josiah remarked, \"we are poor sinful creatures. In\nprosperity we are ungrateful, and in adversity rebellious, unless it\nplease the Lord to sanctify to us His dispensations.\"\n\n\"Which state,\" I asked, \"should you prefer, if it were left to your\nchoice--prosperity or adversity?\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Josiah, \"I would rather let my heavenly Father choose\nfor me, than venture to choose for myself, because He cannot err;\nbut I may. Prosperity, without His blessing, would be a snare;\nadversity, with it, would be a comfort.\"\n\nWe were interrupted in our conversation by the sudden entrance of\nthe eldest boy, a lad about five years of age, who exclaimed, \"I\nhave said my hymn! and,\"----before he saw me.\n\n\"Come,\" said the mother, \"go and speak to the gentleman.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" added the father, \"and say your hymn to him.\"\n\nThe boy approached with a modest blush, and immediately repeated the\nfollowing verses, with ease and propriety:--\n\n    \"I thank the goodness and the grace,\n       Which on my birth have smil'd,\n     And made me, in these Christian days,\n       A happy English child.\n\n    \"I was not born, as thousands are,\n       Where God was never known,\n     And taught to pray a useless pray'r\n       To blocks of wood and stone.\n\n    \"I was not born a little slave,\n       To labour in the sun,\n     And wish I were but in the grave,\n       And all my labour done.\n\n    \"I was not born without a home,\n       Or in some broken shed,\n     A gipsy baby, taught to roam\n       And steal my daily bread.\n\n    \"My God, I thank thee, who hast plann'd\n       A better lot for me;\n     And placed me in this happy land,\n       Where I may hear of thee.\"\n\nHe repeated also the third chapter of the Gospel according to John,\nwithout making any mistake.\n\n\"And where does your boy go to school?\"\n\n\"He goes,\" said Josiah, \"to Mrs. Stevens's Sabbath-school; and, for\nthe last six months, he has been twice in the week up to Squire\nRoscoe's; and Miss Roscoe has been so kind as to teach him.\"\n\n\"There was a time,\" I remarked, \"when the rich were either too\nproud, or too much devoted to the pleasures of the world, to attend\nto the improvement of the lower classes; but now they discover\na disposition to favour almost every institution which pure\nbenevolence establishes.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" said Josiah, \"some do; but not all. We have a few in\nthe parish who are very angry with Mrs. Stevens for setting up her\nSabbath-school; and they have tried to put it down; but, thank\nGod, they have not been able to do it. We have but little light;\nand why should they try to put it out? I went the other day up to\nCleveland Hall, and Sir Harry Wilmot, who was a great enemy to Mrs.\nStevens's Sabbath-school, was pleased to say that my Charles was a\nvery sharp and well-behaved lad, and did us credit. 'Yes, Sir,' I\nreplied, 'and we may thank Mrs. Stevens for that; for if she had not\nopened her Sunday-school, our boy would be as rude and as ignorant\nas other boys.' 'What!' said Sir Harry, 'does your boy go to her\nschool?' 'Yes, Sir.' He was silent some time, and walked backwards\nand forwards his room, and then went to his bureau, and took out a\npound, and said, 'Make my compliments to Mrs. Stevens, and give her\nthis towards the support of her school; and tell her that as long as\nI see such fruits of her labour, I will encourage them.'\"\n\n\"It is pleasing,\" I remarked, \"to see the prejudices which some of\nthe more opulent and powerful have cherished against the benevolent\ninstitutions of society, giving way; and I have no doubt but they\nwill ultimately become the generous supporters of them.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe had protracted our conversation at Fairmount to an unusually\nlate hour, and were preparing to retire to rest, when we heard the\ncry of \"Fire!\" We immediately rushed out, and, on passing through\nthe back yard, we saw the flames issuing from Hargrave's cottage.\nWe hastened to afford assistance; but as the wind blew hard, and we\nhad no engine, it was impossible to save more than a few articles of\nfurniture. It was a dismal scene; I shall never forget that awful\nnight. The mother, with one child in her arms, and another by her\nside, with difficulty made their escape; and Josiah, in trying to\nremove his poor dumb ass from the shed, which stood close behind the\ncottage, was severely scorched; and, though he returned again and\nagain, he was obliged to abandon her.\n\nAt length the fury of the wind abated, the rain came down in\ntorrents, and the neighbours, flocking to our assistance, we were\nable, within the space of about two hours, to extinguish the fire.\nWe now turned our attention to the poor sufferers, who had taken\nrefuge in the villa. On entering the kitchen, I beheld Mrs. Hargrave\nwith her infant in her arms, Charles standing close by her chair,\nand her husband reclining against the wall, as the surgeon was\nexamining his wounds. When they were dressed, and the terror had\nsomewhat subsided, Josiah said, \"The Lord gave, and the Lord has\ntaken away, but, blessed be his name, he hath not taken away my wife\nnor my children.\"\n\n\"There are,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"some circumstances connected with\nevery affliction which take off their keen edge, and give a stronger\nexcitement to our gratitude, than to a murmuring disposition.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Josiah, as he stood gazing on the living wreck of his\npossession, \"where is Henry? I don't see him.\"\n\n\"Where did you carry him?\" said the mother. \"You took him up and ran\nout with him, when I came out with Charles and Ann.\"\n\n\"I have not seen him,\" said Josiah.\n\nThe mother, on hearing this reply, darted from her seat, exclaiming,\nwith a look and in a tone of frantic agony, \"My Henry is burnt! my\nHenry is burnt! O, my Henry! my poor dear Henry! I shall never see\nhim again!\" This subdued the firmness of Josiah; but he could not\nweep. He looked like a man bereft of his reason. He fell back in a\nchair, and said, \"Alas! my poor dear Henry!\" This scene of parental\nanguish was too much for Mrs. Stevens; and, though she bore up for\na time, and endeavoured, by efforts of kindness, to allay their\nsorrow, yet she was obliged at length to retire.\n\n[Illustration: THE LOST CHILD RESTORED.\n\nVol. i. page 270.]\n\nAs the mother was again exclaiming, \"O, my poor Henry! I shall never\nsee him again!\" the gardener entered the kitchen with Henry, and\nsaid, \"Here he is, safe and sound!\" The father sprang up as with\nthe rapidity of thought; the mother rushed across the room, and\nthey both seized the child, as though each was afraid to let the\nother touch him. But after the first maternal kiss had been given\nto little Henry, who knew nothing of what had been passing, she\nsuffered her husband to take him, as she still held her infant in\nher arms, and they both sat down, with their Charles between them,\nwhile the inmates of the villa pressed round to participate in their\njoy.\n\n\"And is it you, my Henry?\" said the mother. \"Kiss me, my boy.\"\n\n\"Kiss me, Henry,\" said Charles.\n\nWe now shed tears of gratitude, and after recovering ourselves from\nthis agitating excitement, I asked the gardener where he found the\nchild.\n\n\"I found him, Sir, asleep between two trusses of hay in Master\nHargrave's stable.\"\n\n\"O, I now recollect!\" said Josiah. \"I carried him and put him in the\nstable when the fire broke out, as I knew he would be safe there,\nbut I had forgotten it.\"\n\nEarly in the morning I hastened to the ruins, where I found Josiah\nand his wife examining the extent of their loss.\n\n\"This has been to you a night which will never be forgotten.\"\n\n\"Very true, Sir,\" said Mrs. Hargrave, \"we never had so many mercies\ncrowded within such a short space of time. What a mercy that we\nwere not consumed, that none of our children were burnt, and that\nthe horse and cart are not injured, so that Josiah can go on in his\nbusiness; we can sing of mercy as well as of judgment.\"\n\n\"Ah! Sir,\" said Josiah, \"what a mercy that, though we have lost some\nof our little property, yet we have not lost any property but what\nwas our own. The Lord gave it to us, and now He has been pleased to\ntake it away, but He has not taken all. He has spared more than I\nexpected, and much more than we deserved.\"\n\n\"It will be a long time before you will be able to repair this loss.\"\n\n\"Yes, it will; but you know, Sir, that it is 'the blessing of the\nLord that maketh rich.' This trial is sent to moderate our desires\nafter the things that perish, to teach us to walk by faith, and to\nderive our happiness from communion with Him who is invisible.\"\n\nAs we were conversing together, Mr. Stevens came up, and taking\nJosiah by the hand, said, \"Don't be cast down, I will have the\ncottage repaired immediately, and till it is finished, you shall\nhave my other cottage at the grove, which happens to be vacant.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Sir, for your kindness; I hope Mrs. Stevens is well this\nmorning?\"\n\n\"She is not well; she has had a bad night.\"\n\nSeveral of the more respectable inhabitants of the village now\njoined us in their expressions of sympathy; and it was unanimously\nresolved that a subscription should be made for the benefit of the\nHargraves. \"Gentlemen,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"I shall be happy to see\nyou at my house in the evening. In the meantime we shall be able to\nascertain the extent of this good man's loss, and then we can adopt\nsome effectual measures to repair it.\"\n\nThere is a kind provision made for the children of sorrow in that\nsympathy which is implanted in almost every breast. Who can avoid\nits excitement when an object of distress is seen, or a tale of woe\nnarrated? Yet there are some who will weep over misery, but will\nmake no personal sacrifice to relieve it. They will talk, but they\nwill not give. They will recommend to others the benevolence which\nthey never practise; and profess to admire the virtue which they\nare not anxious should adorn their own character. \"But,\" says the\napostle, \"whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother have\nneed, and shutteth his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth\nthe love of God in him?\"\n\nThe loss which Josiah Hargrave sustained by the fire, amounted\nto about thirty pounds; and Mr. Roscoe consented, at the urgent\nrequest of the gentlemen who met at his house, to accompany Mr.\nStevens in soliciting the benevolence of the neighbours towards\nrepairing it. They commenced their work of mercy on the following\nmorning, and finished it in the course of the day. The first person\nthey called on was the Rev. Mr. Cole, the rector of the parish,\nand he refused to contribute, because Hargrave chose to attend the\nministry of Mr. Ingleby in preference to his own.\n\n\"This refusal,\" said Mr. Roscoe to his friend, \"does not surprise\nme, but it grieves me. Mr. Cole is an amiable man, but he is, what I\nonce was, a religious bigot; and though he is very charitable to the\npoor, yet his charity is confined to those who come to his church.\"\n\n\"We may,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"call his charity the charity of\nbigotry, not the charity of the gospel.\"\n\n\"I was once taking tea with him, when a poor woman, near the time of\nher confinement, applied to him for relief; but when he found that\nshe attended your chapel, he first reproved her, and then dismissed\nher without giving her any assistance.\"\n\n\"But perhaps he thought she was an impostor?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, she brought with her a note of recommendation from your\nfriend, Mr. Stone.\"\n\n\"And is it possible that a man, who professes to be a minister of\nJesus Christ, could refuse to assist a poor woman in such a time of\nneed, because she does not attend his church? Then, I suppose, if he\nhad been passing by Josiah Hargrave's house when the fire broke out,\nhis first inquiry would have been, Do you attend my church?--and on\nfinding that he hears Mr. Ingleby, he would have gone on, and left\nhim to perish.\"\n\n\"No, no; I think he would have knocked you up, and sent you to\nassist him, because his argument is, 'Let those who imbibe the same\nfaith, assist each other.'\"\n\n\"A similar argument was employed by the priest and Levite, when they\npassed by on the opposite side of the road, disdaining to do more\nthan merely look on the wounded traveller; but the good Samaritan,\nwhose breast glowed with pure benevolence, 'when he saw him he had\ncompassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring\nin oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to\nan inn, and took care of him.' And are we not commanded to display\nthe same comprehensive benevolence, without standing to consider\nthe character of the sufferer, or presuming to inquire into the\northodoxy of his faith?\"\n\n\"I was much pleased with a little anecdote which I heard the other\nday, of your friend Stone. A person applied to him on behalf of a\npoor man in great distress. He was in a hurry, and had no money\nwith him. 'I cannot,' he said, 'examine the case now, as I have a\ngentleman waiting to see me; but, if the poor man belong to the\nhousehold of faith, I will thank you to advance ten shillings for\nme; if not, advance five. My maxim is, according to the law of the\nScripture, to do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of\nthe household of faith.'\"\n\nThe subscription which was raised by Mr. Stevens and Mr. Roscoe,\nwith the remittances received from the Rev. Messrs. Ingleby and\nGuion, amounted to nearly fifty pounds, and this was given by\nMr. Stevens to Josiah, who was so overcome by this unanticipated\nexpression of sympathy, that at first he could scarcely speak. He\nmodestly requested Mr. Stevens to express his grateful thanks, and\nthose of his wife, to his benevolent friends, assuring them that\nthey would endeavour, by future conduct, to prove how deeply they\nfelt this unexpected kindness.\n\nWithin the space of three months Hargrave returned to his cottage,\nwith his family, a richer if not a happier man than before the fire\ndrove him out; and there he lived for many years, respected and\nbeloved by all who knew him.\n\nIf we say that afflictions spring up by chance, or are brought\nabout merely by secondary causes, which are not under the guidance\nand control of God, we not only reject the authority of the Bible,\nbut deprive ourselves of the consolation which follows from a firm\nbelief that the design for which they are sent is merciful and\ngracious. If the sufferer should suppose that his afflictions are\nof such a peculiar nature that they cannot possibly answer any\ngood purpose, I would say, Do not impeach the wisdom of God, nor\nyet presume to fix limitations to the operations of his power. If\nyou have never yet repented of your sins, nor sought the salvation\nof your soul through the mediation of Jesus Christ, your trials\nmay be sent to prepare your heart for the reception of the truth,\nby which you are to be sanctified and saved. As the gentle rain,\ndescending from the clouds of heaven, fits the soil for the seed\nwhich it is to nourish for a future harvest, so it pleases God, in\nthe dispensations of his providence, to allow those painful events\nto transpire, which, imperceptibly, predispose the mind, first,\nto bow in submission to his authority, and then to seek after the\nenjoyment of his favour. There is a native independence in some\nminds, which, in relation to man, is a high and noble virtue, but\nin relation to God, is a daring sin. When one is made rich, and the\nglory of his house is increased, he is sometimes apt to think, if\nnot to say, \"What is the Almighty, that we should serve him? And\nwhat profit should we have if we pray unto him?\" What is this but\nabsolute rebellion against Divine authority, which must be subdued;\nand, if it please Him to employ severe and varied afflictions to\nsubdue it, then \"why should a living man complain--a man for the\npunishment of his sins?\" \"Should we not,\" says an admired writer,\n\"principally value that which is morally good for us; that which\ninfluences and secures our eternal welfare; that by which the safety\nof the soul is least endangered, and the sanctification of the soul\nis most promoted!\" Upon this principle many have had reason to say,\n\"It is good for me that I have been afflicted.\" \"Disease,\" says\none, \"commissioned from above, sought me out, found me in a crowd,\ndetached me from a multitude, led me into a chamber of solitude,\nstretched me upon a bed of languishing, and brought before me the\nawful realities of an eternal world.\" \"I never prayed before,\" says\nanother; \"my life was bound up in a beloved relative; I saw my gourd\nsmitten and beginning to wither; I trembled; I watched the progress\nof a disease which doomed all my happiness to the grave. In that\nmoment of bereavement, the world, which had won my affections, was\nsuddenly deprived of all its attractions. I broke from the arms of\nsympathizing friends, saying, 'Where is God, my Maker, that giveth\nsongs in the night?' I entered my closet, and said, 'Now, Lord, what\nwait I for? My hope is in thee.'\"\n\nMisery seems to possess one of the attributes of the Supreme Being,\nand is everywhere present, inflicting its anguish in every human\nbreast. No situation in life, however elevated, is above its reach;\nnone, however obscure, is beneath its notice. It goes up to the\nthrone, and disturbs the peace of the monarch; it creeps into the\nlonely hut, wringing the heart of poverty; nor can the tears of\npenury, nor the moans of distress, move its pity. It fastens on the\nbabe in the days of infancy; follows him through the various stages\nof childhood and of youth; becomes a more intimate associate as he\nadvances in life, but often reserves its most poignant inflictions\nand its bitterest draughts till old age, when the mind is bereft of\nits vivacity and strength. It lurks beneath the most fascinating\nobjects of delight, and springs out at a season when no danger is\nexpected; sometimes it throws around itself the garb of complacency,\nand, under the appearance of the truest friendship and the purest\naffection, disarms suspicion, that it may more effectually entangle\nits victim.\n\nWhere can we find an antidote for human misery? Not in the\nspeculations of philosophy. Philosophy tells us that we must endure\nour sufferings, because we cannot avoid them; and that it would\nbe visionary to expect an entire exemption from them in a world\nin which they everywhere abound. Miserable comforter! I need some\nsubstantial relief, some prop on which I can lean in the days of\nadversity. Where shall I find it?--in human friendship? Alas! that\nis too often a phantom of the imagination, which plays before the\nfancy while prosperity shines on my pathway, but disappears as the\nstorm arises, and the darkness of the night falls upon me. I need a\nmore stable source of consolation. Where shall I find it? \"In sweet\nsubmission to thy will, O my God!\" Here is bliss. Here I find joy\nin grief. Here I have the bitter waters of life made sweet, the\nheavy burden of care lightened, and my strength becomes equal to my\nday.\n\n\n\n\nA SURPRISE.\n\n\nThe indisposition of Mrs. Stevens increased, and became more and\nmore alarming; she was soon confined to her room, then to her bed;\nand her life was considered in imminent danger. The fever rose\nso high that she became somewhat delirious, but even then, while\nher fancy wandered amidst the wild scenes of her own imaginative\ncreation, she spoke with rapture of her approaching dissolution.\nOn one occasion, as I entered her room, she raised herself up, and\nsang, with a strong yet softened melody of voice:\n\n    \"Lord, what are all my suff'rings here,\n       If thou but make me meet,\n     With that enraptur'd host t' appear,\n       And worship at thy feet!\"\n\nAt length, while we were silently watching the progress of a\ndisorder which was threatening to take from us one of the most\ninteresting and amiable of women, it pleased the Father of mercies\nto throw her into a deep sleep, which lasted many hours. In the\nmorning she awoke both revived and composed; and, after asking for\nMr. Stevens, she requested some refreshment. Thus the cloud which\nhad been hanging over us with such a lowering aspect, now gradually\ndispersed; and, in a few days, she was pronounced out of danger. \"I\nthought at one time,\" she said, addressing herself to her husband,\n\"I should have left you. I felt the parting pang; and it was such\na pang as my heart never felt before. I looked into the valley\nof death; and though the light of life illumined it, yet nature\nrecoiled at the prospect of entering. I had no doubt of the issue of\ndying, but I dreaded the act of dying. But now I am coming back to\nlife. Oh! that my life may be more devoted to Him who lived and died\nfor me!\"\n\nMiss Roscoe had left home the morning after the fire at Hargrave's\ncottage, to spend a few days with her friend, Miss Holmes, but as\nsoon as she heard of Mrs. Stevens's illness, she returned. \"I am\nhappy to see you once more,\" said Mrs. Stevens. \"This is a pleasure\nwhich I did not anticipate. How uncertain is life!\"\n\n\"Life is uncertain,\" replied Miss Roscoe, \"but they who believe in\nChrist shall never die. They may, in the progress of their being,\ndrop their mantle of mortality, as the insect leaves his shell, when\nhe expands into a more beautiful form of existence; but the soul,\nredeemed by the blood, and purified by the Spirit of the Lord Jesus,\n'liveth and abideth for ever.' I hope your mind has been kept in\nperfect peace during your severe affliction.\"\n\n\"It has been kept in peace, but not in perfect peace. On the second\nday, when my disorder assumed a threatening aspect, a horror\nof great darkness fell upon me. I was compelled to admit the\npossibility of having deceived myself--of having claimed privileges\nto which I had no title--of having mistaken the excitement of\nfeeling for the fervour of spiritual devotion--of having indulged\nprospects which I should never realize. But, just as I was beginning\nto sink into despair, the light of mercy broke in upon me, and\nrevived my hope. Never, oh! never had I seen such beauty as I then\nperceived in the verses--\n\n    'Jesu! lover of my soul,\n      Let me to thy bosom fly,\n    While the billows near me roll,\n      While the tempest still is high:\n\n    'Hide me, O my Saviour! hide--\n      Till the storm of life is past;\n    Safe into the haven guide;\n      O receive my soul at last.'\"\n\n\"It is consoling to meet with others who are exercised in a similar\nway with ourselves. I thought your faith was too strong ever to\nstagger, and your prospect of eternal life too clear ever to be\nshaded by dubious uncertainty; but now, I perceive, you can doubt,\nwhich encourages me to hope that my faith may be genuine, though it\nis sometimes involved in perplexity, and sinks into depression.\"\n\n\"Have you,\" Mrs. Stevens asked, \"had any recent conversation with\nyour papa on religious subjects?\"\n\n\"Not very recently, because he has manifested a more than ordinary\ndegree of reserve when there has been any allusion to them, and\ntherefore I have judged it proper to observe great caution while his\nprejudices are in such a state.\"\n\n\"But may not this reserve on his part be the solemn musings of a\nmind deeply impressed by the truth, which has hitherto been either\nmisunderstood or rejected?\"\n\n\"I should be happy if I could put such a favourable construction on\nhis manner; but I fear not.\"\n\n\"Our favourite poet says:--\n\n    'Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,\n      The clouds ye so much dread,\n    Are big with mercy, and shall break\n      In blessings on your head.'\n\nAllow me, my dear friend, to offer you my congratulations. Your\nprayers, I hope, are answered; and you may go home, and embrace your\nfather as a 'fellow-heir of the grace of life.'\"\n\n\"If I could, the sun of my bliss would never go down; but, alas! I\nfear that you congratulate me on what we wish to be true, rather\nthan on what actually is the case.\"\n\n\"My dear, I speak what I believe.\"\n\n\"Impossible! Has he made any particular communication to you, which\nenables you to speak in such a decisive tone?--if so, tell me, my\ndear friend, what you know. I am impatient to hear it.\"\n\n\"The evening before Josiah's cottage was consumed, your father\nspent some hours with us, and seemed not only willing, but anxious\nto converse on religious subjects. At one time, he was affected\nalmost to tears, when he said, 'My dear Sophia has often told me\nthat a Divine illumination of mind is the great secret in personal\nreligion; and on one occasion, when she quoted the words of the\napostle, \"The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of\nGod, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them,\nbecause they are spiritually discerned,\" she made an impression on\nmy mind which has never left me.' Thus God has not only subdued the\nprejudices of your father's heart against the truth, and opened the\neyes of his understanding to see its excellence and importance, but\nhas employed you as the agent in the accomplishment of this great\nwork.\"\n\nAfter recovering herself from the surprise which this communication\nproduced, she said, \"I feel as if enjoying a most pleasant dream--my\nfancy beguiled and deluded by its own visionary conceptions--not\nless surprised than delighted to find myself awake--with\nyou--listening to the most joyful news that could be conveyed to\nmy soul.\" She wept. \"And is it possible?--Is it true?--What, my\nfather!--Excuse me; I must go, that I may hear these glad tidings\nfrom his own lips.\"\n\nOn the following Sabbath Mrs. Stevens was so far recovered as to be\nable to go to church, where she expected to see the Roscoes; but she\nwas disappointed. \"I fear,\" she remarked to her husband, as they\nwere returning home, \"that Mr. Roscoe will not become a decided\ncharacter; but I hope he will not neutralize our dear Sophia.\"\n\n\"He will proceed, I have no doubt, very cautiously; examine and\nre-examine every step he takes; but when the Rubicon is passed,\nthere will be no fruitless attempts to unite religion and the world,\nbut an unreserved devotion of soul to God.\"\n\nIn the evening Miss Roscoe was at the chapel, and after service\ncalled at Fairmount to see her friends.\n\n\"It is true,\" she said; \"my dear father is at length brought to\nknow that he is a sinner, and to feel the importance of redemption\nthrough the blood of Christ. I went with him in the morning to hear\nthe Rev. Mr. Cole, with whose sermon he was not so well pleased as\non some former occasions; and he would have accompanied me this\nevening, had it not been for mamma, who most earnestly requested him\nnot to go.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe evening came when we were to pay our promised visit to the\nRoscoes, and just as we were about to set out, the Rev. Mr. Guion\narrived. When he found where we were going, he proposed returning\nhome; but Mrs. Stevens said, \"No, no; you must accompany us. You may\nbe the means of doing some good; and I think your Master has sent\nyou for that purpose.\"\n\nMr. Roscoe gave us a cordial welcome; but when the name of Guion was\nannounced, Mrs. Roscoe drew back with a very polite movement, and\nbecame unusually reserved. Conversation flagged, till Mr. Roscoe\nmentioned that he had been reading Buchanan's _Christian Researches\nin Asia_, and called our attention to some passages, which had much\ninterested him:--\n\n\"I have returned home,\" says the writer, \"from witnessing a scene\nwhich I shall never forget. At twelve o'clock of this day, being\nthe great day of the feast, the Moloch of Hindoostan was brought\nout of his temple, amidst the acclamations of hundreds of thousands\nof his worshippers. When the idol was placed on his throne, a shout\nwas raised by the multitude, such as I had never before heard.\nIt continued equable for a few minutes, and then gradually died\naway. After a short interval of silence, a murmur was heard at a\ndistance; all eyes were turned towards the place, and behold, a\n_grove_ advancing! A body of men, having green branches in their\nhands, approached with great celerity. The people opened a way for\nthem; and when they had come up to the throne, they fell down before\nhim that sat thereon, and worshipped. And the multitude again sent\nforth a voice like the sound of a great thunder. But the voices I\nnow heard were not those of melody; for there is no harmony in the\npraise of Moloch's worshippers.\n\n\"The throne of the idol was placed on a car, about sixty feet in\nheight, resting on wheels which indented the ground deeply, as they\nturned slowly under the ponderous machine. Attached to it were\nsix cables, by which the people drew it along. Upon the car were\nthe priests and satellites of the idol, surrounding his throne. I\nwent on in the procession, close by the tower of Moloch, which,\nas it was drawn with difficulty, grated on its many wheels harsh\nthunder. After a few minutes it stopped; and now the worship of\nthe god began. A high priest mounted the car in front of the idol,\nand pronounced his obscene stanzas in the ears of the people, who\nresponded at intervals in the same strain. 'These songs,' said he,\n'are the delight of the god.' After the car had moved some way, a\npilgrim announced that he was ready to offer himself in sacrifice to\nthe idol. He laid himself down in the road before the car, as it was\nmoving along, lying on his face, with his arms stretched forward.\nThe multitude passed round him, leaving the space clear, and he was\ncrushed to death by the wheels of the car.\n\n\"A horrid tragedy was acted on the 12th of September, 1807, at\na place about three miles from Calcutta. A Brahmin died at the\nadvanced age of ninety-two. He had twelve wives, and three of\nthem were burned alive with his dead body. Of these three, one\nwas a venerable lady, having white locks, who had been long known\nin the neighbourhood. Not being able to walk, she was carried in\na palanquin to the place of burning, and was then placed by the\npriests on the funeral pile. The two other ladies were younger; one\nof them of a very pleasing and interesting countenance. The old lady\nwas placed on one side of the dead husband, and the two other wives\nlaid themselves down on the other side; and then an old Brahmin,\nthe eldest son of the deceased, applied the torch to the pile, with\nunaverted face. The pile suddenly blazed, for it was covered with\ncombustibles; and this human sacrifice was completed amidst the din\nof drums and cymbals, and the shouts of the Brahmins.\"\n\n\"What horrid rites!\" exclaimed Mr. Roscoe. \"I fear they have been\ntoo long practised to be easily destroyed. I think Christianity\nought to be established in India, for the moral benefit of our\ncountrymen. Many of them go out when young--when their passions are\nstrong--and when they have but very faint conceptions of the nature\nor the importance of religion; and as there are no Sabbaths--no\nreligious ordinances or instruction--they must be in great spiritual\ndanger from the contagion of evil by which they are surrounded.\"\n\n\"I was intimately acquainted,\" said Mr. Guion, \"with a very amiable\nyoung man, the son of a pious solicitor, who went to India, where\nhe remained ten years, and then returned. He called on me some time\nago, and I derived much information from him; but I was grieved\nto find, by his own confession, that he had become a deist. I\nasked him if his deism was the result of any fair and earnest\ninvestigation; and he very honestly said, 'No, I found my belief in\nthe Divine origin of Christianity becoming weaker and weaker when\nI was separated from its ministry and institutions, till at length\nit became extinct; and though I have sometimes made an effort to\nrecover it, yet I have not been able to do so.'\"\n\n\"But,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"though the establishment of Christianity in\nIndia might preserve our countrymen from infidelity, yet I do not\nthink we can calculate on bringing over the natives to embrace it.\"\n\n\"Why not? Is the conversion of a modern pagan to the faith of Christ\nmore difficult than the conversion of an ancient one? If Greece and\nRome were subdued by the preaching of the gospel, who can despair of\nIndia?\"\n\n\"If we had the same miraculous powers as those with which the\napostles were endowed, we might anticipate similar results; but we\nhave not; and I confess that, though I approve of the motive which\noriginates and supports missionary institutions, yet I do not think\nthey will ever prove successful.\"\n\n\"By what means, then, did Paul convert the heathen? Was it by the\nexhibition of miracles? Certainly not. A miracle may make some\nimpressions on the judgment, by demonstrating the power of a\npresent Deity, and of his direct agency in its production, but it\ncannot renew the heart, and inspire the soul with the love of God,\nwith a hatred of sin, and a hope of glory. The miracles of the first\nages were merely the credentials of the teachers, and were given\nas a solemn confirmation, once for all, of the divinity of the\nnew dispensation, which they were commissioned to establish; but\nthey were not the ordained means of conversion. The apostle Paul\nperformed miracles but seldom; and when he did perform them, they\nhad not always a salutary effect on those that beheld them. When\nhe wrought a miracle in Lyconia, the people first worshipped him,\nand afterwards would have put him to death. What, then, were the\nordained means of conversion? The same that are ordained now--the\npreaching of the cross; as the Scripture hath declared, 'Faith\ncometh by hearing.'\"\n\n\"If we admit,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"the concurrence of a supernatural\npower with the agency of man in teaching and in preaching, we ought\nnot to doubt the possibility of converting the whole population of\nIndia to the belief of Christianity.\"\n\n\"Certainly not; and is not this supernatural concurrence promised\nby Jesus Christ, to his ministers of every age? 'Lo! I am with you\nalway, even unto the end of the world.'\"\n\n\"My heart often aches,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"when I reflect on\nthe degradation and wretchedness of women in India--where, if\nthey escape an untimely grave in the days of childhood, they are\ndoomed to a state of perpetual ignorance, excluded from all the\naccomplishments of society, treated as the refuse of the human\nfamily, and are often burned along with the body of their deceased\nhusbands. I think every woman ought to make some effort to raise\nher own sex from this most appalling condition; and as nothing\nwill prove successful but the principles of Christianity, we ought\nall to become the advocates and supporters of missionary and Bible\nsocieties.\"[10]\n\n  [10] \"Will it be asked what females are expected to do? We leave the\n  decision of their conduct to the impulses of their hearts, and the\n  dictates of their judgment. Let but their affections be consecrated\n  to the cause, and their understanding will be sufficiently fruitful\n  in expedients to promote it. Their husbands will be gently prevailed\n  upon to lay apart some of their substance to serve religion.\n  Their children will be nurtured in a missionary spirit, and learn\n  to associate with all their pleasures the records of missionary\n  privations and triumphs. They will solicit the repetition of the\n  often-told tale, and glow with a martyr's zeal for the salvation\n  of the souls of men. Listen to the eloquent appeal of a masterly\n  preacher on this subject:--'Christian matrons! from whose endeared\n  and endearing lips we first heard of the wondrous Babe of Bethlehem,\n  and were taught to bend our knee to Jesus--ye who first taught these\n  eagles how to soar, will ye now check their flight in the midst of\n  heaven? \"I am weary,\" said the ambitious Cornelia, \"of being called\n  Scipio's daughter; do something, my sons, to style me the mother\n  of the Gracchi.\" And what more laudable ambition can inspire you,\n  than a desire to be the mothers of the missionaries, confessors,\n  and martyrs of Jesus? Generations unborn shall call you blessed.\n  The churches of Asia and Africa, when they make grateful mention of\n  their founders, will say, \"Blessed be the wombs which bare them, and\n  the breasts which they have sucked!\" Ye wives also of the clergy,\n  let it not be said that while ye love the mild virtues of the man,\n  ye are incapable of alliance with the grandeur of the minister. The\n  wives of Christian soldiers should learn to rejoice at the sound of\n  the battle. Rouse, then, the slumbering courage of your soldiers to\n  the field; and think no place so safe, so honoured, as the camp of\n  Jesus. Tell the missionary story to your little ones, until their\n  young hearts burn, and in the spirit of those innocents who shouted\n  hosannah to their lowly King, they cry, \"Shall not we also be the\n  missionaries of Jesus Christ?\"' Such an appeal to Christian females\n  cannot be made in vain. They are not the triflers who balance a\n  feather against a soul. They will learn to retrench superfluities,\n  in order to exercise the grace of Christian charity. They will\n  emulate those Jewish women who 'worked with their hands for the\n  hangings of the tabernacle,' and brought 'bracelets, and ear-rings,\n  and jewels of gold,' for the service of the sanctuary. They will\n  consecrate their ornaments to the perishing heathen; and render\n  personal and domestic economy a fountain of spiritual blessings to\n  unenlightened nations, and to distant ages. They will resign the\n  gems of the East to save a soul from death, and bind round their\n  brow a coronet of stars, which shall shine for ever and ever!\"\n\n\"I have no doubt,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, who was not at home on these\nsubjects, \"but the natives of India are as happy with their religion\nas we are with ours; and if the females do not meet with that\nrespect which we meet with, you know, Madam,\" addressing herself to\nMrs. Stevens, \"that they do not expect it. Therefore, as it hath\npleased the Almighty to give them their religion, I think we ought\nnot to try to take it from them. We should not like to have ours\ntaken from us. However, I think there is too much attention paid to\nreligion in our days; it was not the case in the good old times of\nour fathers.\"\n\n\"But, mamma, would you not save a little child from being drowned,\nor a widow from being burned, if it were in your power?\"\n\n\"Certainly, my dear.\"\n\n\"Now, mamma, as this cannot be done by force, we propose convincing\nthe people, by a process of fair reasoning, that such practices are\nsinful and impolitic; and thus induce them, if possible, to abolish\nthem.\"\n\n\"Oh! that may be very proper, but I think that we have nothing to do\nwith it, and therefore, why should we trouble ourselves about it?\nWhy not let things remain as they always have been?\"\n\n\"I must confess,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"that I begin to differ from you,\nand I shall be very glad to see an auxiliary missionary society\nestablished amongst us. If we have a purer faith than the Hindoos,\nand one better calculated to promote individual and relative\nhappiness and improvement, we ought to impart it. To monopolize it\nwould be an act of selfishness and injustice; and though I have\nhitherto, like too many around me, been guilty of this act, I will\ngo and sin no more.\"\n\n\"But, surely,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"you do not intend to become a\nmissionary, and transplant us to some province of India?\"\n\n\"No, no, my dear; I will not go myself, but I will give some portion\nof my property to send others.\"\n\nHad some shapeless figure, of hideous look, suddenly entered the\nroom, and denounced a heavy woe on each inmate of the dwelling, Mrs.\nRoscoe might have been more alarmed, but she could not have appeared\nmore surprised than when she heard this last sentence.\n\n\"What!\" she said, in a more lofty tone than I had ever known her\nassume, \"and have you so far forgotten your own dignity as to\nconnect yourself with missionary societies, which go abroad on\npurpose to disturb other people in their religion, as we have been\ndisturbed in the enjoyment of ours?\"\n\n\"My dear, you seem strangely excited, as though I was going to do\nsome barbarous or immoral act; when all I propose doing, is to give\na little of that wealth which God has given to us, to convey to the\ndeluded and degraded Hindoos the good news and glad tidings of great\njoy which the holy angels announced to the shepherds of Bethlehem,\nand which the ministers of Christ proclaim to us. Surely you cannot\nobject to this.\"\n\n\"I do not suppose you would like the Hindoos to send their religion\nover to us, for our adoption.\"\n\n\"They may if they please; but they would not manage to persuade our\nwidows to burn on the funeral pile of their deceased husbands, or\ninduce fathers and mothers to destroy their lovely children.\"\n\n\"Well, at any rate, I think you ought to stay till they apply to us\nfor our religion as a substitute for their own.\"\n\nIt was now late, and the company upon the eve of retiring, when\nMiss Roscoe arose, took from the book-case one of the volumes of\nDoddridge's _Exposition on the New Testament_, placed it on the\ntable, and said to Mr. Guion, \"I know, Sir, that it is your custom\nto conclude your social visits by reading the Scripture and prayer;\nand if you will consent to do so this evening, you will greatly\noblige us.\"\n\n\"I have no objection, if it be perfectly agreeable.\"\n\n\"Certainly, Sir,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"we ought not to object to\nprayer.\"\n\nThe bell was now rung, and the servants were requested to come to\nfamily prayer. We waited several minutes, during which time Mrs.\nRoscoe was very restless. At length they entered, at irregular\nintervals of time, seating themselves on the corner of the chairs\nwhich stood nearest the door, expressing, by their looks, the utmost\ndegree of surprise at this novel service, and occasionally, by the\nsatirical smile which played over their countenance, indicating\neither their contempt or their disposition to merriment. I needed no\none to tell me that this was the first time the _family_ had ever\nknelt together at the throne of grace; but, knowing that a great\nmoral change had taken place in Mr. Roscoe, I felt conscious that it\nwould not be the last; and could not refrain offering my inaudible\nexpressions of praise to the God of all grace, for permitting me\nto see _that_ fire enkindled on this newly-erected domestic altar,\nwhich has ever since burnt with unceasing brightness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONSULTATION.\n\n\n\"Mamma,\" exclaimed Miss Denham, as she entered the drawing-room one\nmorning, after rather a lengthened walk, \"I have heard something\nthat will surprise and distress you; I can scarcely believe\nthe report, but I have been assured of its truth from the best\nauthority.\"\n\n\"What is it, my dear? you seem agitated, has anything alarmed you?\"\n\n\"Nothing more, mamma, than this dreadful report; really none of\nus seem safe; dear Mr. Cole never spoke a greater truth than when\nhe said there was something of a _bewitching_ nature in this new\nreligion! I am alarmed for myself, and almost wish that we were\naway from this place altogether. But I must tell you the story. Mr.\nRoscoe has taken to his daughter's religion, and is now as fanatical\nas herself!\"\n\n\"I cannot credit this, my dear,\" replied Mrs. Denham; \"you know how\noften I have said this is the worst place I know for scandal; you\nshould be careful how you receive these reports; no, no, my dear,\nI cannot believe such a story as this about Mr. Roscoe; he is too\ngood, amiable, and virtuous a man to be led so far wrong, and too\nmuch of the gentleman to stoop to anything so mean and vulgar.\"\n\n\"I hope, mamma, it may be so, but I am afraid it is true; and every\none is so distressed and affected by the intelligence, I assure you\nit has produced quite a sensation.\"\n\n\"My dear, it is impossible; I saw him at church on Sunday, and\nheard him myself repeat the responses louder than he ever did\nbefore; and if you recollect, we talked about it when we got home.\"\n\n\"No, mamma; if you recollect, we dined last Sunday with a large\nparty at Mr. Gladstone's, and did not go to church.\"\n\n\"Then it was Sunday week.\"\n\n\"It has happened since then. It happened one night last week; and\nas I have been at some pains to get at an entire knowledge of this\ndisaster, I will tell you about it.\"\n\n\"Oh! dear,\" said Mrs. Denham, as she composed herself to listen to\nthe tragical story, \"what a world we live in! Really nothing but\nreligion seems to be thought of. Our very servants are becoming\nreligious, and who can wonder at it, when the rich set them the\nexample! And if this should be true about Mr. Roscoe, which I\ndevoutly pray heaven may forbid, there is no saying where the evil\nwill stop.\"\n\n\"Well, mamma, you know that on Tuesday week Mr. and Mrs. Stevens,\nand the gentleman that is on a visit there, and the Rev. Mr. Guion,\nall went to spend the evening at Mr. Roscoe's.\"\n\n\"I have always said,\" interrupting her daughter, \"that there is no\ngood doing when such people get together. If I had seen them go, I\nwould have given Mr. Roscoe a hint to be on his guard. He was taken\nby surprise, I have no doubt. Well, my dear, go on.\"\n\n\"Well, ma', as I was saying, they all went; and when there, Mr.\nRoscoe said that he would change his religion, and have that which\nflourished so luxuriantly at Fairmount; and he got Mr. Guion to read\na chapter out of the Bible, and to say prayers, and had all the\nservants in to hear him, and they all knelt down, though I heard\nthat the cook stole out slyly, when they were all upon their knees.\nShe didn't like it.\"\n\n\"I always thought well of that cook; she has a taste above her class\nin life, I should like to have her; do you think she will leave?\"\n\n\"I don't know, ma', but I should think she will; I will ask her if\nyou wish it.\"\n\n\"No, my dear, it won't do for you to appear in the matter; I'll\nspeak to John to speak to her. But now about Mr. Roscoe, what is to\nbe done?\"\n\n\"But, ma', I have something more dismal to tell you.\"\n\n\"I hope not. Why, this is enough to shock the feelings of an angel.\nReading the Bible, and prayers, and kneeling down on the floor with\nservants! I hope Mrs. Roscoe is not gone off.\"\n\n\"No, all this was much against her will, and she is very unhappy\nabout it, and says she shall never be happy again.\"\n\n\"Dear creature, it is impossible; but what else have you to tell?\"\n\n\"Why, Mr. Roscoe proposed to set up a missionary society, to raise\nmoney to send this new religion abroad.\"\n\n\"Well, my dear, this last part of your story relieves my mind. This\nis a proof of mental derangement. The Chancellor would not want a\nstronger. It is often the case, when people go wrong in their mind,\nthey profess strong attachment to the things they hate most when\nthey are in their right senses. I now must insist upon it that you\nnever make another call at Fairmount. Really, if you should ever\ntake up with this evangelical religion, I should be tempted to wish\nmyself in heaven, to escape the mortification.\"\n\n\"Indeed, ma', you need give yourself no uneasiness on that subject.\nI have no predisposition in favour of religion. Indeed, I have my\ndoubts, and if it were fashionable, I think I should profess myself\na sceptic, but that would not be lady-like.\"\n\nMrs. and Miss Denham, after much long and serious debate, resolved\non making a call on Mrs. Roscoe. They found her at home, alone,\ndepressed, and reserved, and though she made an effort to rise to\nher usual vivacity, yet she could not succeed. Mrs. Denham was very\nparticular in her inquiries after the health of Mr. Roscoe, and was\nsurprised to hear that he was well; and on being informed that he\nwas gone with Miss Sophia to spend an hour at Fairmount, in company\nwith the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, she became greatly agitated.\n\n\"Then I fear, my dear Mrs. Roscoe, that it is too true? Oh! I have\nhad no rest since I heard it. What a trial! Really, no one is safe.\nThat such a sensible, and amiable, and virtuous man as Mr. Roscoe\nused to be, should so far forget himself and all his friends as to\nchange his religion, is very astonishing and affecting. We called\non the Rev. Mr. Cole as we came by, to ask if he had heard of the\nreport, and here he is, dear man, coming to condole with you.\"\n\n\"I am glad to see you,\" said Mrs. Denham to Mr. Cole, as he entered\nthe parlour; \"we have been offering our sympathy to dear Mrs.\nRoscoe--but can't something be done, Sir?\"\n\n\"Then I suppose there is some foundation for the report. I always\nthought Mr. Roscoe a very judicious and sensible man, and I still\nhope, that though he has diverged into this eccentric course, his\ngood sense will, on cool reflection, induce him to return.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" replied Mrs. Roscoe, \"I hope so too, but it is possible\nthat the influence and example of our daughter may protract, if it\ndo not perpetuate, the delusion under which he unhappily labours;\nand if so, I shall never see another happy day.\"\n\n\"O yes, you will,\" said Mr. Cole, \"his sun is only passing under\na cloud, and when his mind clears up, it will shine with its\naccustomed brightness. His good sense will preserve him from that\nfatal vortex into which too many have fallen.\"\n\n\"If, Sir, this were a sudden change, I should be induced to believe\nthat he might be recovered, but it has been coming on for a long\ntime. You know that he does not make up his mind on any subject very\nsuddenly, but when he has done it, you know how firm he is.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" said Mr. Cole, \"but his spirits have been unusually\ndepressed for some months. I remember the last time we spent an\nevening at Mr. Denham's, that I rallied him on his dulness when we\nwere at play. We must raise his spirits, and then we shall drive\naway his evangelical notions.\"\n\n\"I have not noticed any particular depression. He has been rather\nmore grave, yet he has been cheerful; and has talked rather more\nfrequently on religious subjects, but they have not affected his\nspirits.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. Cole, \"I will come and have a rubber with him, and\nI will engage to rub these notions out of him.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Sir, he has formally declined playing any more, and has\nrequested me never again to introduce cards.\"\n\n\"Really,\" said Mrs. Denham, \"this is very affecting. Not play again!\nNot suffer cards to be introduced? Then I suppose he intends to\nbreak off connection with all his old friends, and take up with the\nevangelicals; but I hope you have too much firmness to yield to him.\"\n\n\"It has been my maxim through life to sacrifice everything for the\nsake of domestic peace. I cannot oppose Mr. Roscoe, and I must\nconfess that he has manifested the utmost degree of affection and\nkindness.\"\n\n\"The apostle St. Paul has predicted,\" said the Rev. Mr. Cole, \"that\nin the last days perilous times should come, and indeed they are\ncome. The church once enjoyed quietude, but now she is rent into\ndivisions; not so much by the Dissenters who have seceded from us,\nas by the evangelical clergy who are admitted within her pale.\nTheir eccentric notions, and their extempore and familiar style of\npreaching, operate as a charm on the minds of their hearers; and\nwherever they go, some stir is always occasioned about religion.\nIn general, the poor and the illiterate become their admirers; but\nsometimes we see men of sense and learning beguiled by their artful\nsophisms. I can account for their success among the lower orders,\nbut when I see an intelligent man brought over to their belief, I\nconfess I am puzzled. But still I won't give up Mr. Roscoe. I will,\nin the course of a few Sundays, preach a sermon which I will procure\nfor the occasion.\"\n\n\"You will greatly oblige me if you will, Sir, but you must do it\nsoon, for I dread the idea of Mr. Roscoe going to hear Mr. Ingleby\nwhile he is in his present state of mind.\"\n\n\"But you have no idea of his leaving my church?\"\n\n\"Why, you know very well,\" Miss Denham remarked, \"that none of the\nevangelicals think you preach the gospel. I have heard Miss Sophia\nsay so many times, and you may be sure that she will try to make\nher papa believe it, and if he is become an evangelical, he is sure\nto believe it; for I have noticed that what one believes, they all\nbelieve. Really, Sir, there is so much ado made now about the word\ngospel and evangelical preachers, that the subjects are become quite\noffensive.\"\n\n\"Yes, to persons of intelligence and taste.\"\n\n\"Exactly so, Sir; you will excuse what I am going to say, but I\noften think that you are rather severe, too much so I know for some\nof your hearers; but I have no idea how any people of sense can go\nand hear such preaching as Mr. Ingleby's. I heard him once, _on the\nloss of the soul_. I could not sleep after it--and even now, at\ntimes I think of it. But, Sir, you know we have nothing to do with\nsuch subjects till we die, or till after death.\"\n\n\"Such preaching,\" said Mr. Cole, \"is as offensive to pure taste, as\nit is revolting to our feelings.\"\n\n\"Exactly so; you know we are to be allured to a brighter world--not\nfrightened there. Pray, Sir, shall we have the pleasure of meeting\nyou and Mrs. Cole at Mr. Ryder's on Tuesday? By the by, I wonder\nyou do not cure Mr. John of his scepticism. There is to be a large\nparty, and rather a gay one.\"\n\n\"I don't think,\" replied Mr. Cole, \"that Mr. John Ryder has any more\nscepticism than does him good--it keeps off the gloom which a belief\nin the Bible almost necessarily brings over the youthful mind. No, I\nshall not be with you. I have an engagement with a few friends who\nare going to Bath, to see _Romeo and Juliet_.\"\n\n\"How dull and insipid is a religious service when compared with a\nplay. What a pity that our Maker requires us to be religious. I have\nnot seen a play for some months, and when I was hearing Mr. Ingleby,\nI really thought that I should never have courage to see another.\nOh, how he did denounce the theatre! He really said that it was the\npathway to hell.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Cole, with high disdain, \"that man would interdict\nus from every social enjoyment; would batter down the temple of the\nmuses, or change it into a house of prayer; and bring before our\nimagination the awful realities of the eternal world, with so much\nforce, as should compel us to think, with perpetual awe, on death\nand the future judgment.\"\n\n\"Oh! dear, they are awful realities indeed. When I heard him, he\nalluded to dear Miss Patterson, who took cold on returning from\nthe play, and died, you know, Sir, a few weeks afterwards? Oh! she\nwas a lovely creature. She was too good to live on earth. Had she\nbeen religious, she would have been a saint. But she often used\nto say that her grandpapa left his religion to her aunts, and his\nfortune to his grandchildren. Mr. Ingleby, after condemning plays,\n&c., as impure and sinful, made a long pause, and then proposed his\nquestions with so much solemnity, that my pulse began to beat with\nfeverish rapidity.--'Should you like,' he said, and he looked while\nhe said it so stern and solemn, 'to pass from the theatre to the\njudgment-seat of Christ? Should you like to leave the gaieties of\nthis world, to associate with the awful realities of another?' There\nwas so much stillness in the church as he went on in this strain of\nawful eloquence, and so many people were overcome by what he said,\nand such a serene smile on his countenance when he began to speak\nabout our Saviour, that I do really think, if I had not been very\nfirm and decided, I should have become as religious as any of them.\nIt was, I assure you, very difficult to withstand his fervour.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said Mr. Cole, \"you will never go again, for evil\ncommunications corrupt the best of hearts.\"\n\n\"Go again!\" exclaimed Mrs. Denham, \"not if she have any respect\nfor her own happiness, or ours. Why, to hear this about the sermon\nis enough to frighten any good Christian; what must it have been\nto have heard the sermon itself! One thing puzzles me when I think\nabout it--why do our bishops consecrate such men?\"\n\n\"Oh, unluckily we have some evangelical bishops.\"\n\n\"A bishop evangelical! don't you consider that a great wonder, Sir?\"\n\n\"I consider it a great calamity to our church.\"\n\n\"Exactly so; then I suppose we shall always be annoyed with these\nevangelical clergy if the bishops sanction them. I hope you won't\nturn evangelical.\"\n\n\"Not while I retain my reason. When that is gone, I may go off too.\"\n\nMy readers who are but superficially acquainted with the religious\nhabits and style of conversation which prevail in the higher walks\nof life, may be induced to imagine that I have given a strong\ncolouring to some parts of my narrative, but I assure them that I\nhave not. Indeed, had I quoted the epithets and the phrases which,\nI know, are sometimes employed, when a certain class of fashionable\nChristians, with their anti-evangelical pastors, venture to discuss\nreligious subjects, and animadvert on religious people, my pages\nwould be too disfigured to pass through the hands of the pious\nreader.\n\nIt is to be lamented that many intelligent and amiable persons, who\noccupy very prominent positions amongst us, and who are admired and\nesteemed by all who know them, are as ignorant of the nature and\nthe design of Christianity as the ancient Scythian or the modern\nbarbarian. They imagine that they are Christians, because they are\nborn in a Christian country; that they are very good Christians,\nbecause they sometimes go to church; and that they are safe for\nanother world, because their conscience does not condemn them for\nthe practices in which they now indulge themselves. And if any one,\nin the most guarded way and the kindest tones of speech, venture\nto suggest the possibility of self-deception, they are offended,\nor take refuge in the belief that their hearts are too good to be\nguilty of such a mean vice. They keep to the religion in which they\nwere born and educated; and this to them is the ark of safety.\n\nYes, you are a Christian in Britain, as you would be a Mahometan\nif you had been born in Turkey; but search the Scriptures, and\nexamine if the design of Christianity has ever been accomplished\nin you. Have you been born again? No. That subject you ridicule,\nbecause you do not understand it. Have you had repentance towards\nGod, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ? No; and if these subjects\nwere pressed upon your conscience with the affection of apostolic\ncompassion, and ardour of apostolic zeal, you would retire\ndispleased, if not disgusted, with the minister who dares to enforce\nthem as essential to your safety and happiness. Are you crucified\nto the world by the moral influence of the death of Jesus Christ?\nCrucified to the world! The very phrase, though scriptural, grates\noffensively on your ear! Crucified to the world! O no. You are\ndevoted to its pleasures, its follies, its amusements. Shut up the\ntheatre, abolish cards, interdict the assembly and the ball, and how\nwould a large portion of our modern Christians be able to support\nlife?\n\nYou may imagine that you are a _good Christian_, because you\nsometimes go to church; but an occasional visit to a material\ntemple will not produce that moral transformation of the soul which\nis essential to fit you for the holy exercises and enjoyments of\nanother world. You may reject these questions which I now propose\nto you; but before you reject them, permit me to urge you to search\nthe Scriptures, and then you will see that they have a paramount\nclaim on your attention. Can you be a Christian unless you possess\nthe spirit, and are in some degree conformed to the image of Jesus\nChrist?\n\nBut it ought not to excite our astonishment, though it may our\ntenderest sympathy, to see the great majority of those who move in\nfashionable life passing away their time amidst the gaieties and\nfollies of the world, when they are sanctioned, if not encouraged\nby the clergy, who ought to teach them better, both by precept and\nexample.\n\nWe have ministers of religion who do not hesitate to hold up to\nridicule and contempt the essential doctrines and self-denying\nprecepts of their own faith; and attempt, as far as the influence\nof their example can extend, to banish all serious and devout piety\nfrom the social circle. They see no harm in customs which the spirit\nand even the letter of the Scriptures condemn; and sanction by\ntheir presence those scenes of human folly and gaiety which have\ncaptivated and ruined thousands, who were once the ornaments of\ntheir fathers' house.\n\nSuch ministers not only sanction the customs of the world, but\nthey discountenance all serious piety, and declaim against their\nevangelical brethren as disturbers of the peace of the church. If\nChristianity be a cunningly devised fable--if the life of faith and\nof practical devotedness of the soul to God be mere fancies--if\nheaven and hell be the conceptions of romance, brought into the\npulpit to terrify the credulous and please the sanguine--I should\nnot hesitate to pronounce a heavy censure on those ministers who\nbring forward these subjects so often, and who enforce attention to\nthem with so much ardent and impassioned eloquence.\n\nBut if Christianity be true--if the final happiness or misery of the\nhuman soul depend on faith in Christ--if the glories of heaven and\nthe terrors of hell are realities which exceed the power of man to\ndescribe--then even the most sceptical must admit that the ministers\nof religion ought, with great boldness and impassioned earnestness,\nto rouse their hearers to a serious and immediate attention to these\ngreat, these awful subjects; and ought they not to teach by example,\nas well as by precept? and by the purity of their morals--by\ntheir religious habits and style of conversation--give strong and\nunequivocal proofs that they preach what they believe, and believe\nwhat they preach?\n\nBut let no Christian, whatever rank he may hold in social life, or\nwhatever degree of reputation he may have attained for intelligence,\nor good sense, or for amiability of temper, presume to hope that he\nwill ever be able to make a scriptural profession of religion (after\nhe has felt the power of it) without exciting the displeasure, if\nnot the opposition, of his irreligious relatives and friends. They\nwill not object to the religion of forms and ceremonies; to the\nreligion which is confined to the temple, or to the bed of sickness;\nto the religion which allows of a conformity to the gaieties and\nthe follies of the world, and which frowns from its presence all\nreferences to death, to judgment, to heaven, and to hell; but\nthe religion which consists in the moral renovation of the soul,\nwhich identifies man with a living Saviour, and which raises his\nanticipations to the glories of the invisible world, they despise,\nand cast it from them as a strange thing, and then ridicule it as\ncontemptible.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DARK VALE ILLUMINED.\n\n\nJust as we were going out to take an evening walk, the postman\ndelivered a letter addressed to Mrs. Stevens; she read it, and in\nsilence handed it to her husband. I apprehended, from the expression\nof her countenance and her excited manner, that it conveyed some\npainful intelligence; and this was immediately confirmed by Mr.\nStevens, who said, \"This is a letter from our nephew, Mr. Lewellin,\ninforming us of the sudden and dangerous illness of his mother, and\nhe requests that we hasten to see her.\"\n\n\"The intelligence,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"is most painful, but it\ndoes not greatly surprise me; I had something like a presentiment\nof it in the mental visions of the past night; I saw her leaning\non the top of her staff, standing near the brink of a river, whose\nwaters divided of themselves, as a radiant brightness gilded the\nwhole horizon; and while listening for some moments to the sounds of\nsweetest harmony, I awoke, and found it was a dream. Thus my senses\nwere locked up in the chambers of slumber, that my spirit might go\nand commune with my dear sister before she leaves us.\"\n\nA carriage was immediately sent for, and we set off from Fairmount\nabout eight o'clock. It was a cloudy moonlight night. We rolled\non in silence, being too much absorbed in painful thought and\nexpectation to break the quiet which grief requires for the solace\nof her own feelings. At length Mr. Stevens, alluding to Mrs.\nLewellin's illness, said, \"With what different emotions do the\ninhabitants of the visible and invisible world contemplate the same\nevent! While we are anticipating her departure with deep sorrow, the\nglorified spirits of her deceased husband, and child, and father,\nare attuning their harps of joy, to celebrate her entrance among\nthem.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" Mrs. Stevens replied; \"our loss is their gain; but it\nis as natural for us to deplore our loss, as it is natural for them\nto exult in their gain.\"\n\n\"I admit, my dear, that we cannot, while encompassed by human\ninfirmities, avoid feeling the pang of sorrow on such an occasion as\nthis, though we may moderate its intensity by reflecting on our own\ndissolution, which will introduce us into the society of those who\nobtain the prize of immortality before us.\"\n\nWe had no difficulty in procuring a change of horses at each\nsucceeding stage; nothing worthy of remark occurred during the\njourney, and on the following morning we arrived at Mrs. Lewellin's\ncottage.[11] The same jessamine, and honey-suckles, and rose trees\nadorned its tasteful front; the same hawthorn hedge inclosed its\nwell-cultivated garden; the little wicket-gate still swung on its\nhinges, as when I paid my first visit six years before; but they had\nlost their attractions, or I had lost my power of enjoyment.\n\n  [11] See page 6.\n\nOn seeing Mr. Lewellin, Mrs. Stevens said, \"Is your mother still\nliving, my dear George, or has she left us?\"\n\n\"O no, aunt, she has not left us; she has made many inquiries about\nyou, and longs to see you. She says that when she has seen you she\nshall depart in peace.\"\n\n\"When was she first taken ill, and what is the nature of her\ndisorder?\"\n\n\"She has not been well for some weeks, but her indisposition\ncreated no alarm. On Sabbath morning she felt better, and went to\nchapel, where she commemorated the death of the Redeemer, with her\nChristian brethren. As she was returning home she was exposed to a\nheavy shower, and though she took every precaution to prevent any\nevil consequences, yet, early in the evening, an inflammation of\nthe bowels came on, which has raged with unabating violence; and\nher medical attendant says that he does not expect that she can\nlive through the day. Her pains have been excruciating, but she has\nborne them with the fortitude and resignation of a Christian, and\nnow she seems to be enjoying that fatal ease which is the immediate\nforerunner of dissolution.\"\n\nOn entering her room she received us with composure, and calmly said\nto her sister, \"Weep not for me, the days of my widowed mourning are\ndrawing to a close. I have long lived secluded from the world, and I\ncan leave it without a sigh.\"\n\n\"Then,\" I said, \"you have no fear?\"\n\n\"Fear! why should I fear? I know I am in the valley, but it is\nillumined with the light of life. I have often dreaded this hour,\nyet it is the happiest hour I have ever known.\"\n\n\"To us, my dear sister, it is a most painful hour.\"\n\nOn seeing her sister and her son in tears, she said, \"I hope you\nwill compose yourselves, that we may enjoy each other's society\non this side Jordan, which I am soon to pass.... My dear George,\nreceive once more, and for the last time, the congratulations of\nyour mother on the honour which the God of all grace has conferred\non you, in adopting you as his son. I now solemnly charge you,\nbefore Him and the pious friends now with you, always to act worthy\nof your high vocation. Maintain the dignity of your Christian\ncharacter by the integrity of your principles, your decision, and\nyour zeal for the honour of the Lord of life and glory. As much of\nyour future happiness and respectability will depend on the choice\nwhich you may make when you settle in life, let me beseech you _to\nmarry only in the Lord--prefer piety to beauty, good sense to a\nlarge fortune, and remember that a meek and quiet spirit_ is the\nmost beautiful ornament in the home of a righteous man.\"\n\nShe then turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, and said, \"I thank\nyou for all your kindness to me and mine in the days of our\nadversity. The Lord reward you a thousand fold. I have only one\nlegacy to leave, and I leave it to you. I bequeath to you my dear\nboy; take care of him for my sake.\"\n\nThe pious rector of the parish made an early call. Mrs. Lewellin\nreceived him with a sweet smile, and motioned him to be seated.\nAfter inquiring for her welfare, he thus accosted her: \"What would\nyou now do without a Saviour?\"\n\n\"I should perish! But I have a Saviour whose blood cleanseth from\nall sin.\"\n\n\"His blood,\" he said, \"is of more value than a thousand worlds.\"\n\nShe replied, \"_It is inestimable! It is inestimable!_\"\n\nWe all knelt down, and this man of God devoutly prayed that she\nmight have \"an entrance ministered unto her abundantly into the\neverlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.\"\n\nAs the cottage was not large enough for our accommodation, the pious\nrector invited us to his hospitable home, but Mrs. Stevens resolved\nnot to leave her sister. There was grief over the whole village as\nthe rumour spread that she was dying. Her benevolence had added\nlustre to her piety, and such was the veneration and attachment\nin which her character was held, that many a hand knocked softly\nat the door of her cottage, and many a low voice inquired how God\nwas dealing with her. About noon she fell into a sweet sleep, and\nslept for several hours; she awoke refreshed, animated; a heavenly\nserenity beamed on her countenance, as she exclaimed, \"Oh! the bliss\nof dying!\"\n\n\"You are happy, mother, in the prospect of death.\"\n\n\"Happy, my child, yes, my joy is unspeakable.\"\n\nHer voice suddenly faltered, yet she gently whispered \"Farewell\"\nas her son caught her in his arms, and with her eyes fixed on him,\nafter one strong convulsive struggle, she expired.\n\nMrs. Lewellin had generally attended the village church in the\nmorning of the Sabbath, and in the evening she usually heard an\nexcellent minister of Christ who preached in a Dissenting chapel,\nand when reproached for her liberality by the more bigoted, she used\nto say, \"_I have no objection to go where I can hold communion with\nthe Saviour_.\" Adjoining the chapel there was a burying-ground,\nto which she had long been accustomed to resort, as favourable to\nmeditation, and on returning from an evening walk with the pious\nrector, we passed near it, and were induced to visit the spot which\nshe had selected as the place of her burial; it was overshadowed by\na large oak tree, and partially inclosed with some evergreens, which\nshe had transplanted from her own garden.\n\n[Illustration: THE DARK VALE ILLUMINED.\n\nVol. i. page 300.]\n\n\"You see,\" he said, \"how instinctively we love immortality, and as\nwe cannot live here always, we wish life to flourish over the tomb\nin which our body is decaying. This is simple and beautiful. She\nwas a woman of great taste, and a Christian of high principle. Her\nknowledge of the gospel was clear, comprehensive, and profound; and\nshe displayed, during her residence with us, a spirit as free from\nthe ordinary imperfections of the human character as I have ever\nbeheld.\"\n\nI told him that I had been requested to ask if he would attend her\nfuneral.\n\nHe replied, \"Certainly, if the family wish it. I respected her--I\nloved her. I often retired from the labour and perplexity of study\nto pass an hour with her, and always found her conversation of\nsuch a spiritual, catholic, and heavenly cast, that I never failed\nto derive great benefit from it. Her conversation was remarkably\nsuggestive; she has helped me to many texts, and some of my most\nuseful sermons owe their origin to her observations and reflections.\nI was always delighted when I saw her in church, because I knew she\nwas praying in spirit for the success of my ministry.\"\n\nUpon the day appointed for her burial almost every inhabitant of\nthe village attended, to pay the tribute of respect to her memory.\nThe corpse was taken into the chapel, and after the minister had\nread the 15th chapter of 1st Corinthians, and delivered a very\nsimple impressive address, and offered up a solemn prayer to \"the\nGod of the spirits of all flesh,\" it was interred amidst the sighs\nand tears of a large concourse of spectators. Some were attired\nin full mourning, many were in half mourning, but the majority\nhad merely put on their Sabbath dress, being too poor to purchase\nclothes for the occasion. There was one female of the group, about\nthe age of thirty, with an infant in her arms, whose appearance\nand manners indicated the most poignant grief. During the time the\nminister was conducting the service, the tear fell silently on her\ncheek, but when the body was lowered into the grave she wept no\nmore, but appeared convulsed, and then advanced to the brink of the\ngrave, and after looking with intense eagerness for some seconds,\nshe exclaimed, \"Lover and friend hast thou taken from me,\" and fell\nsenseless on the ground. On inquiry, I found that she was the widow\nof a poor woodman, who was killed by the falling of a tree, and who\nwas left with three children, and had another born three months\nafter his father's decease. She lived about a quarter of a mile from\nthe cottage, and as Mrs. Lewellin used to pass by her residence\nwhen taking her morning walks, she often called to see her. On one\noccasion (the poor woman told me the next day), after giving her\nweekly donation, she gave her a tract, and requested her to read it.\n\"I did read it,\" said the weeping widow, \"but I could not understand\nit. When she called the next time she asked me if I had read it, and\nwhen I told her I could not understand it, she said, 'Read it again,\nbut before you read it the second time, pray to God for wisdom to\nenable you to understand it. He can give it, and he will give it if\nyou ask him.' I did so. The Lord has answered my prayer, and made\nme, I trust, wise unto salvation. But he has taken from me my guide,\nmy counsellor, and my friend. The death of my husband, which threw\nme on the charity of the parish, and deprived my dear babes of a\nfather, was a great trial, but it did not pierce my heart like this.\nI sometimes think my heart will break, then I go and pray to the\nLord for submission to his holy will, and I find myself better; but\nit will be a long time indeed before I shall be able to get over it.\"\n\nI mentioned this incident at the rectory, and then learned that\nthe poor widow was a regular attendant at the church, and was\nconsidered decidedly pious. Mrs. Stevens, having ascertained the\namount of her departed sister's weekly donation, engaged the rector\nto become her almoner, and the usual payment was continued. Mr.\nLewellin was so affected by this testimony to the memory of his\nmother, that he increased the sum; and before he left Stanmoor he\ncalled to see the bereaved sufferer, and gave her several articles\nof furniture, which once adorned the lonely cottage of her whose\nremains we had committed to the tomb.\n\nThe evening before our departure, I retraced the steps I had trodden\non my former visit to this village; and fixing on the same hour for\nmy ramble into the vale, I anticipated another interview with the\npious shepherd. As I walked on I heard the bleating of the sheep,\nand saw them at a distance ascending the steep path which led up to\ntheir fold in a neighbouring field. I heard also the barking of the\ndog; and soon afterwards the shepherd made his appearance, but I\nknew him not.\n\n\"Is the old man dead,\" I asked, \"who kept his flock here about six\nyears ago?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; he died about Christmas.\"\n\n\"Did you know him?\"\n\n\"He was my father; and a better father never lived.\"\n\n\"He was a religious man; was he not?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; and he died in the faith of Christ.\"\n\n\"I hope you are following in his steps.\"\n\n\"It is, Sir, my wish and my prayer to be a follower of them who\nthrough faith and patience inherit the promises.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the Sabbath morning after our return to Fairmount, the Rev. Mr.\nIngleby preached from Acts xxi. 16, \"An old disciple.\" We were much\npleased with his sermon, particularly with the following passage:\n\"When we see an old disciple moving amidst the activities and\namenities of life, we see a _living_ monument of the faithfulness\nand loving-kindness of God; and when we follow him to his grave,\nthough we may sorrow over his departure from amongst us, yet our\nsorrow is not to be without hope; he still lives, and lives in a\nnew form, amidst new scenes of beauty and of grandeur, and with\nnew associates; he is with Christ, assimilated to his likeness,\nbeholding his glory, and enjoying sweetest intercourse with him. His\ngain by his death, should reconcile us to our loss.\"\n\n\"The loss of my dear sister,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"is the most\nafflictive trial I have ever been called to endure. Memory carries\nme back to the days of childhood, to the riper years of age, and to\nthe associations with which my dear departed sister is inseparably\nentwined. But the pleasing charm soon vanishes, for she is gone.\"\n\n\"But, my dear,\" replied Mr. Stevens, \"though this affliction be\ngrievous, yet you might have been visited by one much more severe.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know it. I might have lost you. That would have been a\nmore overwhelming one. I wish to be resigned--it is my constant\nprayer--and I hope that I do not cherish any murmuring disposition,\nbut I cannot help feeling; yet I fear lest I should indulge my\nmourning to an excess.\"\n\n\"Excess of grief, my dear, is to be guarded against, as it unhinges\nthe mind, induces a melancholy cast of temper, and dispossesses\ncomforts which are still preserved, of their power to interest and\ndelight. Mourn you may, but you must not mourn as one 'who has no\nhope.' For hope, even the sweetest hope that can lodge in the human\nheart, is yours. Death has merely separated you for a season, he has\nnot destroyed your union. You now live apart, but no impassable gulf\nlies between you--only a narrow grave. Let your mourning, therefore,\nbe moderate and submissive.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Mrs. Stevens replied, as her countenance began to assume\nits former cheerfulness, which had vanished from the moment the\nfirst intelligence of her sister's illness was received, \"my sister\nlives--she lives a purer and a happier life than I ever expect to\nlive, till I cease to breathe this vital air--she now sees the King\nin his beauty--she now unites with all the redeemed in singing,\n'Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own\nblood.' She is, and ever will be with the Lord. These words comfort\nme.\"\n\n\"Then let _me_ hear the words which comfort you,\" said Mr. Lewellin,\nwho caught this latter sentence as he entered the parlour, \"as they\nmay serve to comfort me. My heart never throbbed as it has done\nsince I lost my mother--a loss I have been anticipating for years,\nbut I now find that it is more desolating than I ever anticipated.\"\n\n\"It is an event,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"which has brought along with\nit many alleviating circumstances. She died in peace. No dubious\nuncertainty distracted her, no dread forebodings appalled her, no\ntorturing anxieties for those she loved agitated her breast. Hers\nwas an enviable death.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"her sun did not go down till the evening;\nand even then it was light. She told me that for several days before\nher last illness she suffered great mental perplexity and horror,\nthat she not only doubted her personal piety, but the truth of\nrevelation. She was driven almost to a state of despair; and on the\nSabbath morning, when she left her cottage for the house of prayer,\nshe resolved not to receive the memorials of the Saviour's death.\nThe text from which the Rev. Mr. Bates preached, was taken from\nJudges viii. 4, 'Faint, yet pursuing.' There was one paragraph in\nthe sermon which gave her sweet relief. It was to this effect: 'The\nmost favoured servants of the Lord are liable to momentary seasons\nof suspicion and depression; and some have been left for days, and\nsome for months, not only without consolation, but even without\nhope. But shall we say that as soon as they lose their enjoyments\nthey make a shipwreck of their faith? Shall we say that the design\nof God--the practical efficacy of the atonement--the continual\nindwelling of the Holy Spirit--depend on the ever fluctuating\nand ever varying temperament and feelings of the mind, which is\nsometimes so perplexed and distracted by unknown causes, as to\nbe incapable of _believing_ its own faith, or deriving felicity\nfrom its own sources of blessedness? Oh! no. There are periods\nin the mysterious life of an heir of salvation when he is left\nwithout comfort, if not without hope, and then comes on the hour\nand the power of darkness; but this singular dispensation does not\ndisinherit him, or leave him an orphan, in a state of privation and\nabandonment; neither does it destroy the vitality of his religious\nprinciples, but it is intended to let him feel a portion of that\nmisery which he deserves, but from which he is delivered through the\nblood of the Lamb.'\"\n\n\"Had my sister left us under this mental gloom, I should have had no\ndoubt,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"of her present happiness; but it would\nhave been an additional cause of grief.\"\n\n\"Sometimes,\" I observed, \"it pleases God to leave his most eminent\nservants without any strong consolation in their last hours; and\nsometimes he elevates them to a participation of the felicity\nof heaven, before he permits them to enter. Hence there is no\nundeviating uniformity in his procedure; but yet he keeps our\npractical good in view by all the dispensations of his will. When I\nsee a holy man overwhelmed with sorrow on the eve of his departure,\nI am convinced there is no absolute, no meritorious connection\nbetween an exemplary life and a triumphant death. This conviction,\ncoming through such a medium, destroys all self-complacency, and\nimpels me to place all my dependence for salvation on Jesus Christ.\nBut when I see a sinner of like passions and infirmities with\nmyself--one who has wept over defects and transgressions similar to\nmy own--rising above fear, eagerly and yet submissively anticipating\nhis own dissolution, giving utterance to thoughts and feelings more\nnearly allied to the glory and purity of the heavenly state than to\nthe dark obscurity of the present, I feel a degree of gratitude to\nthe Saviour for making manifest life and immortality, which, for its\nfull expression, I must wait till I see him as he is, and am made\nlike unto him.\"\n\n\"The death of our friends,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"is always an\nafflictive event, but it is sometimes a salutary one. It reminds\nus of our mortality, and brings before our imagination the unseen\nrealities of an eternal world. It teaches us what shadows we are,\nand what shadows we are pursuing:--\n\n    'Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud,\n    To damp our brainless ardours; and abate\n    That glare of life, which often blinds the wise.\n    Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth\n    Our rugged pass to death; to break those bars\n    Of terror and abhorrence nature throws\n    'Cross our obstructed way; and thus to make\n    _Welcome_, as _safe_, our port from ev'ry storm.'\"\n\n\"To repine,\" I observed, \"under any of the dispensations of\nProvidence, would be to display a temper which no Christian should\ncherish; but to repine at the grave of a pious friend, discovers\nnot only a spirit of hostility to the Divine will, but an unsubdued\nselfishness, which would deprive another of happiness, merely to\naugment our own.\"\n\n\"Resignation is our duty, and this brings with it its own reward;\nyet it is a disposition which does not spring up spontaneously in\nthe heart. It is one of those good gifts which cometh from above;\nbut, like every other disposition which claims the same origin,\nit must be exercised before it can become _perfect_; and when\nperfected, or when approaching near perfection, it can rejoice in\ntribulations also.\"\n\n\n\n\nINTEMPERATE ZEAL.\n\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Roscoe and his lady, who had not been at the mansion\nfor several years, now intimated their intention to pay a visit to\ntheir brother. He was the youngest son of the family, and at an\nearly age had decided for the church, as a profession more easy,\nif not so lucrative as some others. Having finished his career at\nOxford, where he was more distinguished for his love of pleasure\nthan regard for academical honours, he obtained ordination, and\nsettled in a parish in Somersetshire. For nearly fifteen years he\nremained unmarried, devoting himself to a life of pleasure, and\npaying but little attention to the claims of his parishioners.\nThe dignity of the priest was lowered by the imperfections of the\nman, and the church was forsaken for the village chapel. At length\nhe was, by the remonstrances of his friends, induced to pursue a\ncourse more becoming the sanctity of his office; he withdrew from\nhis former companions, abandoned the sports of the field and of the\ngaming table, and turned the torrent of his displeasure against\nthose who had separated themselves from the church, on account of\nhis former irregularities. He had reached the age of forty when he\nmarried the eldest daughter of a neighbouring magistrate, a lady\ndistinguished by superior intelligence, and a most catholic spirit.\nThey had two children, who both died in infancy. So deeply wounded\nwas the heart of the mother by these bereavements, that she long\nabandoned herself to the agonies of grief; and though time had now\nremoved its poignancy, yet she often alluded to her babes and their\nearly death, in a tone and manner which proved that they still lived\nin her fond remembrance.\n\nTheir arrival at their brother's mansion had been expected for\nseveral days, and every preparation was made to render their visit\npleasant and profitable. At length they came; and though the Rev.\nMr. Roscoe was a reformed man, yet he discovered no signs of being\na spiritual one. He was become more moral in his habits, but less\ntolerant in spirit; and soon convinced his brother and his niece\nthat \"the things which are seen and temporal\" had a more powerful\nascendency over him than those \"which are unseen and eternal.\" He\ndeclined the invitation of the Rev. Mr. Cole, to preach on the\nfollowing Sabbath, as he was too much fatigued by his journey to\ndo duty; but consented to accompany the family to church. It was\na beautiful morning, still and serene; no sound was heard but the\nmelody of the birds, and the \"church-going bell.\" Mr. Cole read\nthe Liturgy in his usual heavy, monotonous tone, which was no less\noffensive to the ear, than a certain air of carelessness which hung\nover his manner was repulsive of devotional feeling. He announced\nhis text in an elevated pitch of voice, which immediately arrested\nthe attention of his congregation. \"The subject,\" he remarked,\n\"which I shall submit to you this morning, is taken from the tenth\nchapter of St. Paul the apostle's Epistle to the Romans, and the\nsecond verse:--'For I bear them record that they have a zeal of God,\nbut not according to knowledge.'\"\n\nHe began by declaiming against the spirit and the conduct of the\nancient Pharisees, who were, he asserted, the troublers of the\nchurch in a former age; and then expressed his deep regret that\nthe sect was not yet become extinct, but was even at this moment\naugmenting its numbers, and threatening, by its untempered zeal,\nand its invincible ignorance, to tarnish the lustre and destroy\nthe foundation of the church which is fostering them in her bosom.\n\"If,\" said he, \"we run a comparison between the modern Calvinists,\nwho unhappily stand connected with our venerable Establishment--the\nadmiration and envy of the world--and the ancient Pharisees, we\nshall find that they bear a close resemblance to each other; and\nthough a good man will pause before he gathers on his lips the\ndenunciations of inspired writ, yet a high sense of duty compels me\nto say that the woes which our Saviour uttered against the latter,\nstand directly pointed against the former. The ancient Pharisees set\naside the weightier matters of the law to attend to the ceremonials\nof religion; they prescribed no bounds to their proselyting spirit,\nfor they would encompass sea and land to gain _even one_ proselyte;\nand when they had gained him, our Saviour says that they made him\ntwofold more a child of hell than themselves, though they made\nbolder and higher pretensions to religion than any other sect.\nAnd who, when looking at this picture of the ancient Pharisees,\ndoes not recognize the portrait of our modern Calvinists?--'For I\nbear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according\nto knowledge.' But the modern Calvinists conduct themselves with\nless reverence for the authority of our church, than the Pharisees\ndiscovered for the authority of theirs; for they will dare to\nreject some of our established doctrines, and explain away the\nimport of some of our long-settled rites and sacraments.\"\n\nHe then went on to prove, by quotations from the fathers and the\nBook of Common Prayer, that baptismal regeneration is the only\nregeneration which is necessary or possible; and positively asserted\nthat the conversion of persons who are already members of the\napostolic Church of England, is a mere fiction of modern fanaticism.\n\n\"These Calvinistic clergy,\" he added, \"declaim against good works,\nand exalt a dogmatic belief in certain crude opinions, as the only\nnecessary condition on which sinners can obtain the forgiveness\nof Almighty God.\" Then he attempted to prove that the people must\nnecessarily become corrupt, among whom salvation is proclaimed,\nwithout requiring, on their part, good works as the essential\ncondition of its bestowment.\n\n\"Look, my hearers,\" he exclaimed, \"on the destructive tendency\nof their style of preaching. As soon as the officiating priest\nopens his lips and gives utterance to his sentiments, there is an\ninstantaneous commotion in his congregation. Those who lived in\npeace are split into divisions, and the family or the village which\nheld the unity of the faith, as propounded by our pure apostolic\nchurch, suddenly becomes the arena of religious disputations and\nwrangling, and the temple of peace and unity becomes a Babel of\nconfusion and discord.\n\n\"Indeed, in _some instances_, children will rise up in rebellion\nagainst the authority of their parents, till the parents, wearied by\ntheir obstinacy, or subdued by their importunity, imbibe the same\nfatal opinions, that they may regain their domestic peace.\n\n\"These priests are zealous, and they pretend that they have a\nzeal of God; but it is the fire and the smoke, whose effect is to\ndarken and to desolate, rather than that clear and radiant light\nwhich warms while it illumines, and gives a verdant bloom to every\nspringing blade and opening bud, while it directs the passenger\nonwards on his journey. In a word, the labours of these men,\nwherever they are successful (and such is the fatality attending\nthem that they are always successful), tend to give a retrograde\nmovement to our social habits and enjoyments, and to carry us back\nto the gloomy times of the Commonwealth, when the Puritanical\ndevotee was seen weeping between the porch and the altar, but never\nindulging himself in the innocent recreations of life.\n\n\"In fine, I feel myself compelled once more to warn you against\ntheir doctrines, as contrary to the doctrines of our incomparable\nprayer-book; to warn you against associating with them, or hearing\nthem preach, as you may be entangled by their sophistry before\nyou are aware, and while you will deplore, in common with myself\nand others, their existence within the pale of our pure apostolic\nchurch, you will endeavour, by your influence and your example, to\ncheck the progress of the moral contagion which they have introduced\namong us. That the common people, who know not the Scriptures, and\nwho despise the authority of their authorized teachers, should\nembrace the Calvinistic doctrines, is not surprising, because they\ngive them a complete indemnity against every species of crime,\nbut that any of the well-educated and intelligent members of\nsociety--any who have not sacrificed their virtue nor lost their\ntaste--should feel a predilection for them, is one of those moral\nmysteries which can be accounted for only from one of two causes--a\npartial derangement of intellect, or the magic charm of enthusiasm.\n\n\"To conclude: Are they zealous in propagating their doctrines?\nbe you zealous in opposing them; are they zealous in gaining\nproselytes? be you zealous in reclaiming them; are they zealous in\nputting an end to all the innocent enjoyments of social life? do you\ndisplay a superior degree of zeal in preventing such a fatal evil,\nthat we may enjoy life as we have been accustomed to enjoy it in our\nsocial circles, and thus prove to a sceptical and a fanatical age,\nthat we can be religious without being melancholy or morose, and fit\nourselves for the happiness of a future world without sacrificing\nthe pleasures of the present.\"\n\nWhen the service was concluded, the Roscoes walked home together,\nbut no one made any reference to the sermon, as all felt convinced\nthat it was directed against Mr. Roscoe, who appeared, during\nthe whole of the afternoon, unusually reserved. This reserve was\nregarded by some of the family as a decisive evidence that the\nsermon had produced its intended effect; and the polite and friendly\nmanner in which he received the Rev. Mr. Cole, who called in the\nevening, seemed to confirm this opinion. Next morning, as they sat\nat breakfast, the Rev. Mr. Roscoe said that he had anticipated\ngreat pleasure from his visit, but, he added, \"I certainly did not\nanticipate the feast of delight which I enjoyed yesterday. Mr. Cole\nsurpassed himself. I think he gave us a correct portraiture of\nmodern Calvinism. O, it is a gloomy system of religion! just suited\nfor fanatics or enthusiasts. Don't you think Mr. Cole a very clever\nand a very intelligent man?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Mr. Roscoe, \"I think him clever and intelligent,\nand a man of rather extensive reading. We have often passed many\npleasant evenings together in discussing literary and scientific\nquestions, and I have uniformly admired his dexterity in reasoning,\nand the aptness of his illustrations; but, in my opinion, something\nmore than learning and intelligence is necessary to enable a person\nto understand the scheme of salvation which is contained in the\nScriptures.\"\n\n\"But I presume you do not intend, like our modern fanatics, to\ndepreciate learning and intelligence?\"\n\n\"No; I think a Christian minister cannot be too learned nor too\nintelligent, but learned men do not always understand the things of\nthe Spirit of God, and some of the most intelligent have been known\nto imbibe the most erroneous opinions. This, I suppose, you will\nnot deny; does it not then necessarily follow that something more\nthan learning and intelligence is requisite to enable a person to\nunderstand the Scriptures?\"\n\n\"O! I see you have imbibed one of the notions of our modern\nfanatics. And is it possible that you can give up your understanding\nto the dominion of fanaticism, which avows sentiments not less\nderogatory to the dignity of man, than its unintelligible jargon is\noffensive to pure taste? They say that no one can understand the\ngospel unless he is taught by the Spirit of God. They think we must\nbe inspired to enable us to understand the Scriptures, which were\ngiven by Divine inspiration, and which are able of themselves to\nmake us wise unto salvation.\"\n\n\"You have made several allusions to modern fanatics, and, from your\nmode of expression, I conclude that you hold them in contempt.\"\n\n\"In sovereign contempt. They are the troublers of the church, and I\nwish it were in my power to expel them.\"\n\n\"But if you were to expel all from the church who believe in the\nnecessity of a Divine illumination to enable us to understand the\nScriptures, you would retain none but those who disbelieve her\ndoctrines. In the homily on reading the Holy Scriptures you will\nfind the following passage: 'And in reading of God's Word he not\nalways most profiteth that is most ready in the turning of the\nbook, or in saying of it without the book, but he that is most\nturned into it, that is, the most inspired with the Holy Ghost.'\nAnd is there not, through the whole of the public service of our\nchurch, a constant reference to the Holy Spirit as the agent by whom\nthe ignorant are instructed, the impure cleansed, and the morally\nwretched consoled and made happy? Read the collect for Whitsunday:\n'God, who as at this time didst teach the hearts of thy faithful\npeople by the sending to them the light of thy Holy Spirit, grant\nus, by the same Spirit, to have a right judgment in all things,\nand evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort, through the merits of\nChrist Jesus our Saviour.' And if you turn to the service which\nwas read when you entered into priest's orders, you will find the\nfollowing verse, which breathes a language no less fervent than\nscriptural:--\n\n    'Come, Holy Ghost! our souls inspire,\n    And lighten with celestial fire;\n    Thy blessed unction from above\n    Is comfort, life, and fire of love;\n    Enable with perpetual light\n    The dulness of our blinded sight.'\n\nCan language more clearly or more forcibly express the necessity of\na Divine influence to aid us to understand the meaning of the Word\nof God? And ought those to be stigmatized as fanatics, and expelled\nfrom the church, who _actually_ believe their own recorded faith?\nThat would be an act of injustice no less flagrant than if a ruler\nwere to banish the faithful and loyal subject, while the convicted\ntraitor is permitted to enjoy the protection of the law and the\nemoluments of office.\"\n\n\"But you will admit that there are fanatics in the church, who hold\nsome strange opinions, which do essential injury to society?\"\n\n\"I admit that there are men who are called fanatics by those who do\nnot understand the doctrines of their own church. I once regarded\nevery zealous, and spiritual, and useful clergyman as a fanatic;\nbut, like others, I affixed no definite meaning to the epithet\nwhich I employed. I found the word already coined, and I used it;\nbut I have since discovered its spurious qualities, and, as far as\nmy influence extends, I will prevent its circulation. We ought not\nto stigmatize those who differ from us. If we think them wrong, we\nought to try to reclaim them, but in doing so we should make no\nsacrifice of the spirit of the Christian, or the courtesy of the\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"Then I presume you did not approve of the sermon which you heard\nyesterday?\"\n\n\"I did not approve of the _temper_ which Mr. Cole displayed. The\npulpit is a sacred place, and he who occupies it should always bear\na near resemblance _in spirit_, if he cannot in manner, to the\nPrince of Peace. The weapons of the Christian minister never do any\nexecution except they are spiritual, and then they become mighty,\nthrough God, to the pulling down of the strongholds of error, and\ndestroying the barriers which prejudice has raised against the\nreception of the truth, and then the mind willingly submits to its\nauthority.\"\n\n\"I must confess that he was rather severe, perhaps too much so for\nthe sanctity of the pulpit; but the severity of his spirit did not\nweaken the force of his arguments.\"\n\n\"But a bad spirit will often induce a wavering hearer to suspect\nthat the arguments are defective. An affectionate manner insinuates\nitself into the heart, renders it soft and pliable, and disposes\nit to imbibe the sentiments and follow the impulse of the speaker.\nWhoever has attended to the effect of addresses from the pulpit,\nmust have perceived how much of their impression depends upon\nthis quality. But, instead of being cool and dispassionate in\nhis reasoning, and leading on the congregation from one stage of\nconviction to another, by a regular process of proof, treating his\nerring opponent as a fond parent treats a disobedient child, with\naffection, even while a paramount regard for his welfare urges to\ncorrection, Mr. Cole advanced with impetuosity into the heat of\nthe debate, dogmatized when he ought to have argued, instituted\ninvidious comparisons when he ought to have made an effort to\nconciliate prejudices, denounced when he ought to have entreated,\nand certainly left an impression on my mind that the display\nI witnessed yesterday had little of the loving temper of pure\nChristianity.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"I really thought, from the friendly manner\nin which you received Mr. Cole last evening, that his discourse in\nthe morning had given you as much pleasure as it gave us. Indeed, I\ndo not think that his spirit was bad; he spoke certainly with more\nwarmth than usual, but then he was anxious to convince you, I have\nno doubt, of the errors which you have recently imbibed, and to warn\nyou of their dangerous tendency.\"\n\n\"If Mr. Cole displayed an antichristian temper in the pulpit, that\nis no reason why I should behave unlike a gentleman in the parlour.\nI shall always be glad to see him, and will treat him with the\nrespect which is due to his character and his office. If he thinks\nI have imbibed any erroneous opinions, I shall have no objection to\ngive him an opportunity of correcting them; but if he calculated on\ndisturbing my belief in the doctrines of the Scriptures and of our\nchurch, which I have recently embraced, he, by his mode of attack\nyesterday, supplied a fresh proof of the adage, _that intolerance\ndefeats its own purpose_, as I am, if possible, more deeply\nconvinced of their truth and importance than I was before I heard\nhis sermon.\"\n\n\"I had heard,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"a great deal about Mr. Cole\nbefore I left home, of his learning, and of his eloquence, and I\nwent to church yesterday with very high expectations; but I was\nsadly disappointed. I listened to his sermon with great attention,\nbut I did not like either the sentiments, or the spirit, or the\ndesign of the sermon. He was, when in the pulpit, more like a\ngladiator aiming a deadly thrust at some living opponent, than a\nminister of Jesus Christ preaching the truth in love. It certainly,\nbut no thanks to him, has put some new thoughts into my heart, which\nI feel to be weighty and important, but which at present exist there\nin a very wild and incoherent state.\"\n\n\"I am happy to hear you say so, dear aunt,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"as\nthe incipient thoughts of a spirit, on entering and passing through\nthe great renovating process of Divine grace, are usually wild and\nincoherent; but, in a short time, they are always reduced to obvious\nand intelligible order.\"\n\n\"I don't quite understand you, my dear.\"\n\n\"But you will soon, dear aunt. The roll of Divine truth opens\ngradually, and what at first is obscure and indistinct, becomes,\nin the progressive unfolding, clear, intelligible, and perceptibly\nharmonious; and then the comprehension of the wondrous scheme of\nhuman redemption and salvation, against which we had yesterday\nmorning such a tirade of misrepresentation and abuse, is an easy,\nand, I may add, a necessary action of the mind. The prophet Hosea,\nspeaking under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, says to the now\nthinking inquirer, 'Then shall you know, if you follow on to know\nthe Lord.'\"\n\n\n\n\nBAPTISMAL REGENERATION A FICTION.\n\n\nThe right of private judgment on every question which stands\nconnected with the present or future happiness of man, is an\nunalienable privilege. The exercise of this right has been, and\nstill is, proscribed by the genius of superstition; but the spirit\nof Christianity not only sanctions but establishes it; and we are\ncommanded to bring every opinion which may be submitted to us to the\ntest of a close and severe examination. We are not to be controlled\nor governed by the authority of men of learning, nor are we to\nreceive a doctrine as true, because it bears the marks of antiquity.\n\nThe priests of the Romish Church lay claim to infallibility; but\nthis extraordinary endowment is withheld from the laity, who are\ncommanded to receive, most implicitly, everything which they\nadvance, however repugnant to reason, or contrary to the Scriptures.\nBut this prostration of the understanding before the majesty of\nthe priesthood, and this tame submission to all the doctrines and\nprecepts which they may enforce, is an act which no intelligent\nProtestant can perform.\n\nIf, then, we refuse to surrender the government of our reason\nto the absolute authority of the ministers of one church, which\narrogates to itself the attribute of infallibility, shall we do it\nto those of another, which makes no such lofty pretensions? We ought\nunquestionably to hold in high estimation those who administer to us\nthe word of life; but as they are men encompassed with infirmities,\noften differing from each other on the most essential articles of\nthe Christian faith, and liable to err in common with ourselves, it\nis no less our duty than our privilege to compare what they advance\nfrom the pulpit or from the press with the testimony of the Bible.\nDid not Jesus Christ urge his hearers to search the Scriptures? and\nwhen the apostle Paul wrote to the church at Corinth, he employed\nthese words:--\"I speak as to wise men; judge ye what I say.\"\n\nThere is too much reason to fear, that while we boast of our freedom\nfrom the spiritual dominion under which our forefathers groaned\nbefore the Reformation, we are getting back into a state of bondage,\nby voluntarily and pertinaciously adhering to ancient opinions on\nreligious subjects without investigating them; and hence, so few\namong us are capable of distinguishing truth from error. Indeed,\nso unpopular is the calm investigation of religious truth become\namong a certain class of Christians, that it is deprecated as one\nof the early symptoms of fanaticism. They will go to church, utter\ntheir solemn responses, and listen to the sermon; but to compare the\nsentiments of the sermon with the language of the Scripture, to see\nif there be a strict accordance between what they hear and what they\nread, or ought to read, is a practice which many would condemn, and\nwhich comparatively few will adopt. Is it then surprising that we\nmeet with so many who are as ignorant of the Scriptures and of the\narticles of their own church as they are of the Koran of Mahomet or\nthe Shasters of the Hindoos? Nor is this charge directed exclusively\nagainst the lower orders of society, for it is equally applicable\nto those who occupy high places in the intellectual, social, and\nliterary world.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the evening, as the ladies of the family were attending to their\nneedle-work, the Rev. Mr. Roscoe made an allusion to the sermon\nwhich Mr. Cole delivered on the preceding Sabbath, and said, that\nthough the spirit which he displayed might be objected to, and some\nof his arguments might be deemed inconclusive, yet he decidedly\nagreed with him on the subject of baptismal regeneration. He went\non to say--\"I know that the evangelical clergy maintain that every\nperson, even the most moral and virtuous, must undergo an internal\nchange before they can be fitted for the kingdom of heaven; but, as\nMr. Cole very judiciously observed, this is one of the wild notions\nwhich spring out of the luxuriance of an enthusiastic imagination,\nrather than out of the soil of a matured judgment.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But do you not believe in the necessity of\nregeneration?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, but I believe that no other than baptismal\nregeneration _is either necessary, or even possible_ in this world.\nWe are born[12] anew in baptism, and in baptism exclusively. As\nyou are fond of appealing to the authority of our church on the\ndisputable points of religion, you will allow me the same privilege.\nWhen the child is baptized, the priest is taught to say, 'Seeing\nnow, dearly beloved brethren, that this child is regenerate, and\ngrafted into the body of Christ's church, let us give thanks to\nAlmighty God for these benefits, and with one accord make our\nprayers unto him, that this child may lead the rest of his life\naccording to this beginning.' Then follows this solemn form of\nthanksgiving and prayer, which the priest is required to offer to\nAlmighty God: 'We yield Thee hearty thanks, most merciful Father,\nthat it hath pleased Thee to regenerate this infant with thy Holy\nSpirit, to receive him for thine own child by adoption, and to\nincorporate him into thy holy church; and humbly we beseech Thee to\ngrant that he, being dead unto sin, and living unto righteousness,\nand being buried with Christ in his death, may crucify the old man,\nand utterly abolish the whole body of sin; and that as he is made\n_partaker_ of the death of thy Son, he may also be _partaker_ of his\nresurrection: so that finally, with the residue of the holy church,\nhe may be an inheritor of thine everlasting kingdom, through Christ\nJesus our Lord.' And does not the catechism of our church teach the\nchild to say, in answer to the question, '_Who gave you this name?_'\n'My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism, wherein I was made a\nmember of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of\nheaven?' What language can more plainly or unequivocally prove that\nbaptism is regeneration; and that the child who is thus regenerated\nby baptism is made a partaker of the death of Christ, a child of\nGod, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven? And as regeneration\ncan take place _only once, and does take place in baptism_, those\nwho imbibe the modern notions on this subject are convicted of error\nby the authority of the church to whose decision they so often\nappeal.\"\n\n  [12] Some of the Tractarians speak in more guarded, yet in more\n  ambiguous terms, on the regenerating power of baptism; but the\n  majority of them entertain the belief which is expressed by the\n  Rev. W. J. E. Bennett, in the following quotation from one of the\n  last sermons he preached at St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, _see_ page\n  193:--\"Here is a great mystery; that by water in holy baptism is\n  given a regenerating and life-creating grace--that by water we\n  go down into the font foul and leprous; by grace we rise pure,\n  spotless, and sound--that by water we go down into the font dead\n  in trespasses and sins; by grace we rise up from the font alive in\n  Christ.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I grant that the popular construction of the\npassages which you have quoted supports your opinion, and if a\nsimilar phraseology of speech were employed by the writers of the\nNew Testament, I should not hesitate to agree with you; but I do\nnot find such language in any part of the New Testament. I think\nthat the Liturgy and Articles are to be brought to the test of the\nScriptures, and not the Scriptures to that of the Liturgy. The\nlatter, though the first of human compositions, is nevertheless of\nhuman authority; the former is given by the inspiration of God.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I admit that the Liturgy and the Articles of\nour church are human compositions, and that they possess no weight\nof authority unless they are in strict accordance with holy writ:\nbut do not the sacred writers in the most positive terms assert that\nbaptism is regeneration? Is not the following passage conclusive:\n'But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man\nappeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but\naccording to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration,\nand renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he shed on us abundantly\nthrough Jesus Christ our Saviour; that being justified by his grace,\nwe should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life'\"\n(Titus iii. 4-7).\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This passage most certainly associates baptism and\nregeneration together; but it does not say that we are _regenerated\nby baptism_. The washing of regeneration, or baptism, is the mere\nexternal sign of that moral purity which is the effect of the\nrenewing of the Holy Ghost. And that this is the meaning of the\npassage, I appeal to your good sense; for, if we are regenerated by\nbaptism, where is the necessity of the renewing of the Holy Ghost?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I do not mean that baptism itself regenerates\nus, but that the Holy Spirit regenerates us when we are receiving\nthe sacrament.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Simon Magus was one of the first converts to\nChristianity; he was baptized by Philip, but he was not regenerated\nby the Holy Spirit. He had been baptized, but he still remained\nunholy, and 'in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of\niniquity.' This simple fact proves that baptism is not regeneration,\nunless you are prepared to admit that a regenerate person may be\n'in the gall of bitterness, and bond of iniquity;' and if so, what\nspiritual advantage does he derive from his regeneration? If by\nbaptism Simon Magus was made a child of God, and an inheritor of the\nkingdom of heaven, it is evident that he required some moral change\nafter this, as we are expressly informed that his heart was not\nright in the sight of God, and that he had no part nor lot in any of\nthe gifts of the Holy Spirit.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I candidly confess that this case of Simon\nMagus seems to militate against the doctrine of baptismal\nregeneration; or, at any rate, it clogs it with difficulties which\nare not easily overcome.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"So I think, and so I should imagine every\nperson of common sense would think. In my opinion, it settles the\nquestion.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But there are other difficulties which press\nupon the doctrine, which seem to me insuperable. If baptismal\nregeneration be the only regeneration possible in this world, and no\none can enter into the kingdom of heaven except he be regenerated by\nwater, what will become of those children who die unbaptized? Shall\nwe consign all the offspring of the Friends and of the Baptists to\na state of future misery, and nearly all the children of Scotland,\nand of those of our own church, who die before the ceremony can be\nperformed; shall we plunge them, in fact, into hell, with the devil\nand his angels, when we know they have committed no actual sin?\nWhat is this but representing the mothers of earth bringing forth\nchildren to people the infernal regions. Most horrible! Indeed,\nrather than embrace a doctrine that entails after it such fearful\nconsequences, I could consent to close my Bible, as a revelation of\nwrath rather than of mercy.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But I do not see that this consequence\nnecessarily follows; because Almighty God may of his goodness take\nthese children to heaven, though they may not have been baptized.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"What! if baptism be regeneration. Are not children\nconceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity? Do they not partake of\nour impurity, and can we suppose that they will carry a depraved\nnature with them into heaven? If so, evil abounds there no less\nthan here; and all the anticipations which we indulge of attaining\na state of unsullied purity and bliss after the close of life, must\nbe regarded as the illusions of the fancy:--No, their moral nature\nmust be changed; and if they are not baptized, it must be changed\nby the renewing of the Holy Spirit, without the external ceremony,\nwhich proves that regeneration is essentially different and distinct\nfrom baptism. I will give you a quotation from the pen of an\nelegant writer, which will, I think, decide the question:--'But\nthat baptism is not regeneration, is placed beyond all reasonable\ndebate by the following declarations of St. Paul: \"I thank God that\nI baptized none of you but Crispus and Gaius. For Christ sent me\nnot to baptize, but to preach the gospel: not with wisdom of words,\nlest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect\" (1 Cor. i.\n14, 17). Nothing is more certain than that, if baptism insures or\nproves regeneration, Paul, who so ardently desired the salvation\nof mankind, and wished to become, as extensively as possible, the\ninstrument of their salvation, could not thank God that he baptized\nnone of the Corinthians but Gaius, Crispus, and the household of\nStephanus. To him it would comparatively have been a matter of\nindifference whether they accused him of baptizing in his own name\nor not. Of what consequence could the clamour, the disputes, or the\ndivisions be, which might arise about this subject, compared, on the\none hand, with the salvation, and on the other with the perdition of\nthe Corinthians? Instead of thanking God in this manner, he would\nhave baptized every Corinthian who would have permitted him; and,\nlike a Romish missionary, have compelled crowds and hosts to the\nstreams and to the rivers in the neighbourhood, that they might\nreceive the ordinance at his hands. With still less propriety could\nhe say, if baptism were the means of regeneration, especially if it\ninsured or proved it, that Christ sent him not to baptize, but to\npreach the gospel. Christ, as He himself hath told us, sent St. Paul\nto the Gentiles and to the Corinthians, as well as other Gentiles,\n_to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan\nunto God_. In other words, Christ sent St. Paul to the Gentiles\nto accomplish their regeneration. But if baptism be the means of\nregeneration, or be accompanied by it, then Christ actually sent him\nto baptize, in direct contradiction to the passage just now quoted.\nFrom both these passages it is evident that baptism neither insures\nnor proves regeneration, unless we believe that the gratitude of the\nmost zealous apostle rose in intensity in proportion as he failed in\naccomplishing the design of his mission.'\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe_ (addressing her husband).--\"I think you must now\ngive up the point; for who can fairly stand against such plain and\npowerful arguments?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But the doctrine is no less dangerous than\nanti-scriptural; and when we reflect on the tendency which the human\nmind discovers to derive consolation from any source of relief,\nhowever vague or imaginary, we cannot evince too much ardour in\nexploding the fatal delusion. In this country there are multitudes\nof baptized persons who discover, at no period of their life, any\nother proofs that they have been regenerated than what the parish\nregister supplies. If these persons, who have grown up in a state\nof ignorance of Christianity, corrupt in morals and in manners, are\ntold by their clergyman that when they were baptized they were made\ninheritors of the kingdom of heaven, will they not easily lull the\ndisquietude of their consciences to sleep, and flatter themselves\nwith the hope of final salvation, even while they continue the\nservants, if not the slaves of sin? Will they, if warned to flee\nfrom the wrath to come, apprehend any danger, seeing they are taught\nto believe that they are already the children of God? O fatal\ndelusion! a delusion no less dangerous to the morals than it is to\nthe final happiness of man, because it leads him to ascribe the\norigin of his religious character to a ceremonial act performed on\nhim at a period when he knew it not, rather than to his repentance\ntowards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; and teaches him that\nhe may become a glorified spirit in another world, even though he\nlives and he is a sceptic or a blasphemer. Thus a little cold water\ntaken from a font, and falling from the holy hands of a regularly\nordained priest, imparts such a mysterious sanctity to the subject\nwhom it touches, as to render any moral or spiritual meetness for\nthe inheritance of the saints in light quite unnecessary. _How\nwonderful!_\"\n\nIt was amusing to watch the movements of Mrs. John Roscoe\nduring these discussions, and gratifying to hear her occasional\nobservations. She would sit sometimes as patient as a judge when\nlistening to the evidence on some grave charge against a prisoner\nat the bar, and at other times she was as restless and fidgety as a\njuryman anxious to deliver the verdict, that he might get home to\nhis dinner as quickly as possible. In general, she held a very tight\nrein over her excursive spirit, out of respect to the two principal\ndisputants; but occasionally it would drop from her grasp, and then\nshe was off at a tangent.\n\n\"I think,\" said she, \"a man's bump of credulity must be larger than\nhis head who would tell me, with decorous gravity, that he really\nhas faith to believe such an ecclesiastical dogma.\"\n\nThis remark somewhat disconcerted, though it did not displease her\nhusband, who rather liked to see her display her cleverness, but he\nsoon recovered himself, and addressing his brother, he said:--\n\n\"But these are the consequences which _you_ deduce from the\ndoctrine, rather than consequences which necessarily follow from its\nadmission. When the child is baptized we pray that he may _lead the\nrest of his life according to this beginning_; which presupposes the\npossibility that he may not. If he do not, he forfeits his baptismal\nrights, and relapses into a state of condemnation and guilt.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then I presume that, by his relapse into a state\nof condemnation and guilt, he places himself in a moral condition\nsimilar to the condition in which he would have stood if he had\nnever been baptized?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Exactly so.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"As a state of guilt and condemnation implies, on the\npart of man, depravity and alienation from God, must he not undergo\nsome _moral change_ in his disposition, his principles, and his\ntaste, before he can loathe himself on account of his impurities, or\nbe fitted to dwell in the immediate presence of a holy God; as we\nread that 'without holiness no man shall see the Lord?'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Certainly; he must be made good and virtuous\nbefore he can be admitted into heaven.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But if he were regenerated when he was baptized, and\nthere is no _other regeneration possible in this world_, you see the\ndilemma in which you place a man who by transgression forfeits his\nbaptismal rights.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"What dilemma?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, in despair. You say he needs a moral change to\nfit him for heaven; but as that change cannot be produced without\nbaptism--_and he has undergone the ceremony, which cannot be\nrepeated_--you place him under the ban of reprobation, unless you\nadopt the only alternative which remains for you, that of admitting\nhim to heaven in his depraved state. Mr. Cole, in his sermon, was\nvery severe on the evangelical clergy for two things; he asserted\nthat, by their awful strain of preaching, they generally destroy the\npeace of society; and by holding out the hope of salvation to the\nmost guilty, they destroy its virtue. These were certainly heavy\ncharges; but do you not perceive that they are charges which may\nbe brought with strict logical accuracy against the advocates of\nbaptismal regeneration? For, if they follow out their doctrine to\nits legitimate consequences, they are compelled either to admit a\nman into heaven in an unregenerated state, who by a relapse into sin\nforfeits his baptismal rights, or, after his forfeiture, to tell him\nthat he cannot be regenerated, by which he is systematically and\ninevitably consigned over to despair.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Well, I confess that the doctrine appears\ninvolved in more oppressive difficulties than I ever conceived; and\nyet, from the quotations which Mr. Cole gave us on Sunday from the\nFathers, it appears to have been a doctrine which was received into\nthe church very early and very generally.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, to quote the language of an eloquent writer,\n'it is well known that, from a very early period, the most\nextravagant notions prevailed in the church with respect to the\nefficacy of baptism, and its absolute necessity in order to attain\nsalvation. The descent of the human mind from the spirit to the\nletter--from what is vital and intellectual to what is ritual\nand external in religion--is the true source of idolatry and\nsuperstition in all the multifarious forms they have assumed; and\nas it began early to corrupt the patriarchal religion, so it soon\nobscured the lustre and destroyed the simplicity of the Christian\ninstitute. In proportion as genuine devotion declined, the love\nof pomp and ceremony increased; the few and simple rites of\nChristianity were extolled beyond all reasonable bounds; new ones\nwere invented, to which mysterious meanings were attached, till\nthe religion of the New Testament became, in process of time, as\ninsupportable a yoke as the Mosaic law. The first effects of this\nspirit are discernible in the ideas entertained of the ordinance of\nbaptism. From an erroneous interpretation of the figurative language\nof a few passages in Scripture, in which the sign is identified with\nthe thing signified, it was universally supposed that baptism was\ninvariably accompanied with a supernatural effect, which totally\nchanged the state and character of the candidate, and constituted\nhim a child of God, and an heir of the kingdom of heaven. Hence\nit was almost constantly denoted by the terms _illumination_,\n_regeneration_, and others expressive of the highest operations\nof the Spirit; and as it was believed to obtain the _plenary_\nremission of all past sins, it was often, in order to insure that\nbenefit, purposely deferred to the latest period of life. Thus\nEusebius informs us that the Emperor Constantine, finding his end\nfast approaching, judged it a fit season for purifying himself\nfrom his offences, and cleansing his soul from that guilt which,\nin common with other mortals, he had contracted, which he believed\nwas to be effected by the power of mysterious words and the saving\nlaver. \"This,\" said he, addressing the surrounding bishops, \"_is\nthe period I have so long hoped and prayed for, the period of\nobtaining the salvation of God_.\" And no sooner was the rite of\nbaptism administered, than he arrayed himself in white garments,\nand laid aside the imperial purple, in token of his bidding adieu\nto all secular concerns.' We have here a fair specimen of the\nsentiments which were generally adopted upon this subject in early\ntimes; but if the Articles and Liturgy of our own church are to\nbe submitted to the test of the Scriptures, must not the opinions\nof the ancients pass through the same ordeal? I would therefore\nsay of all the authorities quoted by Mr. Cole, 'To the law and to\nthe testimony; if they speak not according to this word, it is\nbecause there is no light in them.' But you will permit me to add,\nthat if there be such mysterious efficacy accompanying the rite of\nbaptism, and such danger incurred by a relapse into sin after the\ncandidate has submitted to it, I think the ancients discovered more\nwisdom in having it deferred till the period of their approaching\ndissolution, than we do in submitting to it while surrounded by all\nthe fascinations of sense and the temptations to evil.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"I was never a zealous advocate for baptismal\nregeneration, but now I repudiate it as an ecclesiastical fiction.\nBut then comes a very grave question, _What is regeneration?_\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"Yes, aunt, one of the gravest and one of the most\nimportant questions that can engage our attention.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"And I must have the question satisfactorily\nsolved. Indeed, I begin to apprehend personal danger, for, though\nbaptized, I may not be regenerated.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE RETIRED CHRISTIAN.\n\n\nThe beauty of the morning tempted me to seek the recreation of a\nsolitary rural walk, and that I might not spend a useless day,\nI made a selection of tracts for distribution. After sauntering\nthrough many a pleasant lane and meadow, the freshness of the\ngrass, the beauty of the wild flowers, and the warbling of the\nbirds enlivening the scene, I came near to a mansion belonging\nto the Marquis of B----, and, availing myself of the privilege\nwhich he generously affords the public, I resolved to visit it.\nWalking leisurely up the long shady avenue, I now and then caught\na glimpse of the venerable structure, and at length it came full\nin view. It was an irregular building, of the Elizabethan period,\nof considerable extent, and in excellent preservation. As I passed\nfrom room to room, examining the articles of taste and of luxury\nwith which they were adorned, I thought within myself, how little\ncan all this splendour do to confer true happiness! The collection\nof ancient armour interested me, and the portraits of the great\nones of former times carried my mind back to events too intimately\ninterwoven with our national history ever to be forgotten. Before\nI left the library, I deposited between the leaves of some of the\nbooks lying on the table a few tracts, which I hoped might arrest\nthe attention of some of the members of the noble family, and having\ncommended these silent messengers of truth to the Divine blessing, I\nretired, delighted with what I had seen.\n\nI walked on some little distance, when, on making a sudden turn, I\ndescended a winding slope, which led to the front of a neat cottage,\npartially concealed by the evergreens which surrounded it. An air of\nfinished neatness and scrupulous order was everywhere visible, and\nits quiet simplicity formed a pleasing contrast to the magnificent\nmansion I had just left. The barking of a little dog, and the\ncrowing of a cock, satisfied me that it was inhabited, though I\nsaw neither man nor child. Discovering a tasteful seat, formed by\nthe bended branches of an ash and hazel that grew in fellowship,\nI sat me down to rest myself. I did not long remain in suspense\nas to the character of the inhabitants, for, while indulging my\nfancies, I observed, at some distance, a venerable-looking man\nadvancing towards the cottage. As he drew near, I rose and saluted\nhim: he returned the compliment with graceful ease; and his manner\nat once convinced me that, though in a rustic garb, he had been\naccustomed to mingle in polite society. His frank and kindly\nmanners at once relieved me from the embarrassment into which his\nunexpected appearance had thrown me, and it was with feelings of\ninterest and pleasure that I accepted his invitation to step into\nhis cottage and rest myself. The interior of this retreat was as\nneat as the outer decorations were beautiful; the furniture was\nsimple and inexpensive; the only thing which particularly attracted\nmy attention was a large painting, which, he informed me, was a\nfavourite family-piece. While I was admiring the picture, and\ncarefully examining the group there represented, his wife entered\nthe room, and, after a little general conversation, she pressed me\nto remain and dine with them. We soon became somewhat familiar;\nand, throwing off reserve, conversed freely, as two old friends\nare wont to talk when met together after a long absence. In course\nof conversation, my venerable host gave me some account of his\nhistory. His life had been a chequered one, on which had fallen the\nlights and shadows of prosperity and adversity. I ascertained that\nhis name was Armstrong, that he had three children--his daughter,\nwho was married to an attorney in Bristol, and his two sons, who\nresided in London. He had acquired a handsome fortune by industry\nand frugality, and having disposed of his business, had retired to\nthe country to spend the evening of his days in retirement. But\nsoon the charm and novelty of the country wore away; he was not\nhappy completely isolated from commercial life and intercourse\nwith general society; and resolved again to return to more active\npursuits. A favourable opportunity soon occurred, when he disposed\nof his country residence, and entered into partnership with a\nbanking firm of reputed respectability. But, ere long, he found that\nhe had been deceived; the concern became bankrupt, and in his old\nage he lost at one sweep the accumulated property of former years.\nThe shock to himself and his wife was at first overpowering, but,\nwhen awakening from the stupor into which it had thrown them, they\nrejoiced that their children were in a very prosperous condition,\nand they had no doubt but they would prove to them comforters in\nthe hour of their distress. In this they were not mistaken: an\narrangement was soon made for the removal of their parents from the\nscene of their sorrow and misfortunes; the cottage which they now\noccupied was purchased for them, and to secure them from all anxiety\nrespecting their future support, an annuity was settled upon them\nfor life.\n\nWhen Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong removed to the cottage, they brought\nwith them an old domestic, who had been in their service for more\nthan thirty years, and she, with a man-servant, made up the whole of\ntheir family. As they were strangers in the neighbourhood, and in\na manner cut off from intercourse with the world, they lived quite\nretired, finding, in the gratification of promoting each other's\nhappiness, more satisfaction than they had ever enjoyed in the days\nof their prosperity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Adversity,\" I remarked, \"though dreaded when at a distance, is\noften met on its near approach with calmness, and not unfrequently\nit becomes a source of greater happiness than prosperity has ever\nbeen able to impart.\"\n\n\"Prosperity,\" said Mr. Armstrong, \"possesses greater attractions\nthan adversity, but it has a more pernicious influence on the mind.\nThe prayer of Agur I admire for its simplicity and suitableness,\nseeing that wealth and extreme poverty often place our principles\nin danger:--'Two things have I required of thee; deny me them not\nbefore I die; remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither\npoverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be\nfull, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor,\nand steal, and take the name of my God in vain.'\"\n\n\"There is no exercise,\" I observed, \"which has such a salutary\ninfluence over the human heart, and over the formation of the\ncharacter, as prayer; for, by associating us with the Author of all\nexcellence, we imperceptibly imbibe a portion of his goodness; it is\nthe hand which lays hold of his strength; and then we enjoy peace,\nbecause we feel secure amidst all apparent dangers and positive\nprivations.\"\n\n\"But, Sir,\" said my host, \"how few pray!--how few understand the\nnature of prayer!--how few engage in this holy exercise from\nchoice, or derive from it that satisfaction and delight which it\nis calculated to impart!\" Looking at me with calm earnestness, he\nadded, \"Such is the magic influence which the fleeting events of\nlife have over us, that we remain comparatively indifferent to the\nrealities of an eternal world, till some disaster arises to break\nthe charm. The afflictive dispensation which deprived me of all my\nproperty, and left me dependent on my children, though severe, has\nproved the most beneficial occurrence of my history. It has taught\nme the vanity as well as the instability of all earthly possessions;\nit has led me to seek pure and substantial happiness in fellowship\nwith the Father, and his Son, Jesus Christ.\"\n\nHe then informed me that, from his childhood, he had been a regular\nattendant at his parish church, and endeavoured to practise the\nrelative virtues which he so frequently had heard inculcated. But,\nduring the whole of this time, he had no just conception of the evil\nof sin, or of the degeneracy of his nature, or of the necessity of\nthat faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ which purifies the\nheart. He was religious from habit, not from conviction; and he paid\nrespect to the ceremonies of public worship because others did so,\nrather than from any benefit which he expected to derive from them.\nThe cottage he now occupied was at a considerable distance from the\nparish church, and on his removal to it he felt quite free from the\ncontrol of the opinion of others, and usually spent his Sabbaths at\nhome. One day, however, his curiosity was excited by some rumours\nwhich reached him respecting the rector, and he resolved to go to\nhear him. \"We all walked together,\" said he, \"and on entering the\nchurch we were struck with the size of the congregation, and the\nunusual seriousness of the clergyman, who was officiating in the\ndesk. But it was when in the pulpit that he displayed the fervid\nand impassioned eloquence of a holy man of God. There he exhibited\nthe word of life with such clearness, and with such power, that we\nwere delighted; and though he advanced some things that were new to\nus, and which did not exactly agree with our own opinions, yet we\ncould not refrain from going again on the following Sabbath. Since\nthat day we have never absented ourselves, except when illness has\ncompelled us; and now I can adore the wisdom and the love of HIM\nwho broke up my former establishment, in which I lived a useless\nlife, and fixed my residence in this humble retreat, where I have\nbeen brought to hear the pure gospel, which has been the means of\ninfusing spiritual life into every member of my household.\"\n\n\"The ways of heaven,\" I remarked, \"are sometimes dark and\nmysterious; but when their ulterior design is accomplished, the\nobscurity vanishes, and we are enabled to perceive marks of infinite\nwisdom and benevolence in the events which, at an early stage,\nappeared as the precursors of judgment and of woe.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, the dispensation by which I lost my property was, indeed,\ndark and mysterious; it involved me in the depths of trouble, and\nI had no resources of consolation opened to me, but the sympathy I\nreceived from my children. It did not occur to me that a gracious\nProvidence was intending to promote my happiness by smiting the\nprosperity which I was enjoying. I reproached the agents of fraud,\nwho had deceived me, and I reproached myself for being deceived. I\nwas stung to the quick by the disgrace into which I was plunged;\nand when I retired to this cottage, I felt more disposed to murmur\nagainst the providence of God, than to offer the tribute of a\ngrateful heart.\"\n\n\"It is the influence of religion which induces within us a\ndisposition of mind in accordance with the sovereign will of our\nheavenly Father, and which teaches and inclines us to derive our\npurest enjoyments from the manifestations of His favour. Hence, he\nwho possesses the religious principle in full energy, is fitted to\nmeet any trial, however severe, and to reside in any place, however\nhumble, because he believes that all things are working together for\nhis good, and that there is no spot in the universe from whence the\nGod of providence and of grace is excluded.\"\n\n\"In my former country residence, to which I had retired with a large\nfortune, I soon began to feel out of my element. The decoration of\nmy house, and the laying out of my gardens and pleasure-grounds,\nkept me employed for a time, but when these were completed, I\nfound that the inactivity of a retired country gentleman was ill\nsuited to my active habits. I became unhappy, and was glad to\nleave the country to enter again into commercial pursuits. When\nI came here I dreaded a renewal of the experiment; and though I\nbelieved that adversity would assume and retain a powerful influence\nin reconciling me to my fate, I soon found that adversity alone\ncould not induce submission to the will of heaven, nor produce\ncontentment. The mind cannot derive support from the cause of its\ndepression. This must come from some other source. I have found it,\nor rather it was given me, when and where I looked not for it. I now\ncan say, what I never could say when in the height of my prosperity,\nthat I am really happy and contented. I have no wish to return again\nto the busy world.\"\n\n\"Solitude,\" I remarked, \"is most favourable to the spirit of\ndevotion; yet there are many of the virtues of the Christian\ncharacter which cannot be displayed but before the public eye--such\nas candour, and benevolence, and zeal; and as we are not to live to\nourselves, do you not think, Sir, it is our duty to go forth and let\nour light shine before others?\"\n\n\"Most certainly, Sir; and though WE are apparently shut out from\nthe world, and have but few of its temptations to allure, and none\nof its cares to distract us, yet we live quite near enough to its\nevils to afford us an opportunity of displaying those graces of the\nChristian character to which you have alluded. Our nearest neighbour\nis a man of wealth, and of extensive influence in the parish; but\nhe looks down on us with contempt, because we have embraced what he\ncalls _this new religion_, and he does everything in his power to\nirritate and mortify us. Just over yonder hill there are several\ncottages, which are inhabited by coal-miners, who are as ignorant\nand as depraved as any description of persons I have ever known; and\nwhere ignorance and vice abound there is sure to be wretchedness.\nHence, though we do not occupy any prominent station in the eye of\nthe public, we are not exempted from the privilege of attempting to\ndo good to others, nor from the honour of suffering persecution for\nrighteousness' sake.\"\n\n\"As you are now in the possession of a larger portion of happiness\nthan you ever previously enjoyed, do you not feel a stronger\nattachment to life than you ever felt?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, I do; because I now perceive that our life is given for\na nobler purpose than I ever conceived before. I used to think that\nit was given us for the acquisition of wealth and honour, and for\nthe gratification of the taste and feeling; but now I believe that\nthe original design of its bestowment is that we may honour and\nlove God, and, through the mediation of Jesus Christ, be prepared\nto enjoy His presence in the eternal world. But though I am more\nattached to life than ever, I have no objection to resign it, when\nit may please God to call me to do so. At my advanced age, though\nmy health is good, and my constitution unbroken, I cannot expect to\nlive many years; yet I feel the strong pulsation of a life over\nwhich neither the first nor the second death have any power. I\nshould like to live on earth, if it were the will of God, till I see\nmy dear children embrace the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ; but if\nI should be removed before that event takes place, I have no doubt\nbut I shall unite with the ministering angels and the spirits of the\nredeemed in celebrating it in HIS presence.\"\n\n\"I am happy to hear you speak with so much confidence on such an\nimportant subject, as I have long thought that the fears which\nChristian parents so often and so long cherish respecting the\nsalvation of their children, are no less dishonourable to God than\ndestructive of their own peace. He has commanded us to use the means\nfor the conveyance of truth to their minds; and he has given us many\npromises of sure success; and ought we, after all this, to despair?\nHe may withhold the renovating power, to make us more importunate\nin prayer, and to convince us that human means alone will not prove\neffectual; but still it is our duty and our privilege to expect\nthat his word shall not return unto him void, but that it shall\naccomplish that which he pleases, and prosper in the thing whereto\nhe sends it.\"\n\nI was much interested by the conversation of my host, and my\ngratification was increased by hearing that he attended the ministry\nof the Rev. Mr. Guion, of whom he spoke with all the warmth of\nfilial attachment; that he was personally acquainted with my\nesteemed friend, the Rev. Mr. Ingleby; and had often heard of Mr.\nand Mrs. Stevens, though he knew them not. I now bade this aged\ncouple farewell, and set out to retrace my steps to Fairmount,\nhighly pleased with the adventures of the day, which I found as\nconducive to my mental and spiritual improvement, as they had been\nbeneficial to my health.\n\n\n\n\nSPIRITUAL REGENERATION A REALITY.\n\n\nAn occurrence took place in the course of the day which revived the\nquestion of the preceding evening. Two funerals passed along the\nroad in front of Mr. Roscoe's mansion. The first was that of a man,\nwho died in the prime of life; and the second was that of an infant,\nwho expired soon after its birth. The man had been a poacher, and,\nlike most who devote themselves to illicit practices, he had lived\na dissolute life. He rarely if ever attended church; usually spent\nhis Sabbaths in idleness, or in the indulgence of his vicious\npropensities; was notorious for the vulgarity and impurity of his\nmanners; and such was his aversion to religion, that when the Rev.\nMr. Cole called to see him, only a few days before his death, he\nbluntly told him that as he had lived without religion, he had made\nup his mind to die without it.\n\nThe infant was the first-born of an interesting couple, who had been\nmarried little more than twelve months. They lived in a genteel\nresidence at the farther end of the village, and were celebrated\namongst their neighbours no less for their affection for each other,\nthan the sufferings which they endured before their union was\nconsummated. The cupidity of their parents kept them apart for a\nperiod nearly as long as Jacob served for his beloved Rachel, when\ndeath came, and by leaving them orphans, broke down the barrier\nwhich had obstructed their union. But they were both too deeply\naffected by their loss to evince any symptoms of pleasure; and such\nwas the respect in which they held the memory of their parents, that\nthey permitted one year to pass over their heads before they were\nmarried. On the nuptial morning, a large number of the villagers\ngreeted them with their simple benedictions as they left the\nchurch; and when they alighted from the carriage to enter their own\ndwelling, they were surrounded by a group of females dressed in\nwhite, who presented them with a garland of flowers--expressing, at\nthe same time, a wish that their joy might prove of a less fading\nnature.\n\n\"It is,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"by bringing the incidents and facts of\nreal life to bear on the doctrines of our belief, that we are able\nto test them. The man who has just gone to his grave was the son\nof the parish clerk, and I well remember when he was baptized. If\nregeneration takes place when the ceremony of baptism is performed,\nhe was then made a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom\nof heaven. But what moral good resulted from this supposed change\nin his state and character? None. He grew up a wild lad--he lived\nwithout religion--and without it he died. But the child whose\nfuneral we have just seen pass--this babe, the first-fruits of\nconjugal bliss, which just made its appearance in this valley of\nweeping, a branch too tender to thrive in such an uncongenial soil,\nafter languishing for a few seconds, experienced a premature decay.\nIt was a branch from the wild olive, and required the same spiritual\ngrafting to fit it to luxuriate in the garden of the Lord as a more\nhardy plant. But if this spiritual operation cannot be performed\nexcept when the sacrament of baptism is administered, as some\nassert, then is this tender scion a brier or a thorn, whose end is\nto be burned, for it withered and died before the waters of healing\ncould be procured. The impure and impious ruffian, who dies in the\nact of scornfully rejecting the Christian faith, passes at once into\nthe kingdom of heaven, and takes rank with prophets, and apostles,\nand martyrs; while the little lovely babe, when waking up into a\nstate of consciousness, instead of feeling the tender embraces of a\nmother, is startled into terror and anguish, by the sight and sound\nof infernal and lost spirits! Really this baptismal regeneration\nof the Tractarian churchman is such a monstrous doctrine, that I\nam at a loss to conceive how any man of common sense and humane\nfeeling can appear as its advocate; it is a libel on the Christian\nfaith, a daring outrage on parental feeling, and altogether a fatal\ndelusion.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have been reviewing my opinion on the\nquestion of baptismal regeneration since our last discussion, and\nI find the difficulties in which it is involved too numerous and\ntoo formidable to be fairly overcome. I find I must abandon it; but\nin doing this I am plunged into deep perplexity; for I am utterly\nincapable of conceiving _what regeneration can be_, unless I imbibe\nthe notions of the evangelical clergy, which I never can do.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"To object to truth, attested by conclusive evidence,\nmerely because it is admitted by a class of men against whom strong\nantipathies are improperly excited, is a mark, not of wisdom, but of\nfolly; and if you push such a determination to the full extent of\nits application, you will be reduced to the necessity of giving up\nyour belief in the existence of a God--the Divine mission of Jesus\nChrist--the doctrine of providence--the resurrection and the final\njudgment--as they believe these doctrines in common with you.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Very true; but you know that prejudice is more\ndifficult to subdue than reason; and hence it may be termed the\nforlorn hope of truth, which but few can take. But as the question\nis one of paramount importance, and we have leisure to discuss it, I\nwish it to be pursued, and I shall be glad if you will give me your\ndefinition of regeneration.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The word regeneration rarely occurs in the New\nTestament; but there are many other terms employed, which convey\nthe same leading idea; such as, being born again--born of the\nSpirit--born of God--being made a new creature in Christ Jesus.\nHence, when the apostle had exhorted the Ephesians to put off,\nwith respect to their former conversation, 'the old man, which is\ncorrupt, according to the deceitful lusts,' he adds, 'and be renewed\nin the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, which after\nGod,' or in conformity to His image, 'is created in righteousness\nand true holiness;' and in his address to the Romans he says,\n'and be not conformed to this world; but be ye transformed by the\nrenewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and\nacceptable, and perfect will of God.' These passages decidedly\nprove, at least in my opinion, the necessity of some _moral change_\nin the principles, and dispositions, and tempers of our mind; and I\nam not aware that I can give you a better definition of it than you\nwill find in the preface to a volume of discourses which I have in\nmy library:--'_By regeneration is meant, a prevailing disposition\nof the mind to universal holiness, produced and cherished by the\ninfluence of the Divine Spirit operating in a manner suitable to the\nconstitution of our nature, as rational and accountable creatures._'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"The passages which you have quoted\nunquestionably imply the necessity of some moral change; and I can\nconceive a propriety in their application to the Jews, or to pagan\nGentiles of ancient times; but they cannot, with any show of reason,\nbe applied to us, who are born Christians, and educated in the\nbelief of Christianity.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"No, we are not born Christians. We are born in\na country where Christianity is professed, and of parents who\nbear the Christian name, and we have been educated in a belief of\nChristianity; yet no one is a Christian until he is renewed in the\nspirit of his mind, and is in some measure conformed to the image of\nJesus Christ, who was holy and undefiled. To prove the correctness\nof this statement, I will refer you to our old friend, Mr. Trotter.\nHis father, you know, was a good man; but he himself, with all his\nexcellencies, was an avowed sceptic; and his brother was no less\ndissolute in his habits than he was corrupt in his principles.\nYou will admit, I presume, that some moral change is necessary in\nrelation to such men.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Certainly; if a man be a sceptic, his opinions\nmust be changed before he can become a believer; and if his habits\nare depraved, they must be changed before he can become a Christian.\nBut the majority are virtuous, and to these I suppose you do not\nintend to apply the doctrine.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"You may know many whose characters are adorned\nwith the various traits of excellence, but have you ever known a\nperfect man?--a man in whose temper there is no flaw--in whose\ndisposition there is no perversity--in whose principles there is no\nobliquity--one who uniformly, and on all occasions, displays the\nmost entire and irreproachable goodness?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"No, I must confess that I do not know such a\none. I quite admit that the most perfect and the most amiable men\nI have ever known, have, on close acquaintance, disclosed some\nimperfections of character, more or less.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"And may not a person acquire a high degree of virtue\neven while he is destitute of every _religious_ principle? Our\nfriend, Mr. Frowd, as you may well remember, was a most excellent\nand virtuous man, and even a zealous Churchman; but you know that he\nrejected the Divine origin of Christianity, and supported the church\nas a mere human establishment, which served to give stability to\nthe government, by operating on the prejudices and passions of the\nmasses of the people through the medium of her clergy. Hence we must\nnot confound morality and religion, as though they were essentially\nthe same thing, seeing that the most moral may be as sceptical in\ntheir opinions as the most impure, and are often even more unwilling\nthan they, to receive the humiliating doctrines and self-denying\nprecepts of the gospel.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I admit the correctness of your statement,\nand I assure you that this view of the matter has often excited my\nastonishment. I have in my parish a gentleman, who is very humane\nand benevolent--a faithful friend--beloved by all who know him; but\nhe has not been to church for nearly twenty years, except when he\ncame to receive the sacrament, on his being elected sheriff of the\ncounty. I have sometimes spoken to him on the subject of religion,\nbut he shrewdly gets away from my arguments by saying, 'Sir, you are\nto be commended for doing your duty.'\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"And will not these facts convince you that the moral\ndisorder of our nature lies in the heart, which may be deceitful\nand desperately wicked in the sight of God, even while some of the\nvirtues adorn the character. Have you yet to learn, my brother,\nthat pride, which disdains vulgar vice--that a love of fame and\nthat self-interest may generate many social and domestic virtues,\neven while the inner man is enmity against God, neither recognizing\nthe authority of his law, nor embracing the truths of the gospel?\nOn this subject I can speak with strong personal feeling; and if\nI may refer to a passage in my own history, it is not to gratify\nvanity, but to illustrate the distinction which the Scriptures\npreserve between morality and personal religion. I lived for many\nyears a virtuous life, attached to the church, and devoting much of\nmy time to the study of the Scriptures, reverencing God as a great\nand good being, and believing in the Divine mission of Jesus Christ;\nbut during the whole of this time I was ignorant of the alienation\nof my affections from God--of the actual depravity of my heart--of\nthe essential evil of sin; nor could I understand how we are to be\nsaved by grace, through faith, until it pleased God to enlighten my\nunderstanding; then all obscurity vanished, and now, I trust, I know\nthe mysteries of truth more perfectly.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"You who embrace what are termed evangelical\nsentiments, always employ a mystical phraseology of speech, which\nno one can understand but the initiated; and this is one principal\ncause of the prejudice which prevails against them amongst the more\nintelligent and less enthusiastic part of society.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But our mystical phraseology of speech, as you\nare pleased to term it, is the very language of Scripture; and\nthe inspired writers who have employed it, would doubtless use it\nnow, if they were speaking to us. You, then, ought to transfer\nyour objections from us to them; but in doing so, you would be\nencountering an authority which you profess to venerate. But, after\nall, the objection is less against the phraseology of Scripture,\nthan against the truth of which it is the appointed vehicle of\ncommunication. Pride, under some peculiar modification, is the\nepidemic disease of our nature; but none are more under its dominion\nthan men of intelligence, of taste, and of virtue; and it is against\nthis passion that the gospel of Jesus Christ directs the thunder\nof its power. How mortifying to a man of intellectual fame, whose\nsuperior genius feels equal to the comprehension of whole systems\nof truth, by a single exertion of its power, to be told that\n'_whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child,\nshall not enter therein!_' How mortifying to a man, whose amiable\ntemper, whose social habits, whose fascinating manners, whose\nconstitutional virtues have combined to raise him far above his\nfellows, to be told that he must come down from his vantage-ground,\nto kneel at the same throne of grace with publicans and harlots, and\nimplore forgiveness in language equally humiliating with that which\nthey employ!\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have always thought that the cultivation\nof the virtues predisposed the mind to receive the truths of\nChristianity; but if your statement be correct, a virtuous man may\nbe no more fit for the kingdom of heaven than a profane one.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Nor can he be, _unless he is born again_. He may,\nlike the Pharisee in the gospel, trust in the merit of his virtues\nfor salvation, instead of trusting in the redemption made by Jesus\nChrist; but having no just perceptions of the degeneracy of his\nnature, he repudiates with disdain the doctrine of regeneration,\nwhich Jesus Christ asserts to be universally necessary.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then you believe that _all_ men are depraved,\nthough not _equally corrupt_; and that all, notwithstanding their\nvarious shades of excellence, stand in equal need of the moral\nchange which you think regeneration denotes?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"We should remember that Christianity is essentially\na restorative dispensation; it bears a continual respect to a\nstate from which man is fallen, and is a provision for repairing\nthat ruin which the introduction of moral evil has brought upon\nhim. Exposed to the displeasure of God, and the curse of his law,\nhe stands in need of a Redeemer; disordered in his powers, and\ncriminally averse to his duty, he equally needs a Sanctifier. And it\nis to men of every age and of every clime, as guilty and depraved\nsinners, without paying any respect to the lighter degrees of their\ndepravity and guilt, that the gospel of Jesus Christ brings the glad\ntidings of complete redemption; but if any reject it, through a\nfalse conception that they do not require its renovating power or\nits cleansing virtue, they are, in the language of the Scriptures,\nemphatically denominated unbelievers, on whom the wrath of God\nabideth continually.\"\n\nThe conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the ladies,\nwho informed us that they had made a call at Fairmount, where they\nhad been highly gratified.--\"Indeed,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"I must\nconfess that I was most agreeably disappointed. Mrs. Stevens is no\nless accomplished than intelligent; and I was delighted with her\nfrank and cheerful disposition, and the elegant ease of her manners.\nInstead of a demure lady, disgusted with the world, and absorbed\nin the anticipations of a future state, she talked pleasantly of\nmen and things, as a contented and a happy resident amongst them.\nI could perceive that religion was her favourite theme; yet there\nwas no gloom with it, nor overweening self-conceit. She appeared\nalmost like an angel pleading the cause of heaven, and that in such\nlanguage and with such feeling as I never before heard or witnessed.\nShe disengaged the religious principle from all its connections and\nassociations with human forms and ceremonials, and presented it in\nits own native simplicity and purity; I could see that _it_ was to\nher no less a source of felicity than a subject of contemplation and\ndiscussion. She must be, indeed, a happy woman.\"\n\n\"It is generally supposed,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"that the religious\nprinciple, when it takes possession of the mind, pervading all its\npowers, and regulating all its movements, necessarily becomes the\nsource of perpetual dejection and sorrow; but a more false notion\nnever obtained currency. True religion is not a source of misery,\nbut a perennial spring of contentment; the day-star of hope, the\nrising and setting sun of human happiness.\"\n\n\"But you know, my dear,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"that your religion\nprohibits you from participating in many sources of amusement in\nwhich you once took great delight; and as they are so innocent and\nso agreeable, I cannot but think that in this respect it must be\npainful to you to make the sacrifices which your religion requires\nyou to make.\"\n\n\"If, mamma, I looked back on my former sources of gratification\nwith a lingering eye, and still longed to participate in them, I\ncertainly should feel the restraining power to be painful; but _the\ngrace of God_, by renewing my mind, has entirely changed my taste;\nand now the theatre, the ball, or the card-party, would be to me as\nmuch a source of actual pain as they once were of ephemeral joy.\nWhile sojourning in this vale of life, the enjoyment of fellowship\nwith my heavenly Father is more than a recompense for the loss of\nthose pleasures which I have abandoned.\"\n\nOn which Mr. Roscoe remarked: \"If the revelation of mercy was\nintended to promote our happiness, it certainly would fail in\naccomplishing its design if it proved a source of misery.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"I have never yet conceived of\nreligion as being a source of _mental bliss_. I have felt it a duty\nto be religious, but never a pleasure. I have read over my prayers,\nbut they never came from my heart. I have practised some of the\nself-denying virtues of religion, but it has been more from a sense\nof duty than from actual preference. I have sometimes thought of\ngoing to heaven, but I have never derived any gratification from\nanticipating it.\"\n\n\"O no,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, interrupting her, \"neither have I.\"\n\n\"But,\" replied Mrs. John Roscoe, \"one thing is certain, there is\nsome essential difference in the origin and the character of that\nreligion which is a source of real pleasure, and that which is\nembraced from a mere sense of duty.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"the religion which is embraced from a mere\nsense of duty, is the religion of forms and ceremonies; while the\nreligion which is the source of mental bliss, is the religion of\nprinciple and of feeling. The one may be assumed or laid aside as\nfancy or as convenience may dictate; but the other, taking up its\nabode in the heart, liveth and abideth for ever. All false religions\ntake man as he is; they accommodate themselves to his errors and\nhis passions; they leave him essentially the same as they found\nhim; _they_ follow the man, they are formed after _his_ likeness:\nwhereas in genuine religion the _man_ changes--he is modelled\nafter the image of Jesus Christ. The gospel, instead of flattering,\ntells him that in his present state he is incapable of performing\nits duties or of relishing its joys; that he _must_ be transformed,\nor he cannot enter into the kingdom of God; and what it requires\nit produces; hence all is order and harmony. For everything in the\ndispensation of the gospel and the constitution of the Christian\nchurch is _new_; we have 'a _new_ covenant;' we 'approach God by a\n_new_ and living way;' we 'sing a _new_ song;' we are called by a\n_new_ name; according to his promise we look for '_new_ heavens and\na _new_ earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.' 'He that sitteth\nupon the throne saith, Behold I create _all_ things _new_.' Can we\nwonder then that we are required to 'put off the old man with his\ndeeds, and to put on the _new_ man;' 'to walk in _newness_ of life;'\n'to serve him in the _newness_ of the spirit, and not in the oldness\nof the letter?' that we are assured 'that neither circumcision\navaileth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a _new_ creature;' '_that\nif any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed\naway, behold, all things are become new_?'\"\n\n\"I feel,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"under the impulse of strong\nexcitement. Some strange emotions--conflicting emotions--which\nI know not how to embody in distinct and appropriate forms of\nexpression. I have been religious--scrupulously religious--and yet\nmy religious ideas have been vague and indefinite; my religion has\nnever engaged my affections. I felt charmed while listening to the\nchaste eloquence of Mrs. Stevens, when speaking of the practical\ninfluence of the love and grace of Christ on her soul; and your\ncorrect distinctions between the religion of mere form and the\nreligion of principle, confound and subdue me; but I want two\nthings, which you, Sir, and Mrs. Stevens seem to possess--I want\na spirit to discern the distinction, and a heart to feel it. Yes,\nthere must be a mental change in me before I can see as you see, and\nfeel as you feel.\"\n\nHer husband, interrupting her, exclaimed, \"My dear, you must put a\ncurb on your imagination, or before you leave for the sober quietude\nof home, you will become an evangelical enthusiast.\"\n\n\"To be candid; I am awe-struck by the new discoveries I am making,\nor rather by the new visions of religious truth which are rising\nbefore me. Indeed, I must have the religion of principle; that of\nmere form has no life, no power; it throws out no attractions; it\ntouches not the heart to excite its affections; it does not bring me\ninto contact with a living Saviour; nor does it inspire me with a\nhope full of immortality.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said her husband, \"you surprise me.\"\n\n\"You cannot feel more surprised than I feel myself. I feel on the\neve of some great crisis in my moral history, and yet I see nothing\ndistinctly, except the utter worthlessness of a religion of mere\nform without a living principle.\"\n\nWe were all too much astonished by this sudden outburst of\nimpassioned feeling, to make any observations; at length Miss\nRoscoe broke through the silence, which was felt to be painfully\noppressive, by saying, \"I hope, my dear aunt, the Divine Spirit\nis gently leading you into the way of peace and the paths of\nrighteousness, for his name's sake. What is now obscure will\nsoon become clear; wait patiently on the Lord until the day of\nexplanation dawn, and then the day-star of hope will arise in your\nheart.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE EVIDENCES OF SPIRITUAL REGENERATION.\n\n\nOn returning from a walk in the garden, the Rev. Mr. Roscoe said to\nhis brother, \"I have just been having a talk with your gardener, and\nI think you have got one of the most industrious and intelligent\nworkmen I have ever met with; he both understands how to cultivate\nhis garden and how to cultivate his mind.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Robert is a very good and a very clever\nservant; he respects the apostolic injunction, and renders\nobedience, not with eye-service, as a man-pleaser, but as a servant\nof Christ, doing the will of God from the heart. He is conscientious\nand intelligent; and I believe that he would neither waste my time\nby indolence, nor my property by negligence or extravagance.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"A good servant is very valuable; but, like\nmost other valuable things, he is very rare. Your gardener seems\nmuch attached to you, and says he hopes to die in your service.\nFrom the style of his conversation, and the extent of his general\ninformation, I should suppose he has had a superior education, and\nthat he must have seen better days.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"No; he never occupied a higher rank in life than\nhe does at present. His father, who is still living in one of my\ncottages in the village, is a very worthy man, who has brought\nup a large family, and he often boasts of having done it without\nreceiving any assistance from the parish. He is a fine specimen\nof the true English character in its primitive state. About three\nyears since he was very ill; and as we knew that his resources were\nscanty, we voted him twenty shillings at a vestry meeting, which\nthe overseer was requested to give to him. But when the money was\npresented he said, 'I am much obliged to you, Sir, and to the other\ngentlemen, for your kindness, but I will never eat bread that's\nbought with parish money; no, Sir, I won't disgrace my family in my\nold age.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"That is a noble spirit! If such a spirit were\ngenerally diffused among our labouring population, there would be\nmore virtue and more happiness in the country. I am not surprised\nthat you have such a servant, now I find that he has such a father.\nIs the old man evangelical in his principles?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, and in his practice; but he was not able to\ninfuse his principles into his son, who for many years evinced\nstrong antipathies against his father's piety. He inherited his\nhonesty, and industry, and high independent spirit; but he was very\nprofane, which was a source of great distress to the good old man.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But I should hope that he is not so now, for I\nwas led to infer, from some expressions which he used, that he was a\nvery virtuous man.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, he is virtuous, and more than virtuous--he\nis now decidedly pious. He is a living witness of the doctrine of\nregeneration; and if you go and ask him what it is, he will tell you\nthat _it is an internal change in the dispositions and propensities\nof the mind, produced, not by the application of water in baptism,\nbut by the renewing power of the Divine Spirit_.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I did not think that talking of the old man and\nhis son would lead us to the subject of our late discussion; but as\nit has come up again, let me ask you one question--If regeneration\ndo not take place at the time of our baptism, when does it take\nplace, and how will it be possible for us to decide whether we have\nbeen regenerated or not?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"If it invariably take place at the time of baptism,\naccording to the popular construction of our prayer-book, and the\ncurrent belief of the Tractarian members of our church, nothing more\nwould be necessary to convince us that we are the children of God\nthan an attested copy of our baptismal register, which I presume, on\nreflection, you will deem too preposterous and too hazardous to be\nadmitted.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But admitting, for the sake of the argument,\nthat baptism is regeneration, where would be the hazard of letting\nour assurance of it depend on an attested copy of our parish\nregister?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, suppose such an attested copy could not\nbe obtained, then we could have no substantial proof of our\nregeneration. We may be the children of God, and we may be\ninheritors of the kingdom of heaven; but if the officiating minister\nneglect to record the fact of our baptism, or if the register-book\nshould be lost or burnt, it will be impossible for us to prove it,\neven though the Spirit itself bear witness with our spirit that we\nare the children of God. To what a dilemma, then, may a son of God\nbe reduced! He may be in the possession of every moral evidence\nof his filial relation to his heavenly Father--he may love him,\nfear him, and glorify him; he may have put off the old man, which\nis corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; and may have put on\nthe new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true\nholiness: but not being able to establish the fact of his baptism\nby the production of a genuine copy of its insertion in the parish\nregister, he is not able to prove the fact of his regeneration. 'A\nsituation this of doubt, suspense, and anxiety, with regard to our\neternal welfare, to which it is reasonable to believe that, with\nsuch a revelation of his will as Christianity professes to be, the\nFather of mercies and God of all comfort would not expose his humble\ncreatures.'\"[13]\n\n  [13] Dr. Mant.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I am satisfied that it does not invariably\nnor necessarily take place at baptism; but then, when does it take\nplace?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It does not uniformly take place at any particular\nage, but precisely at that period in the life of man which the\nSpirit of God determines. Some, I have no doubt, are regenerated\nby the Holy Spirit in the days of infancy, and grow up into life\nunder the influence of the holy principles which were implanted\nin their soul when they had no consciousness of it. I have a book\nat hand, from which I will read you a passage that is quite to\nthe point:--'God has wisely given to the female sex a peculiar\ntenderness of address, and an easy and insinuating manner, which is\nadmirably adapted to the great end for which he intended it, that of\nconveying knowledge to children, and making tender impressions on\ntheir minds; and there is hardly any view in which the importance of\nthe sex more evidently appears.'\n\n\"It seems to me that children may early come to have some\napprehensions of what is most important in religion. They may have a\nreverence for God, and a love for him, as that great Father who made\nthem, and that kind friend who gives them everything that they have;\nand they may have a fear of doing anything that would displease him.\nAnd though it is not so easy for them to understand the doctrines\npeculiar to a Redeemer, yet when they hear of Christ as the _Son of\nGod, who came down from heaven_ to teach men and children the way\nthither, and who died to deliver them from death and hell, their\nlittle hearts may well be impressed with such thoughts as these,\nand they may find a growing desire to be instructed in _what Christ\nis_ and _what he taught and did_, and also to do what shall appear\nto be his will. And wherever this is the prevailing disposition,\nit seems to me that the seeds of holiness are sown in that soul,\nthough but small proficiency may be made in knowledge, and though\nthe capacities for service may be very low. But the tendency to that\nwhich is evil and the aversion to that which is good, which children\ngenerally discover, is a decisive proof that very few are renewed at\nthis early period. They often outgrow their religious impressions,\nyield to the force of temptations, and allow themselves to be\ndrawn aside from the path of duty by the attractive charms which a\ndeceitful world holds out to allure and destroy. But, while glowing\nwith health and devoting themselves to the pleasures and amusements\nof this life, it often pleases God to arrest them in their career\nof folly as they are entering on the age of manhood, or during the\nfirst few years of it, and then they yield themselves unto God as\nthose that are alive from the dead.\n\n\"'Some,' to quote from the same author, 'are wrought upon by Divine\ngrace in the _advance and even in the decline of life_. There are\nbut few who arrive at what may be called old age, and of them but\nvery few who, at that period, feel the great change; nor shall we be\nmuch surprised at this if we consider the inveterate nature of bad\nhabits, which renders it almost as hard for them that are accustomed\nto do evil to learn to do good, as it is for the Ethiopian to change\nhis skin, or the leopard his spots.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But one should imagine that the more our reason\nis improved, and the nearer we get to another world, the more\nsolemnly and deeply the heart would be affected by the great and\nawful truths of religion. You never thought so much nor so deeply\non religious subjects when you were young as you do now; and,\ntherefore, I wonder you agree with your author in supposing this to\nbe a very unfavourable period to be regenerated.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Very true; but I cannot see one of my own age in\nthe whole circle of my acquaintance, who has been impressed in a\nsimilar manner to myself. 'It is in vain to reason against facts,'\nsays a judicious writer, 'and experience proves that it is an\n_uncommon thing_ for persons to be awakened and reformed in old\nage; _especially if they_ have been educated in the principles of\nreligion. Nevertheless, to prove the infinite energy and sovereignty\nof Divine grace, God is sometimes pleased to renew even such: He\ntouches the rock which has stood for ages unmoved, and the waters\nflow forth; He says to the dry bones--live, and they are animated\nwith life; and then, with the vigour of a renewed youth, they devote\nthemselves to God.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then you think that this great change in the\nhuman heart may take place at any period of life, though you think\nthat the season of youth or early manhood is the most favourable.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I do.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Will you now tell me by what sort of evidence a\nperson who is actually regenerated acquires a satisfactory knowledge\nof the fact?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The apostle says, 'Therefore, if any man be in\nChrist, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold,\nall things are become new.' When an immoral man undergoes this\ninternal renovation, there will be such a change in his habits and\nin his conversation that it will be conspicuous to all who know\nhim. The swearer will fear an oath--the drunkard will put from him\nthe intoxicating cup--the Sabbath-breaker will keep holy the day\nof rest--the impure, who have been as a walking pestilence in the\nsocial world, will become chaste--and those who have displayed the\nmore malignant and ferocious passions, will distinguish themselves\nby their meekness, gentleness, and humility.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But may not this reformation take place in the\ncharacter of the more dissolute, without any change being effected\nin the dispositions and propensities of their hearts?\"\n\n_Mr. Rosco._--\"Yes; the influence of persuasion, of example, of\nself-interest, and of mortified pride--the decay of the vigour of\nthe animal passions, and a fearful apprehension of future judgment,\nwill sometimes operate a most surprising reformation in some of the\nmore licentious; but when it proceeds from any of these causes, if\nthey do not relapse into their former course of evil, they become\nsatisfied with a mere scantling of exterior morality--evincing, at\nthe same time, the utmost degree of aversion to the things of the\nSpirit of God. But when this reformation in the character proceeds\nfrom the renovation of the heart, it resembles the shining light,\nwhich shines clearer and brighter until the perfect day; those who\nundergo it become decidedly pious, and usually engage in the holy\nexercises of religion with a high degree of animation and delight.\nThey will speak in the most exalted terms of the Redeemer--of the\ngreatness of his love, and of the sovereignty of his grace; they\nwill discover the most intense concern for the spiritual welfare\nof others in whom sin is reigning unto death; and while they will\noften look back with astonishment on the scenes of danger from which\nthey have been delivered, they will boldly and cheerfully devote\nthemselves to the service of Christ, notwithstanding the opposition\nor the persecution they may have to encounter. I remember, when my\ngardener, Robert, felt the great change, he became all at once so\nanxious to go and hear Mr. Ingleby preach, so much attached to his\nBible, so zealous for the conversion of his fellow-servants, and so\nfond of conversing on the essential doctrines of the gospel, that I\nthought at the time he would lose his senses; but now I can easily\naccount for it all; and though some lighter shades of imperfection\nstill rest on his character, yet he holds fast his integrity, and is\na living witness of the efficacy of the gospel, which is the power\nof God unto salvation to every one that believeth.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"If I mistake not, you have asserted that\nthis renovation of the heart is as necessary for a moral person,\nwhose character is adorned with many social virtues, as for one\nwho is openly profane. Now, if we admit this to be correct, what\nperceptible change can take place in his conduct when he is renewed,\nand by what evidences can _he_ be convinced of it?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"There will not be that visible transition, in his\ncase, from a state of depravity to a state of purity; but the moral\nman, when regenerated, will become a _pious man_. He will discover\nthe same anxiety on the question of his personal salvation--the\nsame attachment to the Bible--the same zeal for the conversion\nof others--the same disposition to converse on the essential\ndoctrines of the gospel, as the regenerated immoral man; and he will\nascribe this change to the same supernatural cause; and, by the\navowal of his sentiments and by his decision, he will provoke the\nsame expression of scorn and contempt from the men of the world.\nThere will be a striking similarity between his character and his\nreligious habits after his regeneration, and the character and\nreligious habits of one who was previously an immoral man, but who\nhas _been renewed in the spirit of his mind_; and they will both be\nin possession of more satisfactory evidences of their regeneration\nthan any exterior change which their character and their life may\nsupply.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"What are those _other_ evidences of\nregeneration to which you now refer?\"\n\nMrs. John Roscoe now became much excited. \"Yes,\" she said, \"that's\nthe important question I want explained. I have been living many\nyears under a most fatal delusion, for though baptized, I am not\nregenerated; nor do I as yet know what regeneration is. Be very\nsimple and plain in your explanation.\" She now sat looking and\nlistening with a fixed intensity of anxious earnestness, reminding\nme of the appearance of a defendant whom I once watched in a crowded\ncourt, during the prolonged consultation of the jury, whose verdict\nwas to secure to him the possession of his rich inheritance, or\nreduce him to comparative pauperism.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"A person who is regenerated will be introduced\nas into a new world; the transition from his former to his new\nmoral condition, whether it takes place suddenly, or by a gradual\nprocess, will be so clear to his mind that he cannot doubt it; he\nwill form new and more accurate perceptions of the character of\nGod--of his own character--of the visible and invisible world--and\nof the official character of Jesus Christ; he will feel the force of\nobligations pressing upon him, of which he had previously formed no\nconception, and he will discover sources of enjoyment of a new and a\nmore refined order.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I fear you are now taking me into an imaginary\nregion, where we shall be both lost amidst the obscurities of a\nfanatical and enthusiastic belief.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I am as great an enemy to fanaticism as yourself;\nbut you will permit me to say that this term is often affixed as a\nstigma on personal piety. I am now merely stating facts, which are\nattested by the evidence of experience. Do we not read in the Bible\nthat the renewed man has the eye of his understanding enlightened?\nDoes not this expression imply that before his renovation his\nunderstanding was darkened, through the ignorance that was within\nhim? And can we suppose that he discovers no fresh objects of\ncontemplation and delight when this new power of spiritual vision\nis imparted? He has new apprehensions of the spirituality and\nomnipresence of God--of his majesty and purity--of his power and\npatience--of his goodness--and especially of his condescension\nin hearing and answering prayer. And when he turns his eye in\nupon himself, he discovers his guilt, his depravity, and his\nunworthiness; and exclaims, Woe is me, for I am unclean! He is no\nless astonished at the Divine forbearance towards him than he is at\nhis own insensibility and ingratitude; and while he offers up the\ntribute of praise to the God of his mercies, he abhors himself, and\nrepents in dust and in ashes. But his chief attention is fixed on\nthe person of the Redeemer--on the efficacy of his death--on the\nprevalence of his intercession--on his amazing and boundless love\nfor sinners--even the chief. On these grand and important themes he\ndwells with the most enraptured delight. They now appear before him\ninvested with a charm all their own; and he is no less astonished\nwhen he remembers his former indifference to them, than he is at\nthat death-like insensibility which the great majority around him\ndiscover. The pleasures and the pursuits of the world, which once\nengrossed so large a portion of his attention, and so powerfully\ninterested his passions, now sink into insignificance when compared\nwith the realities of the invisible state; and though he feels no\ndisposition to neglect his present duties, yet he often anticipates,\nwith intense emotions of delight, the glory which is to be revealed\non entering the kingdom of heaven. Having been redeemed by the\nprecious blood of Christ, and sanctified in part by the eternal\nSpirit, he now feels the powerful obligations of gratitude and love\nconstraining him to yield himself to God, to serve and glorify\nhim. He can now without regret leave his sinful pleasure, and from\nmeditation, prayer, and listening to the gospel's joyous sound, he\ncan derive real and substantial happiness.\n\n\"But one of the most satisfactory evidences of regeneration is an\naversion to sin, and an ardent desire for an entire conformity\nto the purity of the Divine nature, which every renewed man\nfeels--an aversion which is not directed exclusively against open\nimmoralities, but which extends to the principles of evil which\nlie concealed in the recesses of the heart. Hence, his prayer will\nbe--Cleanse thou me from secret faults; keep back thy servant from\npresumptuous sin; let no iniquity have dominion over me; lead me\nnot into temptation, but deliver me from all evil. But the renewed\nman is not more anxious to be preserved from the dominion of sinful\npassions and principles, than he is to become holy, even as God is\nholy. And as he knows that this assimilation can be produced only\nby immediate intercourse with God, he walks in a state of habitual\ncommunion with him; and though he is not always conscious of his\npresence, nor always favoured with the sensible manifestations of\nit, yet he cleaves to him in the purposes of his heart. Now, I\nappeal to you, if such a change in the character, in the views,\nand in the tastes of a man, is not a powerful evidence of his\nhaving undergone that internal renovation or regeneration which the\nScriptures represent to be indispensably necessary to fit us for\nthe kingdom of heaven.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, I must confess that such a change is a\nmore rational evidence of regeneration than the simple fact that the\nbaptismal ceremony has been performed; but how few of those who have\nbeen baptized possess any such evidence of their being the children\nof God, and the inheritors of the kingdom of heaven.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This is too true; and, alas! what an appalling\ntruth!\"\n\nMrs. John Roscoe, who listened with profound attention to the whole\nof this discussion, on rising with her niece to take a stroll in\nthe garden, said, \"What a burlesque on the sanctity of our pure and\nsublime faith, to see an immoral man, when reproved for his vices,\nand warned to flee from the wrath, deliberately appeal to the fact\nof his having been baptized, to prove that he is a child of God, and\nan inheritor of the kingdom of heaven! Can we conceive of anything\nmore puerile, or more calculated to encourage persons to riot in\nsin, fearless of the fearful consequences? It is quite time this\nfatal heresy was driven out of our church, and torn out of our\nprayer-book.\"\n\n\"I think so too, aunt; but what commotion would be excited amongst\nour church-going people if any legal attempt were made to substitute\nthe simple and significant baptism of the New Testament for this\ndelusive papal ceremony of baptismal regeneration. Why, many would\nrather have their Bibles mutilated than their prayer-book. The\nBishop of Oxford calls it a Churchman's blessed inheritance, which\nought to be preserved entire; no change in a book which is so\nperfect.\"\n\n\n\n\nON CONVERSION.\n\n\nReturning with Mr. Roscoe and his brother from a survey of some\nancient ruins, which reminded us of the departed heroes of olden\ntimes, and of the legendary tales of their strange and adventurous\nlife, which are still rife amongst the people who reside in this\nvicinity, we overtook Mr. Stevens, who consented to spend the\nevening with us, and we walked on together to Mr. Roscoe's mansion.\n\nAfter tea our conversation turned on the rise, progress, and\ncharacter of Methodism, when the Rev. Mr. Roscoe gave it as his\nunqualified opinion, that its introduction into this kingdom was\nno less fatal to the honour and harmony of the church, than the\nirruptions of the Goths and Vandals from the trackless deserts of\nthe North, were to the literature and sovereignty of the Roman\nempire. \"It came,\" he observed, \"at a period when no danger was\napprehended; and from the meanness of its appearance, and its\nentire want of the attractions of intelligence or of taste, no\none could calculate on its exciting that commotion, or acquiring\nthat degree of influence over the popular mind, which its history\nrecords, and which we all ought deeply to deplore. To extirpate\nthis fatal heresy, or to arrest it in its destructive course, I\nfear is now impossible; but we ought certainly to be on our guard,\nlest we should accelerate its march, either by that supineness\nwhich neglects to defend the passes, or that neutrality which looks\nwith indifference on the conquests of an enemy, if he leaves us in\nthe undisturbed possession of our own little territory. Though you\ncannot agree with the Rev. Mr. Cole in his opinions on baptismal\nregeneration, I think you must agree with him in his remarks on the\npreposterous conversions which are the boast of our modern fanatics.\nIndeed, what man of learning or of taste can read the periodical\njournals of enthusiasm without feeling disgusted, and if he were not\nthoroughly established in his belief of the Divine origin of our\nholy religion, he must, I think, become a sceptic.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Men of learning and of taste, with some few\nhonourable exceptions, very rarely discover any strong attachment\nfor the humiliating doctrines or the self-denying precepts of that\nholy religion, whose Divine origin they professedly admit. The\nreligion which they admire is not the religion of the Scriptures,\nbut one modified and adapted to their taste and propensities.\nWould the poets or prose writers of modern times, who praise, in\nharmonious numbers or well-turned periods, the religion of their\ncountry, welcome that religion if she were to disengage herself from\nthe attractions of the mitre, and the associations of sacred altars\nand antique buildings, and rise up before them in the simplicity\nof her attire, and, with an authoritative voice, as when she first\ndespoiled Greece and Rome of their elegant mythology, demanding from\nthem repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ? If\nshe were to speak to them of sin, of their sins, she would excite\nthe smile of ridicule; if she were to urge on them the necessity of\nrepentance, lest they perish, she would provoke their contempt; and\nif she were to require from them that faith in the Lord Jesus Christ\nwhich by its own reaction purifies and ennobles the human soul,\nshe would be despised and rejected, no less than the enthusiasm of\nMethodism. But though the Rev. Mr. Cole reprobated, in very strong\nterms, the preposterous conversions of the fanatics of modern times,\nhe did not, I believe, deny the necessity of conversion, nor say\nthat it was impossible.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"O no, he gave us the following quotation from\nthe excellent and judicious tract[14] which the justly celebrated\nDr. Mant has published on the question: 'Conversion, according to\nour notions, may not improperly be said to consist of a rational\nconviction of sin, and sense of its wickedness and danger; of\na sincere penitence and sorrow of heart at having incurred the\ndispleasure of a holy God; of steadfast purposes of amendment\nwith the blessing of the Divine grace; of a regular and diligent\nemployment of all the appointed means of grace; and of a real\nchange of heart and life, of affections and conduct, and a resolute\nperseverance in well-doing.' And I may quote the next paragraph from\nthis judicious tract, which says, 'The triumph of such conversion as\nthis is not attended by alternations of extreme joy and despondency,\nof the most ecstatic rapture and the most gloomy despair; sometimes\nby heavenly exultation, and sometimes by the agonies of hell. It has\nlittle of what is brilliant and dazzling to decorate, little of what\nis magnificent and imposing to dignify and exalt it.'\"\n\n  [14] The reader is referred to two tracts on Regeneration and\n  Conversion, published by Dr. Mant, and circulated by the Society for\n  the Promotion of Christian Knowledge.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"When I first read that tract, I very much admired\nit, and I have circulated many hundreds, thinking that it would\ncheck the progress of evangelical sentiments; but, on a recent\nperusal of it, I felt much astonished when I recollected the\nsatisfaction and the pleasure which it once afforded me; and I fear\nthat, by giving it circulation, I have assisted in perpetuating the\ndelusion under which such a large proportion of all ranks in society\nare advancing to the eternal world. I certainly do not object to\nhis definition of conversion; but the highly-wrought reflections\nwhich you have just quoted, are, in my opinion, an impeachment of\nthe accuracy of his reasoning and of the fervour of his piety. If\nthey have any meaning, they are intended to prove that the _gentle_\nexcitement of the passions constitutes a legitimate evidence of\nconversion; but if the passions should be _strongly_ excited--if\nthey should _overflow_, and dare to wet the couch of a penitent\nwith the fast-dropping tear--if they should touch on the borders\nof the joy which is unspeakable and full of glory--or if they ever\nshould sink into despondency, or rise to a hope full of immortality,\nthen they change their character, and become, not the evidences\nof conversion, but of fanaticism. I object to such a statement as\nunphilosophical, and calculated to produce the very evil it is\nintended to prevent. Two men, whose mental temperament varies from\ncool apathy to the highest degree of a nervous sensibility, may\nsincerely repent of having, by their sins, incurred the displeasure\nof God; but to suppose, with Dr. Mant, that they will both feel in\nthe same exact proportion, and that proportion the lowest possible\ndegree of excitement, would be to betray consummate ignorance of the\nconstitution of the human mind. These two men, who feel a degree\nof sorrow for sin, and of joy for the promise of forgiveness, that\naccords with the exact susceptibility of their nature, are placed by\nthe _judicious_ Dr. Mant in very opposite columns--the one amongst\nthe sincere penitents, the other amongst the deluded fanatics. But\nthis is not the only absurdity which such a classification involves;\nfor it necessarily tends to plunge the man of strong passions into\ndespair, because he feels too acutely, while it keeps the man of\nmore moderate passions in a state of uncertainty, lest he should not\nhave felt quite enough.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But will you not admit that the annals of\nMethodism record many instances of extravagant feeling, which\nneither a reference to the varying temperament of the mind, nor the\nsober language of Holy Writ, will account for or justify; such as\nextremes of weeping and of laughter, sobs, and shrieks, and groans,\nand wailing, and gnashing of teeth--the voice now stifled by agony,\nand now bursting forth in tones of despair; tremors, and faintings,\nand droppings to the ground, as if struck by lightning; paleness\nand torpor, convulsions and contortions; things terrible to behold,\ntoo terrible to be borne, and which words cannot describe. Can you\nsuppose that such scenes are the effect of Divine truth producing a\nrational conviction of sin, and a keen sense of its wickedness and\ndanger? are they not rather the consequences of fanaticism?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The symptoms which you have enumerated are sometimes\napparent, I have no doubt, even when the _heart_ is untouched by\nthe subduing power of the grace of God, and may be referred to the\nstrong excitement of the animal passions, when stirred up from their\ndormant state by the impassioned eloquence of the preacher; but at\nother times we may regard them as the visible and audible signs\nof a genuine conversion to God, the utterances of a soul at the\nperiod of its new birth, when in the act of passing from death to\nlife. And though I should prefer the truth being felt and received\ninto the heart in the calm of composed and silent listening, yet I\nwould rather see an entire congregation bathed in tears, sobbing,\nand even groaning aloud, while their minister is addressing them on\nthe sublime and awful realities of the eternal world, than witness\nthat apathetic indifference which is so generally apparent--a\nlistlessness which is something like a judicial insensibility.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I admit that there is too much apparent\nindifference in our congregations to the sermons of the clergy; but\nthere may be a strong undercurrent of emotion, even when there are\nno floods. But to revert to what I call the extravagant symptoms of\nfeeling in connection with Methodism, the line of distinction which\nyou have drawn between the causes to which we may refer them may be\nsubstantially correct; but I presume you do not intend to maintain\nthat they are ever, even in the most sober and modified degree, the\nnecessary accompaniments of conversion?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"No, certainly not; but if there be sorrow in the\nheart for having incurred the displeasure of a holy God, ought we\nto be surprised if the eye be suffused with tears? and if there\nbe a rational conviction of the danger to which the commission of\nsin exposes us, ought we to be surprised if the breast heave with\ntumultuous swellings of alarm and dread? Shall an apprehension of\ndeserved wrath awaken no terror? or a hope of redeeming love inspire\nno joy? Why, a man must be metamorphosed into some other being, not\nto have his passions stirred, from the very depth of his soul, when\nsuch awful and transporting scenes are passing before his mental\nvision.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I am astonished that any clergyman should condemn\nthe strong and visible excitement of the passions at the period\nof conversion, when there are so many passages in the Scriptures\nwhich attest it. The writer of the book of Proverbs says, 'The\nspirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a _wounded spirit\nwho can bear_?' And if a deep wound be inflicted on the soul\nof man, which he is incapable of healing or of enduring, shall we\nturn round upon him and aggravate the intensity of his anguish,\nby employing the strong symptoms of his grief as evidences either\nof insanity or fanaticism? The impiety of such an act would be no\nless censurable than its cruelty. And does not the prophet tell us\nthat when the Spirit of grace is poured out on the inhabitants of\nJerusalem, that 'they shall look upon him whom they have pierced,\nand they shall mourn for him, as one mourneth for his only son, and\nshall be in bitterness for him, as one that is in bitterness for his\nfirst-born.' This prediction was fulfilled when the three thousand\n_were pricked in their heart_, and cried out at the close of Peter's\naddress, _Men and brethren, what shall we do_? And shall the charge\nof fanatical extravagance and delusion be brought against these\nprimitive converts, because they cried out, and asked aloud, in the\nhearing of all the people, what they should do to escape from the\nwrath they had deserved?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Mr. Cole admitted that the penitents in\nformer times were sometimes extravagantly affected, because their\nconversion was miraculous, but he maintained, and I think very\nsatisfactorily, that there are no _instantaneous conversions in\nmodern times--the thing is impossible_. If you recollect, he proved\nthat the instantaneous conversions recorded in the Scriptures were\neffected by the force of miracles, but as these have ceased, men\nmust be wrought on now by the more slow process of argument and\npersuasion; and he supported his opinion by the following quotation\nfrom Dr. Mant: 'When the conversion was sudden or instantaneous, it\nwas the consequence of miraculous evidence to the truth. When the\npreaching of Peter on the day of Pentecost added to the church three\nthousand souls, they were men who had been amazed and confounded\nby the effusion of the Holy Ghost, and the supernatural gift of\ntongues.'\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, they were confounded and amazed when they heard\nthe apostles speaking in different languages, but this miracle, so\nfar from effecting their conversion, merely excited the ridicule\nof many, who, mocking, said, 'These men are full of new wine.' But\nafter they had listened to Peter's discourse, they were 'pricked\nin their heart, and then said unto Peter, and to the rest of the\napostles, men and brethren, what shall we do?' Miracles attested\nthe Divine mission of the apostles, _but it was the truth_ which\nthe apostles preached that became the means of the conversion of\nthe people. And though the miraculous evidences of the apostolic\ncommission have ceased, because they are no longer necessary, yet\nthe truth, which is the instrument of conversion, is preserved pure\nand entire; and when it is faithfully and energetically preached, it\nis still the power of God to salvation. Shall we say that he, who\nhas all power in heaven and earth, cannot, if he please, effect the\nconversion of sinners as suddenly in the present day as in the times\nof the apostles.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"If you recollect, he quoted Dr. Mant to prove\nthe possibility of such sudden conversions. 'Not that I would be\nunderstood to assert that Providence may not, _perhaps_, even in\nthe present day, be sometimes pleased to interpose in a manner\nmore awful and impressive than is agreeable to the ordinary course\nof his proceedings, and to arrest the sinner in his career of\ninfidelity or wickedness, and to turn him from darkness to light.'\nWhat he maintained was, that these sudden conversions are not to be\nexpected by the clergy who preach to Christian congregations, which\nare composed of those who have been trained up in the belief of\nChristianity.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have no doubt that many who have been trained\nup in the belief of Christianity have, in the process of their\ntraining, felt its moral influence in producing repentance towards\nGod, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, though they may not\nknow the time when they first felt its power in enlightening and\nrenewing them, or when they passed from death unto life. The whole\nprocess of their conversion has been conducted so silently and so\ngradually--they have been led on by such imperceptible steps from\none degree of knowledge and of grace to another, and it has been\nwith so much hesitating precaution that they have embraced the\nconsolatory promises of mercy--that they have erected no monumental\npillars to commemorate any great moral revolution in their\ncharacter, nor placed any sacred landmarks by which their progress\nin the life of faith can be traced. But are your congregations\ncomposed exclusively of this description of hearers? No; you may\nsometimes see all the varieties of the human character sitting\naround you when you are in the pulpit; the Sabbath-breaker, the\nswearer, the debauchee, the seducer, the scoffer, and the mere\nformalist in religion. Must not these persons be converted before\nthey can enter the kingdom of heaven? And how is their conversion\nto be effected? You employ your arguments to convince them of the\nDivine origin of Christianity, and they _are_ convinced of it,\nbut still go on in a course of sin. You employ the force of moral\nsuasion to induce them to turn from iniquity to righteousness,\nbut such is the fatal obduracy of their hearts, that it makes no\nimpression. What can you do now to insure success?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, if people will not be converted by\nargument or persuasion, they must take the consequences upon\nthemselves. I don't know anything more that can be done. We must\nleave them to take their own course, and if they perish, we can't\nhelp it. They doom themselves to perdition.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But if you read the New Testament with close\nattention, you will perceive that there is a power associated with\na faithful and enlightened ministry, which makes it not the letter\nof instruction merely, but the spirit which giveth life. Did not\nthe Saviour, when he gave the apostles their commission, say, 'Lo\nI am with you always, even to the end of the world?' Is it not to\nhis immediate presence with the first preachers of the gospel, that\nthe sacred historian everywhere ascribes the signal success which\ncrowned their labours, and not to the force of miracles? If a great\nmultitude at Antioch turned to the Lord, it was because the hand\nof the Lord was with them; if Lydia believed in consequence of\ngiving attention to the things which were spoken, it was because\nthe Lord opened her heart; if Paul planted, and Apollos watered\nwith success, it was the Lord who gave the increase; and highly as\nthey were endowed, they did not presume to rely on the efficacy of\ntheir own addresses, or the force of the miraculous attestations\nof their own mission, but confessed that it was through God that\nthey became mighty and triumphant in all their ministerial labours.\nIf, then, his presence is associated with a faithful ministry, and\nthe apostles invariably ascribed their success to the concurring\ntestimony of his power, and if he promise to be with his ministers\nthrough every succeeding age, ought you to overlook it? Will you\nboast of your uninterrupted succession in the ministerial office\nfrom the times of the apostles, while you undervalue the importance\nof the presence of the Lord to give success to your official\nlabours? or do you suppose that now Christianity is grown venerable\nby her age, she can turn men from darkness to light--from the power\nof Satan to God--without the concurring testimony of that Almighty\npower on which she relied in the days of her youthful vigour?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"These quotations and references undoubtedly\nprove that our Saviour must give the success to our ministry; but\nI think it would be very injudicious to state such a fact to our\ncongregations.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why so?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Because it would lower the clergy in their\nestimation if we were to say that we are not invested with a\nplenitude of power to accomplish the design of our appointment, and\nmight lead the people to wait for a miraculous conversion, instead\nof trying for it in the regularly appointed way.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then you must admit that the writers of the\nScriptures, who wrote under the plenary inspiration of the Holy\nSpirit, _acted a very injudicious part, and have set us a very\nimproper example_, as they have placed the fact of their personal\ninsufficiency, and their entire dependence on their invisible Lord,\nin a prominent point of view. Indeed, the consequences of such an\nadmission would be alarming, as in that case we should be compelled\nto pass a censure on the wisdom of the Divine Spirit for allowing\nsuch facts to be placed on record, if they are calculated to produce\na pernicious effect on the popular mind. It is evident to me, from\nyour last remarks, that you, in common with all the clergy of the\nanti-evangelical school, have imbibed some very fatal errors, which\nmust render your ministrations worse than useless; must, in fact,\nrender them pernicious, because deceptive, both to yourselves and to\nyour people.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"And do you really think so? This certainly\nis a very grave imputation on our order, and one which ought not\nto be advanced unless you can maintain its correctness, with an\narray of very clear evidence. Why, you now insinuate that we are\nself-deceived, and are deceiving others. What proof can you bring of\nthis?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Your first error, and it is a capital one, is the\nself-sufficiency of the clergy to accomplish the design of their\nappointment. This may be true, if we view them merely as appointed\nby human authority to conduct a prescribed service and administer\nthe sacraments. This you can do. But the more spiritual functions\nof the ministry you cannot perform by virtue of a self-sufficient\npower.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"To what spiritual functions do you refer?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, to the conversion and spiritual renovation\nof sinners, and the administration of effective consolation to a\nwounded spirit. If any order of ministers, under the Christian\ndispensation, ever possessed the power of doing this, we must admit\nthat the apostles of our Lord possessed it in a pre-eminent degree.\nBut they disclaimed the possession of such a self-sufficient power,\nand acknowledged their absolute dependence on the concurring grace\nof God, and the fervent and effectual prayers of their pious lay\nbrethren. The apostle Paul, when trying to allay the ferment which\nthe spirit of contention had raised in the church of Corinth, and\nto detach the people from the popular idols of their admiration and\nconfidence, speaks out boldly and explicitly on the question of\nministerial insufficiency and dependence: 'For while one saith, I\nam of Paul; and another, I am of Apollos; are ye not carnal? Who\nthen is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom ye believed,\neven as the Lord gave to every man? I have planted, Apollos watered;\n_but God gave the increase_. _So then neither is he that planteth\nany thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the\nincrease_' (1 Cor. iii. 4-7). We know that opinion has a powerful\ninfluence in the formation and development of character, and in no\norder of men does it operate with more direct and constant force\nthan on the clergy; hence, if a clergyman thinks he is invested with\na plenitude of power to accomplish the design of his appointment, he\nwill live in a state of comparative, if not absolute independence\nof God: he will not be a man of prayer; I mean, he will not wrestle\nin prayer with God, to render his public ministry successful in the\nconversion of sinners; _such a thing will not come into his mind_.\nHe thinks of himself more as a priest in the church, than as a\nminister of Christ, labouring for the spiritual good of the people.\nHis self-sufficiency, which keeps him independent of God, tends to\ninflate him with spiritual pride; he becomes arrogant, and expects\nthat the people will place themselves in submissive subjection\nto his authority--believe what he dictates, and celebrate what\nhe prescribes. But when, like Paul and the rest of the apostles,\na clergyman has a piercing conviction of his insufficiency to\nexecute the trust committed to his charge, he will never enter a\npulpit to preach till he has been in his closet with God--praying\nfor assistance from him, and for the putting forth of his Divine\npower, through the medium of his otherwise ineffective agency. His\nopinion of himself, his feelings, and his retired devout exercises,\nall harmonize with the following quotation, which I will now read\nto you: 'Forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle\nof Christ ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the\nSpirit of the living God; not in tables of stone, but in fleshly\ntables of the heart. Who also hath made us able ministers of the\nnew testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter\nkilleth but the spirit giveth life' (2 Cor. iii. 3, 6). And while\nsuch a clergyman will depend on God for the success of his labours,\nrather than on any conceived self-sufficiency, he will also, in\nimitation of the apostles, place a subordinate degree of dependence\non the fervent prayers of his believing brethren. 'Finally,\nbrethren,' says Paul, who could work miracles to attest the Divine\norigin of the message he delivered to the people, 'pray for us, that\nthe word of the Lord may have free course, and be glorified, even as\nit is with you' (2 Thess. iii. 1).\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"And what is the second error which you think we\nhold?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, you teach the people to depend on you for\nspiritual blessings, instead of directing them to look to God, from\nwhom cometh every good gift, and every perfect gift; hence, they\ncome to church, go through the order of the service, and withdraw\nwhen it is over, more like self-moving machines, whose movements\nare regulated by laws imposed on them by human skill and authority,\nthan like intelligent beings, who feel their responsibility to\nGod, and their dependence on him. And this is the great practical\nevil which is inflicted on the people, by the clergy assuming to\nthemselves a sufficiency of power to accomplish all the purposes\nof their ministry--their hearers are not a praying people. Now, to\nme nothing is more obvious, if I take the meaning of the uniform\nlanguage of the Bible, than this great important fact, that prayer\non the part of a minister and his hearers, is made essential to\ntheir spiritual prosperity and happiness. Hence, after the promise\nof a new spirit and a new heart was given, to excite the eager\nexpectation of the people of Israel: 'Thus saith the Lord God, I\nwill yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it\nfor them' (Ezek. xxxvi. 37). Hence the importance and necessity of\nprayer. Can we expect forgiveness unless we pray for it? and is not\nthe moral renovation of our nature of equal importance? and if, in\nthe economy of salvation, we are to be sanctified by the Spirit of\nGod as well as justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, are we to\nbe reprobated as deluded when we invoke his purifying agency? Let\nus look around us, and what shall we see? What!--a scene not less\naffecting than that which struck the eye of the prophet when he\nreceived his commission from above to enter the mystic valley of\ndeath. It was full of bones: 'And, behold, there were very many in\nthe open valley; and, lo, they were very dry.' He was asked, 'Can\nthese dry bones live?' and he answered, 'O Lord God, thou knowest.'\nWhat did he do? He prophesied as he was _commanded_; and when thus\nengaged, the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they lived. If,\nthen, the ministers of grace wish to accomplish the great moral\ndesign of their appointment, and acquire the deathless honour of\nrescuing sinners from that state of guilt, degeneracy, and misery in\nwhich they are involved, let them preach the gospel in a clear and\nin a faithful manner, teaching them that every good thought, every\nholy desire, every sacred principle, must proceed directly from the\nFather of mercies, and God of all grace; and that, while they are\nemployed as his servants, in administering the revelation of his\nwill, if any good results from their labours, it must be in _answer\nto the humble and fervent prayers of those who proclaim and those\nwho hear the truth_.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"The clergy have fallen very low in your\nestimation.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The Tractarian clergy have. They sink themselves\nby their arrogance, and lofty assumptions of official dignity and\npower; they are haughty and overbearing, and have no resemblance in\ntheir spirit, or in their style of speech, to the prophets of the\nOld Testament or the apostles of the New; and if not an importation\nfrom Rome, they are in training to serve at her altars, and advocate\nher assumed infallibility.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE TENDENCY OF EVANGELICAL PREACHING.\n\n\nIn his brother the Rev. Mr. Roscoe met with a more formidable\nantagonist than he expected; and though foiled in some previous\nencounters, yet he again resumed the debate.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I wonder how you can object to the strictures\nwhich the Rev. Mr. Cole made in his sermon last Sunday, on the\ncensurable conduct of those clergymen who declaim against good\nworks, and exalt a dogmatic belief in certain crude opinions as the\nonly necessary condition on which sinners can obtain the forgiveness\nof Almighty God.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"As I have not been in the habit of hearing many\nof the evangelical clergy preach, I certainly cannot say from my\nown personal knowledge how far the charge which you allege against\nthem is just or unfounded. If they do declaim against good works,\nthey are guilty of a serious dereliction of duty, and should not\nreceive the sanction of any wise or good man. I agree with you,\nthat this is not the age in which virtue, in any of her forms or\nrequirements, should be made light of, especially by those who are\nprofessedly her ministers. For if they, who ought to stop up the\npasses to evil, turn their weapons of war against the bulwarks of\npractical righteousness, the common enemy will meet with an ally\nwhere he ought to find a foe, and the capital and its dependencies\nwill soon be taken. But though I have not heard many of them preach,\nI have been in the habit of reading their published discourses,\nand it is my opinion that from the press they push the claims of\npractical righteousness to such an extreme, that I have often heard\nthem censured for their excessive strictness; and it is fair to\npresume that they are not less urgent and severe when they are in\nthe pulpit. But admitting, for the sake of the argument, that they\ndo declaim against good works, we know that they practise them; and\ntheir hearers, with some few exceptions, will bear a comparison with\nthe most virtuous members of society.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then you admit that some of their hearers are\nnot men of virtue--hence, does it not necessarily follow that their\nministers preach a doctrine which leads to licentiousness?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But this argument which you employ against the moral\ntendency of evangelical preaching is liable to two very formidable\nobjections--it is fallacious, and it proves too much. It supposes\nthat the conduct of a _minority_ is the test by which the orthodoxy\nof the preacher is to be decided. But why fix on the _minority_ as\nthe test, when their relative number is a tacit proof that they\nare the exception to the general class of his hearers? If a few in\na district are turbulent and factious, and disposed to rebellion,\nwhile the larger proportion of the people are peaceable and\nsubmissive, revering the authority of the laws, and cultivating the\nvirtues of social life, would you recommend the suspension of the\nHabeas Corpus, as though the entire mass were in a state of revolt?\nWhere would be the equity or the expediency of such a measure? Why\nimpugn the character of all because a few are criminal, and why\ninvolve the innocent and the guilty in one indiscriminate visitation\nof punishment? And would not your argument apply with equal, if not\nwith stronger force, to the anti-evangelical clergy? Have they no\nimmoral hearers? Have they none who set at open defiance the laws\nof God and man? Have they no scoffers who visit their temples?--no\ninfidels who commune at their altars? Can they say of all in their\ncongregations, 'Ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of\nChrist ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit\nof the living God'?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But, you know, _we enforce virtue_, and tell\nour hearers that their final salvation depends on their becoming\nvirtuous. This, you will admit, is a more powerful motive than that\nwhich an evangelical preacher employs, who says that we may be saved\nwithout it.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"No, he does not say that we can be saved without\nbecoming virtuous. This is an accusation which cannot be\nsubstantiated; and to bring it forward is to bear false witness\nagainst another. He does not require virtue on our part as a\nprerequisite to recommend us to the favour of God; but he enforces\nit as expressive of our reverence for his authority, and of our\ngratitude to his sovereign goodness in redeeming us from the curse\nof a violated law. He does not substitute our very defective\nrighteousness for the righteousness of Jesus Christ, which would\nbe an entire abandonment of one of the most essential doctrines of\nthe gospel; but he tells us that _the grace of God that bringeth\nsalvation, teaches us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts,\nwe should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present\nworld_. Indeed, the evangelical minister requires, on the part of\nhis adherents, a higher degree of virtue than his opponent, and he\nemploys more powerful motives to enforce it. He requires the entire\nrenovation of the soul, and such a conversion from all the evil\nhabits and impure propensities of our nature, as shall constitute\nus _new creatures in Christ Jesus_. Do you enforce virtue from an\nappeal to the authority of God? so does your evangelical brother.\nDo you enforce it by a reference to its own loveliness, and its\ntendency to promote personal and relative happiness? so does he. But\nhe goes a step further--he presses into the service of the pulpit\nthe motives which arise from the redemption of the soul by the death\nof Christ; and if we look around us, we shall perceive that these\nexert a more powerful influence on the principles and conduct of\nmen, than any other which ever has been or ever can be employed. Men\nwho will resist authority may be subdued by clemency, and many whom\na dread of punishment could not reclaim from evil, have been turned\nfrom the error of their ways after that the kindness and love of God\nour Saviour toward them hath appeared. And then, like the eunuch of\nthe Scriptures, they have gone on their way rejoicing, ever ready to\ngive to others a reason of the hope within them; saying, under the\nimpulse of devout gratitude, rather than vainglorious ostentation,\n'Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he\nhath done for my soul.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"We very well know that those who admire\nevangelical preaching are, generally speaking, more loquacious on\nthe subject of religion, and more religiously disposed in their\nhabits, than others; but this is one of the objections which we have\nagainst it. If _we_ feel _too_ little, _they_ feel _too_ much; and\nif _we_ are not quite so religious in our habits as we ought to be,\n_they_ go to the opposite extreme, and become enthusiasts. _We_ keep\nwithin the boundary which reason and decorum mark out, but _they_\ncross it; and while _we_ restrain our passions, and rarely discuss\nthe awful subjects of religion in our social interviews, _they_\nyield to impulses and excitements, which they rashly ascribe to a\nmental intercourse with an invisible world, and thus they approach\nto the very verge of fanaticism.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But surely you do not object to a person who has\nfelt the renewing power of the grace of God, ascribing the great\nchange to its real cause, expressing at the same time his joyful\ngratitude to God for effecting it.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"What I dislike and condemn is the strong\neffervescence of feeling which so often makes its appearance amongst\nthe admirers of evangelical preaching, and which leads them to use\nterms of expression which are more nearly allied to rhapsody than\nsober truth and reality.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"You know that, on all subjects, men speak as they\nfeel; and therefore, when their passions are strongly excited by\nreligious truth, they ought not to be condemned or censured if\nthey do give utterance to some expressions which may appear rather\nextravagant to an apathetic mind; they speak naturally, that is,\nin character. Let me give you an example. Can a man of a refined\ntaste, and who is very excitable, avoid being deeply interested\nby the sublime or beautiful in the natural, or by the pathetic or\ntragical in the moral world? No. It is impossible. He is affected\nbefore he is conscious of feeling, and often when he is incapable of\nassigning the cause of it. To argue that this liability to strong\nexcitement is a proof of the imbecility of our mind, or of our\ntendency to fanatical illusions, is nothing less than a begging of\nthe question--a species of artifice which cannot be tolerated. Our\nnature is liable to excitement, and we cannot avoid it. It is, upon\nthe whole, considered a favourable symptom of a fine taste or a good\ndisposition. We prefer it to stoicism, to apathy, and to a mental\ndulness, which neither harmonious sounds nor enchanting scenes can\nmove. If, then, our passions are necessarily stirred within us, and\nsometimes powerfully stirred by external objects, by what law is it\nrendered improper for a man to be deeply affected by the momentous\ntruths of revelation? Does the law of our nature forbid it? No. You\nyourself have confessed that the admirers of evangelical preaching\nare in general strongly, too strongly affected by what they believe.\nTo strip your charges of the measured language in which they are\nbrought, do you mean to say that they are too deeply affected by\nthe awful descriptions which the sacred writers have given us of\nthe miseries of the damned; or too strongly animated by the sublime\nanticipations of a blissful immortality; or too grateful to the Lord\nof glory for bearing their sins in his own body on the tree; and\ntoo intense in their desires after a more perfect conformity to the\npurity of the Divine nature? But is this possible?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"We certainly cannot love Almighty God too\nmuch, nor can we be too grateful to him for his mercies, temporal\nand spiritual; but when we are speaking to each other about our\nreligious feelings, I think, as the apostle says, we should let our\nmoderation be known.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But, to speak naturally, we should speak as we\nfeel. I remember a poor woman of the name of Allen, who often used\nto perplex me when we conversed together on religious topics; she\nalways left a vague impression on my mind that there was a something\nin religion which I had never discovered.\"\n\n\"I am fully convinced,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, apologizing for\nobtruding her remarks, \"that those who embrace evangelical\nsentiments are more religious in their conversation and habits\nthan those who do not. But it is at the awful hour of death that\nthe difference becomes the more apparent and striking. We had a\nservant, a member of a Dissenting chapel, who lived with us some\nyears, but when she was taken ill she left us to go to her father, a\npoor pious man, with whom she resided for several months before she\ndied. I often went to see her, and was standing by her side when she\nbreathed her last. She was composed and even cheerful in prospect\nof death, but it was the cheerfulness of a spirit made happy by the\nconsolations of religion, and which expected to be still happier\nin the celestial world.[15] I recollect asking her what made her\nso happy when death was so near, and her reply, though I did not\nthen, and do not yet comprehend its full import, made such a strong\nimpression, that I have never forgotten it--'His sweet promise,\n_Come unto me, and I will give you rest_. I do come to him; he has\ngiven me rest of soul; and he has provided a rest for me in heaven.\nAnd you, dear Madam, must come to him to be saved and made happy.'\"\n\n  [15] The author once knew a lady who was celebrated, in the town\n  in which she lived, no less for her benevolence, than she was for\n  her utter dislike to those persons who had embraced evangelical\n  sentiments. She generally used to term them, by way of reproach,\n  Methodists, enthusiasts, or fanatics. For many years she was in the\n  habit of visiting the poor and the infirm, sympathizing with them\n  when in trouble, giving them money to purchase the necessaries and\n  comforts of life; and she originated several public institutions,\n  which still remain as the memorial of her practical goodness. Often\n  has she sat beside the lingering sufferer, wiping away the cold\n  sweats of death, and administering, with her own hands, the last\n  portion of food or of medicine which nature consented to receive.\n  This lady, when conversing with a friend, whose prejudices against\n  the fanatics of the day (as the disciples of the Redeemer are\n  styled) ran as high as her own, said, \"_I don't know how to account\n  for it, but I find these people know more about religion than we do,\n  and appear more happy in their dying moments than any others I ever\n  meet with_.\" Happy would it have been for her if some friend had\n  been present to explain the cause of it; but no--living under the\n  sombrous gloom of a pharisaical faith, which admits not of the clear\n  light of the truth, she lived in ignorance of the nature of faith in\n  Christ, and in ignorance she died.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It is now about twelve months since I was travelling\nwith an eminent physician. Our conversation happened to turn on\nthe state of religion in the country, and on the evangelical and\nanti-evangelical clergy and laity of our own church; when he stated\nthat, in the discharge of his professional duties, he was often\ncalled to witness the termination of human life--the retiring of the\nactors from the busy stage--the departure of intelligent beings from\none world to another--and that he had uniformly found, that those\nwho imbibe evangelical sentiments die much more like the Christians\nof the Bible than those who do not. He gave it as the result of long\nexperience, that evangelical religion, though much despised, is\ngreatly conducive to the happiness of man, especially in his last\nmoments. This fact produced a deep impression on my mind, as he said\nit had done on his.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes; the imagination, when acted upon by\nevangelical opinions and impulses, very often holds a pretended\nintercourse with Heaven, and sees sights and hears sounds which are\nsupernatural; but are we so far gone from the sober restraints of\nreason as to become the advocates of enthusiastic raptures?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I am not surprised at what you say, as I once\nused to talk in a similar strain, but now, blessed be the God and\nFather of our Lord Jesus Christ, the delusion has vanished, and I\nam convinced that what I then called, and what you still call the\nraptures of a disordered imagination, are the triumphs of faith over\nthe terrors of death; and that the glowing expressions which often\nfall from the lips of the dying believer are entirely in accordance\nwith the genius of the gospel.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have no doubt but such strongly excitable\npersons will be saved, if they are sincere.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"And why should you doubt their sincerity? If you\nsee a man devoting his mind to the pursuits of commerce, or of\nliterature, or of pleasure, you do not feel at liberty to impugn\nhis motives; then why should you do so when you see him devoting\nhis mind to religion? Is religion the only subject which we are\nforbidden to approach? or if we do approach it with reverence for\nits authority, with ardent gratitude for its sacred communications,\nwith strong interest in its sublime enunciations of a future state\nof existence, are we to be reproached for insincerity and hypocrisy?\nYou accuse us of ostentation, because we make a more decided\nprofession of religion than some of our neighbours; but allow me to\nask you if the spirit in which this charge originates has not exuded\nits venom against pure and undefiled religion in every age of the\nChristian church, when it has been embodied in a living character?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, you know that some who have made the\ngreatest pretensions to religion, have been guilty of the most\ndishonourable conduct!\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, I know it; and I confess that the inconsistent\nconduct of some professors of religion induced me, for many years,\nto cherish very unfavourable opinions against all who embraced\nevangelical sentiments; but I am now satisfied that I acted neither\nwisely nor equitably. Because one member of a family, or ten members\nof a religious community, act inconsistently with their professions\nto each other, am I at liberty to condemn the whole?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But you will admit that it is calculated to\nexcite suspicion.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It may excite suspicion where an evil passion or\nwhere prejudice has gained the ascendency, but not otherwise. I\nmaintain that the law of equity forbids our suspecting the sincerity\nand uprightness of any man until he gives us a cause for doing so.\nAm I to suspect the honour, the integrity, and the friendship of Mr.\nStevens, because some one who goes to the same church, and professes\nthe same religious opinions, has been guilty of fraud, or sacrificed\nhis honour by attempting to wound the reputation of his friend?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But when people make a greater profession than\ntheir neighbours, it is natural for us to expect more exemplary\nconduct.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Certainly; and if they are not exemplary in their\nconduct you may impeach their sincerity; but you ought to confine\nthe act of impeachment to the offender--to extend it to others would\nbe unjust. If a professor of religion run to the same excess of\nriot as others--if he press to your theatres--if he visit your card\nparties or your balls--you may very justly reproach him; _but if he\ndo not_, such is the fastidious and antichristian spirit of the age,\nyou think it strange, and begin to speak evil of him. If he act in\ndirect opposition to his religious principles, you charge him with\nhypocrisy; if he act in conformity with them, he is subjected to the\nsame imputation, with this essential difference in his favour--that\nthe first accusation would be just, while the latter would be\ngroundless.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"I very much dislike indiscriminate and\nwholesale accusations. We ought not to censure one person on account\nof the imperfections of another; nor insinuate a charge against any\none, unless we have strong evidence to sustain it.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"Very just, aunt, but such is the practice of this\nstrange world; and though we protest against it, yet we can obtain\nno redress. When one who has been gay becomes pious, the _magicians_\nprophesy that he will go off into a state of derangement; if he\nretains his reason, as is usually the case, they express a _devout_\nwish that the motives of his conduct may prove to be sincere; if\nhe act in accordance with his religious principles, and refuse to\nconform to their customs and habits, he is stigmatized as unsocial,\nprecise, and hypocritical; and such is the degree of virulence which\ngoes forth against him, that if no imperfections can be discovered\nin his character, some will be imputed; and if no rumours come from\nthe north to blast or tarnish his reputation, they are easily raised\nat home by the magic wand of calumny.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"I am quite weary of this censorious spirit,\nits bitterness and its sarcasms. I would willingly contribute\ntowards raising five hundred pounds, as a prize for the best essay\non the antichristian character of this evil spirit, and the most\neffectual means by which it can be exorcised from amongst us.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"And so would I, dear aunt; I am sure we could\nraise the money, if we could get a first-rate pious writer to give\nus the book.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Courtesy requires that I yield the point to\nthe ladies, who, to their honour, generally take the part of the\naccused; but (addressing his brother) I still believe that the\noffer of an unconditional salvation to men of every description of\ncharacter is very hazardous to the interests of public and private\nvirtue.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But the evangelical clergy do not, if I judge from\ntheir written discourses, make that unconditional offer which you\nsuppose. They require repentance towards God, before they inculcate\nfaith in the Lord Jesus Christ. They require that we should forsake\nour sins, before they encourage us to hope for mercy. And then the\nfaith which they inculcate is not a mere philosophical assent to\nthe truth of Christianity, which may leave the evil passions and\npropensities of the mind unsubdued, but such a faith as shall, by\nits own reaction, purify the imagination, overcome the allurements\nand fascinations of the world, and work that conformity of soul\nto the purity of the Divine nature, which forms the great line of\ndistinction between a real and a nominal Christian; between one who\nis born of the flesh, and one who is born of the Spirit; between\nthe natural man, in whose estimation the things of the Spirit of\nGod are foolishness, and the spiritual man, who discerns them in\nall their simplicity and relationships. You talk of a conditional\nsalvation; but if you intend by that phrase that we are required to\ndo something by which we are to merit the favour of God and a seat\nin his celestial kingdom, you hold an opinion which is opposed to\nthe Scriptures and destructive to human happiness; for who can tell\nwhen he has acquired that exact degree of virtue which will justify\nhis claim? Indeed, my brother, we ought always to remember that\nwe are sinners--that in the most improved state of our character\nwe are yet imperfect--that after all the acts of obedience which\nwe may perform, we are unprofitable servants--and that if we are\never saved, as I hope we shall be, it will not be _for our own\nworks or deservings_, as the articles of our church declare, but\nby grace, 'For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not\nof yourselves: it is the gift of God' (Eph. ii. 8). Considering\nthe indifference which is so generally manifested by persons of\nall ranks, and of every character, to the momentous truth on which\nthe final and eternal destiny of the soul depends, and the fearful\ninroads which the worst of principles are making amongst the morals\nof social life; considering the rapidity with which the fashion of\nthis world is passing away, and how soon we shall all be called to\nappear before the judgment-seat of Christ; instead of repressing\nany ardent passion for religion, we ought to cherish it; and should\ncontemplate the secession of one sinner, who withdraws from the\ndeluded and infatuated multitude to repent and to pray, with a\nkindred feeling to that of the spirits of the invisible world, of\nwhom our Lord says, that 'likewise joy shall be in heaven over one\nsinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons\nwhich need no repentance.'\"\n\nThe conversation was here interrupted by some of the party moving\nto the parlour window; when Mr. Roscoe said to his brother, \"There\nis, I see, a gentleman coming up the carriage drive, one of your\nown order, who is a living witness that regeneration is something\nessentially different from water baptism, and quite independent of\nit; and also that a person of the purest virtue requires a Mediator\nand a Saviour, no less than the most profane and worthless.\"\n\n\"Who is the gentleman?\"\n\n\"The Rev. Mr. Guion, the rector of Norton.\"[16]\n\n  [16] See page 78.\n\n\"I have heard of him, and I am told that he is a man of great\nattainments.\"\n\n\"His learning is great. He is a most eloquent preacher; and he is\nevangelical.\"\n\nMr. Guion was now ushered into the parlour, accompanied by Mrs.\nStevens; the ceremony of introduction was soon over, and the parties\nvery soon began to be acquainted. After some desultory conversation,\nthe Rev. Mr. Roscoe (addressing himself to Mr. Guion) said, \"I had\nthe honour of making the acquaintance of two ladies, who are, I\nbelieve, members of your cure, the Misses Brownjohn. I met them at\nBuxton last autumn; I hope they are quite well.\"\n\n\"They are, I believe, very well; but just now they are involved in a\nvexatious perplexity.\"\n\n\"Nothing very painful, I hope.\"\n\nWhy, the case is this; they had a nephew who left England for the\nEast Indies when they were little girls. No tidings were heard of\nhim for many years; but about twelve months ago, intelligence of his\ndeath arrived, and he died, it appears, without a will, and very\nwealthy. There have been a few claimants to his property, but the\ntwo ladies in question are judged by many to be the next of kin, and\nthey have commenced proceedings; but there is a mortifying hitch in\nthe progress of their suit, for, on searching the parish register,\nthere is no record either of their birth or their baptism.\"\n\n\"These old records used to be kept in a most shameful way. I don't\nwonder to hear of their vexatious perplexity.\"\n\n\"It is a little amusing to see how differently the two ladies\nare affected by this unlucky discovery. Miss Dorothy is in high\ndudgeon, because the non-production of the document arrests her\nprogress towards the possession of a large fortune. But Miss Susan\nis most affected, by its cutting her off from the prospect of going\nto heaven, believing, as she does, that no other than baptismal\nregeneration is necessary or even possible; but now, for want of\na fair copy of her registration, she has no legitimate proof that\nshe is born again, even though she has a faint recollection of her\ngodfather and godmother.\"\n\n\"What course of procedure do they intend to adopt to obviate the\nevils resulting from the non-registration of these two events--birth\nand baptism?\"\n\n\"Miss Dorothy has employed a very clever solicitor, who is drawing\nup her case to lay before counsel, caring but little about her\nbaptism if she can succeed in getting at the money; while Miss Susan\ncares nought about the money in comparison with her spiritual\nbirth. She thinks that her confirmation, which she distinctly\nremembers, and the trouble she has often been put to by the week's\npreparation for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, will all prove\nof no avail, for want of this fair copy of her registration. She has\ncalled into requisition the official aid of the bishop's secretary,\nto lay her case before his lordship; and with her the point of\nvexatious perplexity is, who shall now regenerate her, to fit her\nfor heaven, if she can't prove that the thing has been done. She\nwon't let me do it, because I am an evangelical; and she fears the\nbishop won't give his sanction to its being done by a clergyman with\nwhom she sustains no ecclesiastical relationship. However, she has\nmade up her mind on this point, so I hear, that if the bishop thinks\nit is necessary she should be baptized, and if he won't give his\nsanction for her to go into another parish to be born again, she\nwill break up her establishment, and become a parishioner at Aston,\nand then the Rev. Mr. Cole will do the thing properly.\"\n\n\"This case of Miss Susan Brownjohn,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe,\naddressing her husband, \"upsets, according to my thinking, your\ndoctrine of baptismal regeneration; for it is monstrous to imagine\nthat the Almighty will make a person's fitness for heaven depend on\nthe fidelity of a parish registrar, who is often a stupid fellow,\nand sometimes more partial to his cups than to doing his duties.\"\n\nWith this half-grave and half-comic remark the colloquy ended, and\nthe party separated, some going one way and some another, but all in\na very good humour.\n\n\"Your aunt,\" said Mr. Guion, as he was bidding adieu to Miss Roscoe,\n\"has a rich vein of satire imbedded in her mental stratum.\"\n\n\"True, Sir, but I believe there is a new formation progressing, of\nmore sterling worth; a discovery made very recently.\"\n\n\"Indeed! This is joyful intelligence. Such discoveries are made by\nangelic spirits, who care nought about any other formations of our\nearth; and when made, they kindle into celestial rapture.\"\n\n\"And we can participate in their joy.\"\n\n\"Your papa,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe to her niece, as they were\npromenading in the garden, \"is a powerful reasoner; his arguments\nseem to me quite irresistible.\"\n\n\"He is,\" my dear aunt, \"a spiritually enlightened man; and he not\nonly understands what he believes, but he feels its power.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" my dear Sophia, \"I feel dark and bewildered; and I know\nnot what to do to gain mental peace. O how I long for some rays of\nthat celestial light which has illumined his mind and yours. The\nincipient thoughts of my heart, which have long been nestling there,\nare becoming powerful convictions; and force me to believe that\nthere is a reality in our common faith, which you and your father\nhave discovered, but which we have not.\"\n\n\"The Lord, I trust,\" dear aunt, \"is beginning in _your_ soul the\ngreat good work, which will issue in your eternal salvation.\"\n\n\"What makes you think so?\"\n\n\"I think so because your spirit, which has long remained dormant,\nand comparatively insensible under the repressing and benumbing\ninfluence of Tractarian delusions, is now stirring within you;\nstruggling into newness of life; acquiring the moral sense\nof spiritual perception and feeling; craving after spiritual\nnourishment and consolation; willing to yield itself to God, to be\nrenovated, redeemed, and sanctified; and to walk with him. These are\nunmistakeable signs.\"\n\n\n\n\nON ATTENDING AN EVANGELICAL MINISTRY.\n\n\nMr. Roscoe had devoted a large portion of his life to biblical\nstudies, and the various branches of literature which are connected\nwith them, and was thus qualified to discuss theological questions\nwith great facility. His passion for disputation having subsided\ninto an ardent love of the truth, he no longer argued for the\nhonour of gaining the victory, but either to vindicate his opinions\nwhen assailed, or to acquire more correct information on subjects\nwhich, till recently, he but imperfectly understood. His loftiness\nof spirit had now left him; and though he still displayed the\ninsignia of a high mental order, yet there was so much amiability\nin his manner, and so much docility in his temper, that while he\ncommanded respect, he did not fail to win esteem. During his first\nserious impressions, the light of truth shone with too feeble a ray\nto produce that perfect and plenary conviction which permits the\nmind no longer to vacillate; but when it came, not in word only,\nbut also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance, he\nreceived it with mingled emotions of astonishment and joy; and while\nhe still retained his constitutional independence and ardour, these\nqualities were so softened and imbued by the love of Christ, that\nthey gave a charm to his character and conversation, of which every\none was conscious but himself.\n\nHis more public profession of religion was free from ostentation,\nand without reserve. It was not made to gratify caprice, or cast\na reflection on the indecision of others, but in obedience to the\nauthority of the Saviour; and as he had, before his conversion,\nacquired extensive information on theological subjects, when that\ngreat event took place he was enabled to advocate the cause of\ntruth with considerable ability, without requiring the preparatory\ncourse of instruction which is in general necessary. He still held\nin veneration the Established Church, and respected the private\ncharacter of his parish minister, the Rev. Mr. Cole, though he\ncould not agree with his sentiments; but as he was not edified by\nhis ministrations, he felt it to be his duty to separate himself\nfrom his congregation, and join himself to that of the Rev. Mr.\nIngleby, whose evangelical preaching was quite in accordance with\nhis own views of revealed truth. This step had been anticipated by\nhis friends, and while some of them commended him, others were much\ndispleased.\n\nOn the evening preceding the Sabbath, Mr. Roscoe mentioned the\nresolution he had formed, when his brother remarked, \"I am not\nsurprised at your determination, because I know that it is a very\ngeneral thing for those who embrace evangelical principles to prefer\nan evangelical ministry; but will not such a step grieve your old\nfriend, the Rev. Mr. Cole.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Perhaps it may; but ought I, by my presence, to\nsanction opinions which I believe to be erroneous?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Though Mr. Cole differs from you on some points\nof theology, there are many on which you agree; and I think you\nmay, like some others who have embraced evangelical principles,\nstill attend a ministry which does not belong to this specific\ndenomination, as you retain the right of rejecting what you\ndisapprove.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"If the points on which we differ did not involve\nany essential doctrine of the Christian faith, I should deem it\nmy duty still to attend his ministry; but when I consider that\nhe denies those truths which are, in my opinion, the vital parts\nof Christianity, and preaches what an apostle would call another\ngospel, I ought not to give him the sanction of my presence. If\nI sustained no personal injury under such a ministry, I could\nnot derive any real advantage from it. And, besides, am I not\nresponsible to God and to society for the influence of my example,\nas well as for my opinions and principles? If so, I am under a\nsacred obligation to be as cautious what I indirectly sanction, as\nwhat I recommend. Can I, without sacrificing the dictates of my\nconscience, recommend a person to believe that he requires no other\nregeneration than that which he experienced when he was baptized,\nand that his good deeds will atone for his evil actions; that he\nrequires no other qualification for heaven than a faithful discharge\nof his relative duties on earth? Impossible. If, then, I cannot\nrecommend the adoption of these opinions, ought I to sanction them\nby my presence, when they are enforced by others? I believe that\nmen, before they are renewed in the spirit of their minds, live in a\nstate of alienation from God--under the condemning sentence of his\nholy law--and are justly exposed to future and endless misery. I\nbelieve this on the testimony of the sacred writers, whose testimony\nis corroborated by the articles of our church; and do not the same\nauthorities teach us to believe that the truth, when preached in a\npure and faithful manner, is the ordained means of the conversion\nand salvation of men? But if the pure truth of the gospel becomes\ncorrupted, are we not taught to believe that the people perish? He\nwho corrupts it, either wilfully or through ignorance, will stand\nresponsible at the last day for the awful consequences of his\nconduct; but if I give my sanction to a ministry which I believe to\nbe a corruption of the gospel, and the people should perish under\nit, shall I not be regarded as accessory to their ruin?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But supposing I admit that an anti-evangelical\nministry is a corruption of the gospel, and that it does not prove\nthe means of the conversion and salvation of those who hear it, yet\nyou must allow that they hear the truth in its purity from the desk,\nwhere the Bible, as well as the prayers are read, which answers the\nsame purpose. Hence I have known some who have imbibed evangelical\nsentiments, recommend a continuance at their parish church on this\naccount, though the ministry may not exactly accord with their views\nand taste.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes; we have the pure gospel in the desk, even\nwhen we have another gospel in the pulpit; but I have never known\nit produce those moral effects on the people which result from\nan evangelical ministry. The prayers of our Liturgy may aid the\ndevotional feelings of a renewed Christian, but it is the _preaching\nof the truth_ that God employs as the means of infusing the\ndevotional spirit; and though some may recommend us to attend where\nthe gospel is confined to the reading-desk, yet can we suppose that\nPaul would do so if he were on earth? Would he, who pronounced that\nman or angel accursed who dared to preach any other gospel than\nthat which he and his fellow-apostles preached, urge his friends or\nhis hearers, if he were taking leave of them, to attend a ministry\nwhich he believed to be in opposition to the truth? Impossible!\nCan we suppose that our Lord, who commanded his disciples _to\ntake heed what they heard_, would, if he were again to appear on\nearth, recommend us to attend on a ministry which he believed was\nsubversive of the truth, and the means of misleading the people?\nImpossible! If we cannot believe that _they would recommend us to\ndo it, ought we to recommend that others should do so_? Would it\nbe wise to act in opposition to such authority? would it be safe?\nwould it be in accordance with the will of the Lord Jesus? and could\nwe calculate on receiving his benediction--_Well done, good and\nfaithful servant_?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But surely you do not mean that every one who\nembraces evangelical sentiments ought to leave his parish church if\nthose sentiments are not preached there?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Most certainly I do.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Indeed! Suppose one member of a family should\nembrace evangelical sentiments, while all the rest retain their\nformer belief, would you recommend that one individual to disturb\nthe peace of his family, by straying to some other church to hear\nhis favourite doctrines.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I recommend no one to disturb the peace of a family,\nand I rather think it will be found, when peace is disturbed, it is\nin consequence of the resistance which is raised by the opposite\nparty. Here is, for example, a single individual in the midst of a\nlarge circle of gay acquaintances, who feels the renewing influence\nof truth, and makes an open profession of her faith in Christ. She\nnow retires from the follies and vanities of the world, adopts\nhabits which are decidedly religious, and, without infringing on the\nrights of others, she claims the privilege of attending that place\nof worship where she can derive the most spiritual improvement. What\nlaw, either human or divine, is violated by such a decision? None.\nBut as the profession of faith in Christ, in the midst of a circle\nof the gay and the fashionable, is a novelty repugnant to their\ntastes, and considered by many of them so inelegant, and such a near\napproximation to the habits of the lower orders, she who makes it\nbecomes an object of satire and reproach, and then is accused as\nbeing the cause of all the domestic misery which _they_ originate.\"\n\n_Mrs. Roscoe._--\"But you know, my dear, that our domestic peace was\ndestroyed as soon as Sophia imbibed her evangelical sentiments; and\nyou know that religion has been the subject of contentious debate\nbetween us ever since.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But would it ever have been destroyed if we had not\ndone it? A letter[17] which she addressed to us convinced me, at\nthe time, of the injustice of our accusation; but now I look back\non that dark period of our life with more pain than any former one.\nThat letter satisfied me that I ought not to oppose her; and though\nI then regretted that she had embraced views of truth which were\nso different from my own, yet I admired the firmness and constancy\nwhich she uniformly displayed when they were assailed; and now I do\nnot hesitate to say, that he who opposes or persecutes another on\naccount of his religious principles and habits, _is treasuring up to\nhimself wrath against the day of wrath_.\"\n\n  [17] See page 228.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"I disapprove of persecution as much as you do:\nit is both impolitic and cruel; and seems to be one of the crimes\nwhich is left for the more savage and waspish part of our nature\nto commit. But, still, if we do not oppose force against a person\nwho has embraced evangelical principles, we may _reason_; and as I\nconsider the desertion of a parish church a serious evil, you must\npermit me to remind you that if you leave yours and go to hear Mr.\nIngleby, the stability of your character will be shaken. You have\nbeen considered as one of the pillars of the congregation--one\nof its ornaments--your decision has been admired no less than\nyour benevolence, and all regret that you should fall from your\nsteadfastness, and exchange the religion of your forefathers, which\nis grown venerable for its antiquity, for a new religion, which has\nbut recently sprung up amongst us.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This was one of the very arguments which the Church\nof Rome employed against the Reformers, and if they had yielded\nto its influence, we should still have been in her communion. I\nrecollect having met, some time since, in the course of my reading,\nwith the following judicious reply to a satirical question which a\nCatholic bishop proposed to a Protestant:--'_Where was your religion\nbefore the days of Luther?_' 'In the Bible, Sir, where yours is\nnot, and never was.' The Bible, as Bishop Stillingfleet very justly\nobserves, is the religion of Protestants. You say that I have\nexchanged an old for a new religion, but this I deny. I still admire\nthe Liturgy, and I still believe the Articles of the church; I still\nretain that religion which you say is venerable for its antiquity;\nbut, then, I believe it is not to remain a religion of mere forms\nand ceremonies, but that it is to operate on my heart, and produce\nwithin me the peaceable fruits of righteousness. The new religion,\nas you and others are pleased to term it, is not a corruption of the\nold; but it is the old religion of our venerable Reformers, and the\ngood old bishops and pastors of our church, revived in its primitive\nsimplicity, and life, and power. It is the religion of the Bible,\nwhich enlightens and renovates the inner man--which brings us into\nfellowship with the Holy One--which preserves the broad line of\ndistinction between the real and the nominal Christian--and which,\nby its progressive influence, makes us meet to become partakers of\nthe inheritance of the saints in light.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But I do not think that you can, consistently\nwith your profession as a Churchman, leave your parish church to\nattend one in another parish; the rector is the shepherd, whose\nspiritual jurisdiction extends over the whole parish, and the people\nare, ecclesiastically considered, his flock. Is it right for one\nsheep to stray into another fold for pasture?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Your figure of comparison is more fanciful than\njust. As we live in a land of freedom, where every man is permitted\nto exercise his own judgment on every religious question, we may\nbelieve what doctrines, practise what ceremonies, and hear what\nminister we please, without offending against any law, or subjecting\nourselves to the interference of others.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But you are not sure that you will approve of\nall the doctrines that Mr. Ingleby preaches, and may, after a while,\nbe under the necessity of going elsewhere.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"If I should be under the necessity of going\nelsewhere, I ought to be thankful that I have the right, and also\nthe opportunity of doing so. But as this is an hypothetical case,\nI feel under no obligation to reply to it, further than to say,\nthat as religion is now become essential to my happiness, and an\nenlightened ministry[18] essential to my spiritual improvement, I\nshall go where I can derive most advantage. Places and forms, times\nand seasons, are the accidental associations of religion, not the\nintegral parts of it. That powerful ascendency which they once\nretained over my imagination and prejudices is now destroyed, and I\nam free to hear the truth wherever it is proclaimed, and to offer up\nmy sacrifice of prayer and of praise to God, in any place which he\nwill condescend to visit with his presence.\"\n\n  [18] \"They that have any just sense of the importance of religion,\"\n  says a judicious writer, \"find that they need all the helps that\n  God has appointed. Suppose the Sabbath were abolished for a few\n  weeks--in what state, think you, would some of you find your minds?\n  Why, you would feel as if you had scarcely any knowledge or power\n  of religion at all.\" But there is no charm in the sanctity of\n  the day to keep up the power of vital religion in the heart of a\n  Christian, nor in the holy place where he may spend \"the consecrated\n  hours\"--this honour having been put on a faithful ministry, which\n  exhibits the truth in its purity and force. What a loss does\n  a Christian habitually sustain who deprives himself of such a\n  ministry, and worships where angels never stoop to celebrate the\n  conversion of one sinner to God! Instead of hearing that _glorious\n  gospel_ which enlivens and strengthens the mind, which purifies\n  and ennobles it, and which brings the remote and unseen realities\n  of eternity to moderate the impetuosity and cool the ardour with\n  which the fleeting shadows of time are pursued, the heart is often\n  disquieted, if not with \"harsh and dissonant sounds,\" yet with\n  antichristian and dissonant sentiments, and the day of rest becomes\n  one of perplexity and mortification--Providence having determined,\n  that they _who observe lying vanities shall feel that they have\n  forsaken_ their own mercies (Jonah ii. 8).\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"But I presume you do not intend to leave the\nchurch for any of the Dissenting chapels which are springing up\namongst us.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"You know that I am attached to the constitution\nand the prescribed formula of the church, but I have a stronger\nattachment for the gospel of Christ, which is the power of God to\nsalvation; and if I could not hear it preached within the walls of\nthe Establishment, I should consider it my duty to go where I could\nhear it. Now, I will put one simple question, and I am perfectly\nwilling to be guided by your reply. Suppose the pure gospel was\npreached in a Dissenting chapel, and another gospel was preached in\nthe church, to which place would the apostle Paul go to worship, if\nhe were a resident amongst us?\"\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Roscoe made no reply to this somewhat hampering\nquestion; but his wife, who was rather more ingenuous in her\ndisposition, and less anxious about the consequences of any fair\nconcession or admission, said, \"I have no doubt but he would go to\nthe Dissenting chapel, and take others with him.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"My dear! do you really think so? you must be\nmore guarded.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"Yes, I do most certainly think so; and I'll\ntell you why. He has pronounced a woe against any one who shall dare\nto preach another gospel than that which he preached; and therefore\nit is not likely that he would sanction an official service, against\nwhich he has recorded his solemn and awful denunciations. It would\nbe exposing himself to the consequences of his own anathema if he\nwere to do so.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe_, smiling.--\"I bow to the Spirit, that will rule in\nspite of apostolic prohibition.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"Yes, when it rules in righteousness, as in\nthis case, rebellion would be treason, no less to logic than to\napostolic authority.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the following Sabbath morning we were delighted to see Mr. Roscoe\nand his family enter the church, Mrs. John Roscoe accompanying\nthem. As this was the first time they had come to hear Mr. Ingleby,\nwe were very naturally somewhat excited on the occasion. He read\nthe prayers with great solemnity and pathetic earnestness; and it\nwas evident, from the expressive responses of the congregation,\nthat they felt engaged in a devotional exercise, blending, in the\nname of the glorious Mediator, supplication with thanksgiving. His\nsubject was taken from Revelation iii. 21, \"To him that overcometh\nwill I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame,\nand am set down with my Father in his throne.\" After a few prefatory\nremarks, the venerable rector said, \"I shall endeavour to prove\nfrom these words that the Christian is animated in his course by\nthe hope of attaining the honours which wait him at the end of it.\"\nHe had, in this sublimely interesting subject, ample scope for the\nexhibition of some of the most attractive and impressive parts of\nrevealed truth; and such was the ease, energy, and animation with\nwhich he spoke, that the audience listened with fixed attention; and\nthough he knew not that Mr. Roscoe's family was present, yet, from\nthe tenor of his remarks, some thought that the sermon was intended\nsolely for them.\n\nAfter service, when strolling leisurely through the church-yard,\nFarmer Pickford pressed through the crowd, and rather abruptly gave\nme his hearty hand-shake, and we walked away together, his modest\nwife by his side.\n\n\"We have had an excellent sermon this morning.\"\n\n\"That's true, Sir, and no mistake. Mr. Ingleby speaks as though he\nbelieved and felt what he says. He is wonderfully clever. He knows\nthe Bible from Genesis to Revelation; and methinks he could repeat\nit without looking at it. And what a smart voice he has--not too\nloud for them that sit near him, and loud enough to make people hear\noutside the church if a window happens to be open.\"\n\n\"He is indeed an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures; that\nis, he has extensive and profound knowledge of them.\"\n\n\"He has more verses of the Bible in one sarmunt than Parson Cole\nputs in threescore; and I take notice that they are all different,\nwhile Parson Cole is always repeating two, which I have learnt\nby heart. One is, 'Be not righteous overmuch;' and t'other, 'In\nthe last days perilous times shall come.' He has given me a bit\nof a liking for the Bible. I read one chapter every night to the\nyoungsters before they go to bed, and two on a Sunday.\"\n\n\"I hope you understand and feel what you read, and what you hear\nfrom the pulpit?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, as for that I can't say much; but I can say this, I like\nwhat I hear, and I can make out Mr. Ingleby's meaning a bit better\nnow than I could at first. What he says often _comes home_ here,\"\nplacing his hand over his heart, \"and then I can't help feeling, and\nat times I feel desperately; but then, worse luck, it all goes off\non a Monday.\"\n\n\"I suppose, though, you sometimes think during the week on what you\nhear at church on the Sabbath?\"\n\n\"I can't help doing that; but, worse luck, I can't make out his\nmeaning by my own thinkings so cleverly as he does in his sarmunts.\"\n\n\"That's very likely; but I suppose you now reflect at times on the\nworth of your soul, and the possibility of its being lost?\"\n\n\"Ay, that I do; more now in one hour than I ever did all my life\nlong before. Parson Cole never made me feel or think, but when he\nwas lashing away at the _schesmeatics_, as he calls the Methodists,\nand then I used to feel mightily pleased. I often think we were two\nfools together--one for lashing the Methodists, who never offended\nhim, and t'other for being pleased with it. I never come from church\nnow without thinking about myself and my sins, and about Jesus\nChrist who died on the cross, and about heaven and hell. These are\nnow to me great realities. Nothing else, as you said to me when you\nfirst talked to me, is of equal importance. But I am very stupid in\nsuch matters, worse luck. Wife knows a power more about such things\nthan I do, and she often helps me a bit to mind and understand\nMr. Ingleby's sarmunts. We often sit up an hour or so after the\nyoungsters and the sarvunts are gone to bed, to talk over these\nmatters. I like her talk, as I understand it a bit.\"\n\n\"I suppose you understand Mr. Ingleby much better than you used to\nunderstand Mr. Cole; and I daresay you would not very willingly go\nback to your parish church?\"\n\n\"I have been there, Sir, _for the last time_, and no mistake. When\nthere, I could sit thinking about my crops and my cattle, but I\ncan't do that at church now. No; Mr. Ingleby takes my heart along\nwith him; and at times he gives such terrible back strokes that he\nmakes me tremble--ay, and cry too; and I a'n't ashamed to confess it\nto you.\"\n\n\"I am thankful to hear you say what you do say, and I have no doubt\nbut you will, by and by, know spiritual things much better than you\ndo now.\"\n\n\"And so I tell him, Sir; I tell him he is now like the man of whom\nwe read in the Gospel of Mark, who, when the Lord began to open his\neyes, saw so confusedly, that men appeared like trees walking; but\nafter a while he saw things as clearly and as distinctly as other\npeople.\"\n\n\"The Lord grant it may be so; then I shall be a power happier than I\nbe now. I sha'n't mind death then.\"\n\n\"I suppose, Mrs. Pickford, things are now more comfortable at home\nthan they used to be?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; I see a blessed change in my husband, and a change in\nmy family. Sunday is now kept as it ought to be, and we all go to\nchurch, servants and all, which makes me very thankful to God for\nworking this change in our homestead, and to you, Sir, for the part\nyou have taken in it.\"\n\n\"I have a good wife, Sir, who looked after me when I neglected to\nlook after myself, and who looked after the youngsters when I was\nfor letting them run wild. I used to feel a power of anger against\nher for her Methodist ways and talk, and at times I refused to let\nher go to chapel on a Sunday; but I did this in the days of my\nignorance. I know a bit better now, thank the Lord. She says she\nsees a change in all of us, but I hope she will see greater changes\nyet. I now know that my heart must be changed, and I pray to God to\nchange it. I hope, Sir, you will come again to see us before you\nleave Fairmount, and give us a bit more prayer. That prayer you gave\nus at your last visit has never been off my heart since I heard it,\nand I don't think it will ever go off.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, do come again,\" said Mrs. Pickford, \"I will try to make\nyou comfortable, and you may do us some good.\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I got more good to my soul by your talk when you looked\nin and tasted our brown loaf and cream cheese, than I got from all\nthe parsons that ever visited us, and we have had a power of them in\nthe shooting season. They would talk about game and dogs, but not a\nword about the soul and its salvation. I'll tell you what my belief\nis--one half of them would make better gamekeepers than parsons; and\nI'll tell you why I think so--a man, to be a right sort of a fellow\nfor his work, should have a liking for it; and he should stick to\nit, and not gad about, minding other things.\"\n\n\"Very true; the ministers of religion should try to save the souls\nof their people.\"\n\n\"That, Sir, is my thinking; but no parson ever said anything to me,\nor to any of us, about my soul and its salvation, though they all\nknew I was a badish sort of a man, apt to swear a bit, and sometimes\nget drunk, worse luck.\"\n\n\"Well, Farmer, I hope now you will work out your salvation with fear\nand trembling, and then you will never again commit such sins.\"\n\n\"I will, Sir, the Lord helping me; and I hope we all shall; we shall\nthen be a power happier, and no mistake.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn their return from church, Mrs. John Roscoe said, \"We have heard\na very judicious and impressive sermon this morning. I was much\npleased with the vigour and occasional elegance of Mr. Ingleby's\nstyle; but this was a source of gratification far inferior to the\nelevating sentiments which he delivered. I could have sat another\nhour with great pleasure, but not without coveting the feelings of\na man who spake of the joys of heaven as one who had passed through\nall the necessary preparatory trials, and was living in the sweet\nanticipation of his final happiness.\"\n\n\"I was much struck,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"at the size and listening\nattitude of the congregation. How audibly and impressively they\nuttered the responses. It was the sound of many voices, yet all in\nharmony; I saw no one gazing about, as though he were a stranger in\na strange place, but every eye seemed fixed on Mr. Ingleby. I have\nbeen more pleased than I expected; and if this be a fair specimen of\nevangelical preaching, I shall feel no reluctance to go again.\"\n\nThis remark overpowered the feelings of Miss Roscoe, whose mind had\nbeen filled with anxiety respecting the issue of this first visit of\nher parents to the church in which she had so often listened with\ndelight to the truths of revelation, and she could not refrain from\nshedding the tear of joy.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"the service was indeed interesting and\nimpressive. The preacher displayed a spirit and a manner which\nbecame the place he occupied, and the responsibility of the sacred\nduties devolving on him. His mind was absorbed in his subject;\nand his principal aim was, by showing us our danger, and the\nresources of our safety, and by exhibiting before us the honours\nand felicities of the unseen world, so to awe and animate us, as to\nsecure our devout and permanent attention to the momentous truths\nwhich he brought forward. I felt that the revelation of mercy was\nto him not a mere system of philosophical speculation, which, by\nexercising the reasoning faculties, improves the intellect without\nrefining the moral sense; but that it was, what it professes to be,\na restorative scheme of salvation, which, by renovating the heart,\nrestores man to his long lost purity and bliss--deriving all its\nefficacy from the grace of Him by whom it was first announced.\"\n\n\"I never retired from a service,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"with\nsuch feelings as those that influenced my heart this morning; so\ndissatisfied with myself, and yet I know not why; I feel that I\nneed something to solace my heart, and yet what that something can\nbe I know not. I am, indeed, dear Sophia, in a state of almost\noverwhelming perplexity.\"\n\n\"Your observations, dear aunt, remind me of a passage in the\nhistory of the apostle Paul, who at one period of his life was in\nthe same state of mental perplexity, which led him to say, 'When\nthe commandment came, sin revived;' that is, when he felt the\ncondemnatory application of the law of God to his conscience, he was\nin a tumult. Before this application was made, he thought that his\nheart was very good, but afterwards he felt himself a great sinner,\nand that he had within him many evil principles, which had been\nlying in such a dormant state, that he had no suspicion of their\nexistence. The new discoveries which you are now making, and which\noccasion such painful perplexity, are preparing the way for other\ndiscoveries, which will soothe, and yield the sweetest consolation;\nand you will be led gradually onwards to a clear and comprehensive\nview of the grand theory of revealed truth; and then, like Paul, you\n'will abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.'\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear, it will be so; for I feel when associated, as I\ntoo long have been, with our Tractarian fallacies and delusions,\nsuch a craving of soul for some yet unknown spiritual helps\nand consolations, that I am painfully disquieted, and at times\nalarmed, lest I should be seized by death in my present state of\nunpreparedness for that solemn event. I hope, my dear, you and your\npapa will pray for me, for I now feel the need of the prayers of\nothers. I know not how to pray myself. Forms are now useless to me,\nespecially those I once used and admired, but never felt; I cannot\nuse them now; and yet I know not how to pray to the Almighty without\na written form.\"\n\n\"You will soon know, dear aunt.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNHAPPY ONE.\n\n\nMrs. Denham was quite disconcerted by not seeing the Roscoes at\nchurch on Sunday; and therefore, accompanied by her daughter, she\nmade a call the next day, to ascertain the cause.\n\n\"We were much surprised yesterday,\" said Mrs. Denham, \"by not\nseeing any of you in your pew. We thought some of you must be very\nill. We had a most charming sermon. Mr. Cole took his favourite\ntext--'_Be not righteous over much_.' He read most excellently. Mr.\nDenham very much admired the sermon, and so did Sir Henry Wilmot;\nI heard him say that Mr. Cole surpassed himself. He showed us the\nfolly and the danger of being too religious. We should have called\nin the evening, only we know that Mr. Roscoe has some scruples now\nabout Sunday visitors.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"you will be surprised when I tell you\nthat we all went to hear Mr. Ingleby.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\"\n\n\"And did you really?\" said Miss Denham. \"I heard him once. Is he not\na most solemn preacher? I think if I were to hear him often I should\nbe brought over to his religion, he enforces it with such awful\npower.\"\n\n\"You know, my dear, our objections to his religion; and I hope you\nwill never think of leaving your own for it.\"\n\n\"Why, mamma, if I speak the candid truth, I must confess that I have\nno religion to leave.\"\n\n\"Dear Matilda, you shock me. Why, can't you say the Catechism, and\nthe Belief, and the Lord's Prayer; and were you not confirmed by the\nBishop of Bath and Wells; and have you not taken the sacrament three\ntimes, and thus made yourself a very good Christian?\"\n\n\"No, ma', only twice. If you recollect, we had a large party last\nsacrament Sunday.\"\n\n\"Yes, I now recollect it. I suppose (looking at Mrs. Roscoe) you\nfound the church prodigiously full?\"\n\n\"There was a very large and a very attentive congregation.\"\n\n\"I have heard that before, and I wonder at it. I wonder what charm\npeople can feel in such a gloomy religion, to be so fond of it.\nThey should have the sermon preached to them which Mr. Cole read\non Sunday morning. It would soberize them. I am told Mr. Ingleby\npreaches such awful sermons, and with so much vehemence, that he\nmakes people take up with his religion whether they will or no.\nPray, how did Mr. Roscoe like his preaching? He is a sensible\nman, and one on whose judgment we may place some dependence,\nnotwithstanding his religious eccentricities.\"\n\n\"Mr. Roscoe was very much pleased. He thinks Mr. Ingleby a very\nintelligent and a very eloquent preacher. Indeed, we were all so\nmuch gratified, that it is our intention to hear him again.\"\n\n\"There, mamma,\" said Miss Denham, \"I told you it would be so. Is he\nnot, ma'am, a most beguiling preacher? I have often wished to hear\nhim again; and yet I wonder at it, for he made me feel so awfully.\nWhat was the subject of his discourse?\" (Mrs. John Roscoe now\nentered the parlour with Miss Roscoe.)\n\n\"He preached about the difficulties which a Christian has to\novercome before he can enter heaven.\"\n\n\"I wish,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"you had been with us. I think\nall your objections against evangelical preaching would have been\nremoved. I never enjoyed a sermon so much. We certainly act a very\nunwise part in cherishing antipathies against a style of preaching\nwhich is so well calculated to direct our attention towards that\neternal world to which we are all hastening.\"\n\n\"It is very proper that we should all think about going to\nheaven; but if we think too much on that subject it will make us\nlow-spirited. Mr. Cole very justly remarked yesterday, in his\nsermon, that our Saviour never prayed that we should be taken out of\nthe world; and I think it would be wrong if we were to desire it.\"\n\n\"But you know that we _must leave_ it; and as we know not how soon,\nis it not of importance that we should be prepared?\"\n\n\"O, certainly; and I doubt not but, when our Maker is pleased to\ntake us unto himself, we shall be quite resigned to our fate; but\nfor my own part (rising as she spoke), I would much rather live than\ndie. We know what this world is, and here we are very well off, but\nwe know nothing about the next.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"you and Miss Denham will accompany\nus on Sunday to hear Mr. Ingleby, as I have no doubt you will be\nmuch pleased. No one could have stronger prejudices against that\ngood man than myself; and though he advanced some things which I\ndid not very well understand, yet he preached with so much ease\nand animation, that I felt more of the importance of religion last\nSunday than I ever felt before.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt but Mr. Ingleby is a very good man and a most\nexcellent preacher; but you know that Mr. Denham is so attached to\nhis religion, that he would not like for us to change ours. When,\nMadam (addressing Mrs. John Roscoe), do you leave?\"\n\n\"We think of going the early part of next week.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"we cannot part with you so soon. You\nmust prolong your visit.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear aunt,\" said Miss Roscoe; \"indeed you must.\"\n\n\"I hope, Madam, you and the Rev. Mr. Roscoe, accompanied by Mr. and\nMrs. and Miss Roscoe, will do us the honour of joining a select\ndinner-party at Brushwood House this day week. Mr. Denham charged me\nto take no refusal, he is so anxious for the honour of seeing you\nall at his table.\"\n\n\"I feel obliged by your polite invitation; but I believe my husband\nhas to attend a clerical meeting, which will render it absolutely\nnecessary that we should be at home on Tuesday next. If he can stay,\nyou may expect to see us; and I will let you know immediately after\nI have seen him.\"\n\n\"You see, my dear,\" said Mrs. Denham, on her way home, \"the\npropriety of the suggestion which I gave you some time since, to\navoid associating with Mrs. Stevens, as it is to her influence we\nmay attribute the entire secession of the Roscoes from our social\nparties. They are all gone, as you may perceive from our interview\nwith them this morning; and their example will influence others.\nIt is prodigiously affecting to see the progress this evangelical\nreligion is making, and no one can say where it will end.\"\n\n\"But, mamma, one thing is certain--if we judge from observation,\nthey are happier with their religion than we are with ours.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, they say they are happy; but what pleasure can there\nbe in religion?\"\n\n\"I don't know, mamma; but I am sure that Mrs. Stevens and Miss\nRoscoe have a larger share of happiness than I have. I often feel a\ngloom come over my mind, which I can neither remove nor account for;\nand sometimes I feel such a singular depression of spirit, that I am\ninclined to read my Bible; but I don't know that it would do me any\ngood.\"\n\n\"Why, you know, my dear, you have been confined at home rather more\nthan usual, which has relaxed your nerves too much; but our parties\nwill soon meet, and then the gloom of which you speak will go off.\nBut I must request you to avoid associating with your new friends,\nespecially now you are somewhat depressed in spirits, or they may\nbring you over to take to their religion, which would be, as I have\noften told you, a most prodigious affliction to your father and\nmyself.\"\n\n\"I cannot, mamma, efface from my memory the sermon which I once\nheard Mr. Ingleby preach. It sometimes recurs to my recollection\nwith a force that quite overpowers me; and I have such fearful\ndreams. I dreamt last night that, just as I was coming out of the\ntheatre, the heavens all at once blazed with fire, and I thought the\nday of judgment was come. I awoke in such a fright, and just then I\nheard Hector howl most awfully.\"\n\n\"But, my dear, this was only a dream.\"\n\n\"But is not my dream a presentiment?\"\n\n\"O, no, my dear! it's only superstitious people who ever have such a\nthing as a presentiment.\"\n\n\"But, ma', I am unhappy, indeed I am. I can't forget the sermon I\nheard Mr. Ingleby preach.\"\n\n\"I wish you had never gone to his church. I wished you not to go.\nYou should always follow my advice; I have more knowledge of men and\nthings than you have.\"\n\n\"True, ma'; but I often wish to hear him again. Is he not a good\nman?\"\n\n\"My dear Matilda, you alarm me. You wish to hear him again, when\nhis first sermon made you so unhappy! You must not cherish such an\nidea. Indeed, you must make some effort to raise your spirits, and\ndrive all these gloomy thoughts out of your head, or there is no\nknowing what may happen.\"\n\n\"But, ma', if I could drive them out of my head, I could not drive\nthem out of my heart. They have penetrated too deeply.\"\n\n\"My dear Matilda, you _must_ rouse yourself. It won't do to give\nway to your melancholy ideas. Why, if you don't take care, you will\nbecome as religious as any of them; and then, as I have told you\nbefore, we should never have another happy day.\"\n\n\"My dear ma', I am unhappy, and cannot help it. With everything to\nmake me happy--perfect health, affectionate parents, kind friends,\nthe prospect of a union with the man I love--and yet I am not happy.\nThat fearful question, which impressed me so much when I heard it,\nis perpetually sounding in my ears.\"\n\n\"What question do you refer to?\"\n\n\"It is this, which I have repeated to you before--_Should_ you like\nto pass from the theatre to the judgment-seat of Christ?\"\n\n\"But that, my dear, was in his sermon, and he could not help reading\nit. He did not mean you, and I wonder why you should recollect it\nso. You should forget it.\"\n\n\"But I can't forget it. It is always returning. I hear it now. I\nhear it in company. I hear it in solitude. And in the dead of the\nnight, when I awake, as I often do, I hear it then.\"\n\n\"Your papa has spoken to me several times lately about you. He says\nhe is sure, from your melancholy looks and absence of mind, that\nthere is something the matter with you. He thought, till I satisfied\nhim to the contrary, that there was likely to be some rupture\nbetween you and Mr. Ryder. He is urging me to grant you every\nindulgence in our power.\"\n\n\"I am strongly tempted to become religious, to see if that would\nmake me happy.\"\n\n\"I am glad, my dear, it is only a temptation. You know our Saviour\nhas taught us to pray, Lead us not into temptation. This accounts\nfor something I saw the other day, which rather distressed me.\"\n\n\"What was that, ma'?\"\n\n\"I saw a Bible on your toilet.\"\n\n\"O yes, I recollect. I heard a poor woman say that her Bible made\nher happy, and I thought for the moment it might make me happy.\nBut I could not make out which part I ought to read first, so as\nto understand it; and, therefore, I didn't read much. I read the\nhistory of Joseph, which pleased me a little; and I read some of the\ngospel stories; but the other parts I cannot understand. It is to me\naltogether a book of mystery.\"\n\n\"Nor can I understand it. It is a book of mystery to me as well\nas to you. But, dear, one thing is certain--the Almighty does not\nrequire you, now you are so young, the very life and soul of all\nour parties, to give your mind to such awful subjects as the Bible\nspeaks about.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not, but still I am restless and uneasy. Indeed, I\nsometimes think of going to consult Mr. Ingleby; he may be able to\ngive me some advice which may do me good.\"\n\n\"Dear Matilda, by no means do such a thing. If he could once get you\ninto the Rectory, he would be sure to convert you to his religion.\nKeep up your spirits. We will go to Brighton soon; then to the\naltar. Then the tour, and then the return and the visiting. You will\nsoon be as happy as the day is long.\"\n\n\"I hope God will bless me, and make me happy.\"\n\n\"There's no doubt about that.\"\n\n\"Then, ma', if he will bless me, why does he let me live so unhappy?\nI have tried to pray to him to make me happy; but it's of no use.\nWhat can I do?\"\n\n\"You must go into company more.\"\n\n\"It is useless. I can't now enjoy what I used to enjoy so much; and\nI don't know the cause. I feel doomed by fate to unhappiness, and\nyet I have everything to make me happy.\"\n\n\"I'll speak to Dr. Bailey; he is very likely to give a prescription\nthat may relieve you.\"\n\n\"No physician's prescription will ever soothe the pangs of a wounded\nspirit.\"\n\n\"My dear Matilda, your case greatly distresses me, and your papa\ntoo. Tell us what we can do to comfort you, and we will do it.\"\n\n\"I cannot tell. What a contrast between Miss Roscoe and myself!\nHow cheerful she is! what a sweet smile is always playing on her\ncountenance! how lively and energetic she is, while I am wretched\nand depressed, weary of life, yet living in the dread of death; more\nwretched, while in the possession of abundance, than the poor in\ntheir poverty.\"\n\nSome few weeks after this conversation, Miss Denham, on her return\nfrom making some morning calls, said to her mamma, \"You recollect\nour meeting Mr. Cole, the last time we were at Mr. Roscoe's?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear.\"\n\n\"And do you recollect the remark you made on his leaving us?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You said, 'I wonder what is the matter. Mr. Cole looks so much\nannoyed to-day.'\"\n\n\"I now recollect it, and I thought of it several times during the\nweek, but I don't cherish such gloomy things as you do.\"\n\n\"Then I can tell you what affected him. I have just heard it. It\nwill astonish you. No one expected such a thing; it is so strange\nand unlikely.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"You know Miss Amelia Stubbs has been very ill many weeks and is\nlikely to die.\"\n\n\"Yes, I heard it from Dr. Bailey.\"\n\n\"Her papa, when she was given over by Dr. Bailey and another\nphysician, sent for Mr. Cole, and he talked to her, and gave her the\nsacrament and absolution, and then assured her that all was done\nthat was necessary to be done to fit her for heaven; and he told her\nthat now she might be resigned to her fate without any fear, as her\npeace with God was made on the sanctity of the sacrament.\"\n\n\"Very proper, dear. It is not, I believe, quite safe to die without\ntaking the sacrament. I should do that the first thing if I were\na-dying.\"\n\n\"Exactly so, ma'. After Amelia had taken it, and when all thought\nshe had made her peace with God, and was quite resigned to die, she\nsent for Mr. Cole again, and told him that what he had done was of\nno use, and that she dreaded dying just as much after taking the\nsacrament and absolution, as she did before she took it. It was this\nthat so much affected him. He had just left her when we met him.\"\n\n\"But why should he care about it, if he did what the church\nprescribes to be done? He did his duty, and that ought to have\nsatisfied him.\"\n\n\"But, he says, it is such an indirect impeachment of his competency\nto perform his clerical functions.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt, if the real state of the case were known, that\nMrs. Stevens has been with her, and undone what Mr. Cole did. She is\nalways prowling about amongst the sick and the dying, disquieting\ntheir minds after the clergy have helped them to make their peace\nwith God.\"\n\n\"No, ma', she had not seen Mrs. Stevens. Her disquietude of soul\ncame of itself.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"I have just seen her, and she told me so. She said, and she spoke\nemphatically when she said it, 'To give the sacrament and absolution\nto fit a person for dying, as a sort of a passport to heaven, is a\ngreat delusion.'\"\n\n\"Depend on it, dear, that her fever has affected her brain. She must\nbe in a state of delirium.\"\n\n\"No, ma', she is quite herself--as calm and as collected as when in\nperfect health. And she talks now so sweetly about Jesus Christ, and\nabout his love for sinners, and about coming to him to be saved,\nthat she really made me weep, though I could not comprehend her\nmeaning. You would not know her if you were to hear her speak now,\nso different to her former talk. She talks now like a saint just\ngoing into heaven. It is quite wonderful. I can't make it out.\"\n\n\"Then I suppose Mr. Ingleby has been with her.\"\n\n\"Yes; her papa, at her request, sent for him; and he talked to her,\nso she told me, so sweetly about Jesus Christ, about his compassion\nand his love, and about his being able and willing to save her, and\nprayed with her so sweetly, that now she says she is quite happy at\nthe thought of dying--that she would rather die than live.\"\n\n\"All this is quite marvellous.\"\n\n\"Exactly so. It has taken the whole circle of her intimacy by\nsurprise. Everybody is talking about it, and nobody can make it out.\nOnly think, a young lady with her bright prospects saying she would\nrather die than live!\"\n\n\"Did Mr. Ingleby give her the sacrament and absolution?\"\n\n\"No, ma', he did nothing but explain the Bible to her, and pray with\nher.\"\n\n\"Is she dying?\"\n\n\"She is just now a little revived; but she told me again, she would\nrather die than live; and there was such a sweet smile on her\ncountenance when she said it.\"\n\n\"Marvellous! But are you quite sure she is not in a state of\ndelirium? This is how delirious people talk, so I have heard.\"\n\n\"She is no more delirious than I am. She told me, that if she\nshould get well again, which she did not expect, she would have\nnothing more to do with balls, theatres, and card-parties; and she\nsaid so many solemn things to me about my soul, and its salvation\nand another world, and urged me so earnestly and affectionately to\nprepare for death while time was given me for such preparation, that\nI am become as low-spirited as ever, and don't know what to do. It\nis marvellous to hear with what ease, and fluency, and earnestness,\nshe now talks on these awful subjects.\"\n\n\"One strange thing now comes so soon after another, that I get quite\nbewildered, but I suppose after a while things will settle down, and\nwe shall be as quiet as ever. It is this evangelical religion that\nis doing all the mischief. What a pity that our Maker does not,\nsomehow or another, put a stop to it.\"\n\n\"But, ma', people can't die in peace without it, though they can\nlive without it. How will you account for this?\"\n\n\"I don't know, as I never studied the subject; and I wish you would\nbanish it from your mind, and talk about something else.\"\n\n\"I may talk about something else, ma', but to banish it from my mind\nis more than I am able to do.\"\n\nThe conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the Rev. Mr.\nCole.\n\n\"We were just talking about this strange case of Miss Amelia Stubbs.\nHow unpolite in her to tell you that the administration of the\nsacrament and absolution was a great delusion, when it is the very\nthing our church prescribes to fit a dying person for heaven!\"\n\n\"Ay, she is to be pitied. Her mind is affected.\"\n\n\"So I believe, and so I have said. Is she likely to get any better\nbefore death?\"\n\n\"No, Madam; there is no chance of that now, as Mr. Ingleby has her\nunder his care.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Miss Denham, \"she is scarcely to be pitied. She is\nas calm and as collected as when in perfect health, and appears so\nhappy when speaking of the bliss she expects to enjoy after death.\nShe says she would rather die than live.\"\n\n\"This, I know, is what the evangelicals say, but I won't believe it.\"\n\n\"I believe it, Sir, for I have seen her, and heard her say so. I\nwish I was half as happy with the prospect of living as she is with\nthe prospect of dying. Can you account for this wonderful change\nfrom a dread of death to a desire to die?\"\n\n\"It's all effervescent excitement.\"\n\n\"A most pleasant one, just such an excitement as I should like if I\nwere dying.\"\n\n\"My dear, you are overstepping the bounds of reverential propriety,\nby offering such free remarks to Mr. Cole.\"\n\n\"I hope not, ma'; it is not my intention to do so; but I can't help\nsaying that, while standing beside her death-bed, I envied her her\nhappiness. She told me that the sacrament did not take from her the\ndread of dying, but the sweet promise of Jesus Christ did.\"\n\n\"What promise of Jesus Christ did she refer to? To one, I suppose,\nthat she heard in a fit of delirium. Delirious people always see\nimaginary sights, and hear imaginary sounds, and yet they think them\nreal.\"\n\n\"O no, Sir, there's no delirium in her case. It was a promise which\nMr. Ingleby read to her out of the Bible, and it was something like\nthis, '_Come to me, and I will give you rest_.'\"\n\n\"I shall have no rest as long as Mr. Ingleby is suffered to invade\nmy ecclesiastical territory, and pervert my parishioners from the\nsacraments of our church to his evangelical notions. I mean to\ncomplain of him to the bishop of our diocese, and have him cited\nbefore him.\"\n\n\"I don't like,\" said Miss Denham, after Mr. Cole left, \"this\ncitation reference. I wonder what he will say to the bishop, and I\nwonder what the bishop will say to him. Will he tell him that he\nvisited a young lady of his parish when she was dying, and gave her\nthe sacrament and absolution, according to the prescribed forms\nof the church, but they failed in her case in the efficacy of\ntheir power, as she dreaded death as much after she had taken the\nsacrament as she did before it was given to her? Will he then go on\nto say, that Mr. Ingleby was then invited to see her, and that he,\nby repeating and explaining to her some promise of Jesus Christ,\nwhich he read to her out of the Bible, succeeded in taking from\nher heart all dread of death, and in inspiring her with a joyful\nhope of immortality? Do you think he will do this, and then pray\nhis lordship to issue a censure, and an interdiction to prevent his\ndoing such a kind thing to any other person?\"\n\n\"O no, dear, he won't do anything so highly indecorous. It was a\nhasty expression.\"\n\n\"I hope so, because the _morale_ of such an application would be\nthis: he would rather his parishioners should die in despair, than\nthey should derive hope and spiritual consolation from the promises\nof Jesus Christ, repeated to them and explained to them by a brother\nclergyman of another parish.\"\n\n\"But, dear Matilda, in this case the brother clergyman is an\nevangelical.\"\n\n\"Admitted; but then he does what Mr. Cole could not do; he gives\nconsolation and hope to a person when dying. This case is causing\nmuch excitement; it is bringing the efficacy of the sacraments into\ndisrepute. I shall never, ma', forget my interview with Amelia; her\nserene look, her composure, the soft yet full intonations of her\nvoice when bidding adieu to what she called this vain world, and\nhailing the dawn of a blissful immortality. And, ma', she wept many\ntears when she was urging me to flee from the wrath to come.\"\n\n\"Why, dear, it was very uncharitable in her even to suppose that\nsuch a dear innocent as you are is exposed to the wrath to come, but\nto allude to it was an act of great rudeness. I wonder you did not\nresent it.\"\n\n\"Really, ma', I felt when she was speaking as though what she said\nwas very applicable and proper. But perhaps we were both labouring\nunder a wrong impression. However, the conclusion which I have come\nto is this, though I have not mentioned it to any one before, that\nthere is a power in evangelical religion of which we can form no\nidea. There's a mystery about it I cannot fathom.\"\n\n\"I am glad that dear Amelia is happy in prospect of death; she was\nalways a virtuous girl, with a good heart; and now we will dismiss\nthe subject, to talk about something else. Come, let us go into\nthe drawing-room, and we will have a little music. You dwell on\nmelancholy ideas too much; dismiss them, dear.\"\n\n\"Dismiss them! Why, ma', my thoughts come and go without my control.\nSome are strange thoughts, such as I never had before, and some are\nthe same as usual. My mind is quite jaded by its own activity; and\nif I go to rest, and go to sleep, it is just the same then, as it\nis now. I often wonder what the issue of all this mental turmoil\nwill be.\"\n\n\"Here is Mr. Ryder and his sister coming; they will cheer you up.\"\n\n\"Don't tell them that I am unhappy; it may excite suspicion or\njealousy.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCENE CHANGES.\n\n\nAn arrangement having been made by a few of the gay young people\nof Aston to go to a public ball, Miss Denham yielded to the\nsolicitations of Mr. Ryder, her betrothed husband, and promised to\ngo with them, though not without a slight degree of reluctance.\nAfter she had given her consent, on casually seeing the Rev. Mr.\nIngleby, as she was returning from a morning walk, his sermon on the\nloss of the soul was brought so forcibly to her recollection, and\nit revived so powerfully the disquieting emotions which it produced\nat the time she was listening to it, that she said to her mamma, \"I\nthink I ought not to go; the thought of going makes me feel quite\nunhappy.\" However, the entreaties and persuasions of her mamma and\nMr. Ryder prevailed, and she accompanied the party. It was a fine\nevening when they set off, and they were all in great glee; but on\ntheir return, the night had become so dark and stormy that it was\nwith difficulty they reached home. The next morning Miss Denham\ncomplained of a slight cold, and it was thought proper that she\nshould keep her room during the whole of the day. On the following\nday she felt somewhat unwell, but not ill; and as there were a few\nselect friends engaged to tea and cards, she dressed, and appeared\namongst them. She was gay and sprightly, but the dew of health was\ngone from her countenance; her eyes did not sparkle with their\nusual lustre; and all received an impression, from her general\nappearance, that some fatal disease had seized her, though no one\nhad courage enough to mention it.\n\nAfter the party broke up she became somewhat worse; but as there\nnever had been much illness in the family, her parents did not\nsend for medical assistance, supposing that she had merely taken\na cold, from which she would soon recover. Her mamma sat by her\nbedside till midnight, when she left her in a sweet sleep, having\ncommissioned her favourite servant to watch her through the night.\nAbout three in the morning she became restless, awoke, and asked for\nsome water, which she drank with avidity, and then slumbered on for\nthe space of another half-hour. She awoke again, and asked for more\nwater; complained of its being bitter, and uttered some incoherent\nsentences, which induced the servant to call up her parents. She\nbecame composed again; slept rather more soundly; but about five\nshe again awoke, and seeing her mother, she said, \"I have had a\nvery strange night--I have seen strange sights, and heard strange\nsounds--I am very ill--I ought not to have gone to the ball--I\nknew better--_I should not like to pass from the theatre to the\njudgment-seat of Christ_!\"\n\n\"O, my dear, do not suffer your mind to be so distressed. It was a\nvery unfavourable night; but I hope it will please the Almighty to\nrestore you to health very soon. Your papa has sent William for Dr.\nBailey, and we expect him here every minute.\"\n\nAt length, after two hours' long suspense, the trampling of\nthe horses announced the approach of the doctor, who was soon\nintroduced to her by her tender-hearted father. He made a few\ninquiries--examined her pulse--looked grave--and then abruptly\nretired below, followed by both her parents, who felt anxious to\nknow his opinion, yet dreaded to ask him for it.\n\n\"Miss Matilda,\" he said, \"is very ill--she must be kept very\ncomposed. I will send her some medicine, which she must take\nimmediately, and I will see her again about noon.\"\n\n\"Is there any danger, Sir?\"\n\n\"There is, Madam, always some danger attendant on such a violent\nseizure; but I see no great reason to apprehend a fatal issue.\"\n\nThe doctor's directions were strictly adhered to; but the fever\ncontinued to rage with even greater violence, and she became\ndelirious. Occasionally she gave utterance to half-formed sentences,\nwhich indicated that she sometimes thought herself listening to a\nsermon _on the loss of the soul_, and at other times enjoying the\ngaieties of fashionable life. Often did her father, with hurried\nsteps, walk up and down the lane, between the hours of twelve and\ntwo, to look for the doctor; and just as he was sending William to\nhasten his return, he saw him coming. After the second interview\nwith his patient, her mother ventured to say, \"Do you think, Sir,\nthe dear creature is dying?\"\n\n\"Why, no, Madam; she is still very ill, but not worse than when I\nsaw her in the morning. She may recover, and I hope she will; but\neverything depends on her being kept composed.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, she is at times very delirious, and utters sayings\nfrightful to hear.\"\n\n\"That must not astonish you; it proceeds from the nature of the\ncomplaint; it is a painful but not a dangerous symptom. I want to\nsubdue her fever, and if I can do that, we have nothing to fear. I\nwill see her again in the evening.\"\n\nShe continued during the afternoon much the same, but towards\nevening was more composed; she recognized her mother, and conversed\na little with her; complained less of pain and of thirst, and was\nso much revived that the doctor said, on leaving her, that he had\nvery little doubt that she would recover. During the four following\ndays there was no perceptible change, but on the turn of the seventh\nday the fever left her. As the doctor had been very particular in\nrecommending her parents to keep up her spirits, to prevent her\nruminating on the subject of religion, her mamma occasionally read\nto her some passages from the most amusing books she could procure,\nand generally passed away the dull and tedious hours of the evening\nat cards. But though she had regained her vivacity, and talked\nwith her accustomed ease on the past scenes of her life, and the\nprospects which futurity opened up to her ardent fancy, yet she\ngradually became weaker and weaker, which convinced her physician\nthat some incipient disease was undermining the vigour of her\nconstitution; yet he did not despair of her final recovery.\n\nBut though for a while some flattering symptoms gave promise of\nreturning health and vigour, yet at length it became evident that\ndeath was lurking in ambush, and that the gay and accomplished\nMatilda must die. One physician was called in after another, and\nevery expedient which human skill could devise was resorted to;\nbut no power could arrest the progress of the flattering yet fatal\ndisorder which was gradually wasting away her life. As soon as she\nwas informed that there was no hope of her recovery, she requested\nto be left alone till she rang the bell. On this request all went\nbelow, and sat for some time weeping together. \"She is now,\" said\nher father, \"making her peace with God; let no noise be heard; this\nwork requires stillness; may heaven bless her in the act.\" The bell\nrang; her anxious mother, on approaching her bedside, perceived she\nwas in a state of extreme agitation, and her voice faltered as she\nsaid, \"I fear, ma', I am not fit to appear before the judgment-seat\nof Christ. I wish to see some clergyman who will bring words of\npeace to my soul.\"\n\n\"That's very proper, dear. I'll send for Mr. Cole, who will, I am\nsure, and with great satisfaction, give you the sacrament, and then\nyou will make your peace with God.\"\n\n\"Yes, mamma; he gave it to Amelia Stubbs when she was dying, and she\ntold me that she dreaded death after she had taken the sacrament as\nmuch as she did before it was given to her; she told me that giving\nthe sacrament and absolution to fit a person for dying is a great\ndelusion. I now feel, ma', that I have been living under the spell\nof a fatal delusion; but I cannot consent to die under it. Will you\nsend for Mr. Ingleby?\"\n\n\"Mr. Ingleby!\" said the astonished mother.\n\n\"Yes, ma'; he spoke words of comfort to Amelia Stubbs when she was\ndying, and he may bring some words of comfort to my troubled soul.\nSend for him immediately. I have not long to live, and I wish now to\nturn the current of my thoughts towards the other world.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said the weeping father, on Mrs. Denham's entrance into\nthe parlour, \"our dear Matilda feels her soul happy.\"\n\n\"O no! she is not happy. Her soul is in trouble. She says that she\nis not fit to appear before the judgment-seat of Christ.\"\n\n\"What makes her think this?\"\n\n\"It is the remembrance of some question she once heard Mr. Ingleby\nput when he was reading his sermon.\"\n\n\"Did she ever tell it you?\"\n\n\"Yes; many times of late.\"\n\n\"Do you recollect it?\"\n\n\"Yes; it was this--'Should you like to go from the theatre to the\njudgment-seat of Christ?'\"\n\n\"And who would? Perhaps that question was the Almighty's warning\nvoice speaking to her soul.\"\n\n\"She wishes to see the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, and requests that he may be\nsent for immediately.\"\n\n\"Yes, I'll send for him at once, since she desires to see him. He\nis a good man, and has made many happy in their last hours, and I\nhope he will bring words of peace to the troubled spirit of our dear\ndying child.\"\n\nAs the news of Miss Denham's approaching dissolution spread through\nthe parish, many wept, and many sent to inquire after her; but\nnone were more deeply affected than the Stevenses and the Roscoes.\nThough they had often sent, and often called, yet they had not been\npermitted to see her more than once, and then she was flushed with\nthe high expectation of a speedy recovery.\n\nMr. Denham at once sent a note to the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, informing\nhim of the dangerous illness of his daughter, and of her desire to\nsee him at his earliest convenience.\n\nMr. Ingleby was very soon with her; he found her seated in an\narm-chair beside the fire, with a Bible open on the table before\nher; but she was too much excited to do more than extend her hand,\nsitting for some time nearly motionless, in pensive silence.\nThere was a melancholy cast on her countenance, which formed a\nstrong contrast to the brilliancy of her eye, and the beautiful\nthough fatal hectic which flushed her cheeks. Her parents, after\nmaking some delicate allusions to her illness, and the depression\nof her spirits, withdrew, as she had requested to be left alone\nwith Mr. Ingleby; and after they had left the room, she very\nfrankly told him that she had sent for him to give her the benefit\nof his instructions and his prayers. \"I have lived, Sir, a gay\nand a thoughtless life, but not a happy one. I have often felt\ndissatisfied with the sources of my gratification, and envious of\nthe happiness of our friends at Fairmount; but never had resolution\nenough to abandon the objects of my pursuit, nor to seek theirs. It\nhas now pleased the Almighty to put a stop to my career of folly and\ngaiety, and I know that in a few weeks, if not days, I shall die,\nand go into the eternal world; and I am not prepared for such an\nawful event.\"\n\n\"But what convinces you that you are not prepared to go into the\neternal world; and how long have you entertained such a belief?\"\n\n\"Ever since I heard you preach a sermon on the loss of the soul.\nSince then I have been unhappy, and often in terror.\"\n\n\"Do you remember any particular passage in the sermon which\nimpressed and affected you?\"\n\n\"O yes, Sir; one, which is fixed on my memory. It was this: '_Should\nyou like to go from the theatre to the judgment-seat of Christ?_'\"\n\n\"To pass abruptly from such a scene of gay amusement into the\neternal world would indeed be awful, but God in mercy has interposed\nto prevent it; and your present anxiety on the subject may be\nregarded as a favourable sign that he is dealing graciously with\nyou. But as many are alarmed in the immediate prospect of death,\nand pray for mercy when they cannot continue longer in a course of\nfolly and of sin, you will permit me to warn you against grasping\nat a premature hope, which may prove more fatal, because more\ndeceptive, than the keenest feelings of anguish.\"\n\n\"O, Sir, I have no hope. My soul is deeply depressed; I cannot look\nback on the scenes of my past life without being amazed at my folly.\nHad I taken the warning which Amelia Stubbs gave me when she was\ndying, I had not gone to the theatre or the ball-room again; and\nthen I had not been dying now.\"\n\n\"You knew her?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir; and I saw her when she was dying; and she told me she\nwould rather die than live. And she besought me with tears, and in\nthe sweetest tones of solicitude, to flee from the wrath to come.\nBut I was infatuated, and I saw not my danger, nor did I understand\nthe full import of her warning as I do now. I continued to follow\nthe multitude, because custom led the way, and now I must die alone.\nBut I am not fit to die.\"\n\n\"Why do you suppose that you are not fit to die?\"\n\n\"Because I am a sinner; I always thought I was, when I ever thought\non the subject, but now I _feel_ that I am.\"\n\n\"And how long have you felt yourself a sinner?\"\n\n\"O, Sir,\" and she wept as she spoke, \"not till after I was informed\nof my danger; and this aggravates my misery, because I fear that it\nis a dread of punishment which disquiets my soul, rather than a true\nsorrow for my sins.\"\n\n\"Had you ever any convictions during your gay career that you were\nacting an unwise and a dangerous part?\"\n\n\"O yes, often, Sir, very often; conviction would sometimes flash\nover my mind, with the vividness of lightning; but then it would\nsoon go off again; and though I could not forget the impressions\nwhich it produced, yet I soon ceased to feel them.\"\n\n\"You informed me just now that while you were sometimes dissatisfied\nat your own pursuits, you often envied the superior happiness of\nour pious friends at Fairmount; but why did you envy them their\nhappiness, when you could form no just conception of the nature of\nit?\"\n\n\"It is true, Sir, I could form no conception of the nature of\ntheir happiness, but I knew they were happy--more happy without\nour fantastic sources of amusement than we were with them. I never\nretired from their society without being convinced that there was a\nDivine reality in true religion; and yet I could not imagine what it\ncould be. The only idea I could form of it was going frequently to\nchurch, reading the Bible, praying, and living a virtuous life.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, there is a Divine reality in true religion, which, I\nhope, you will live to feel?\"\n\n\"I cannot live, Sir, and I am not fit to die. My case is hopeless.\"\n\n\"No, my dear, it is not hopeless. I can repeat to you words which\nhave comforted thousands, and I hope they will comfort you--'_God so\nloved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever\nbelieveth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life_.'\"\n\n\"But, Sir, after living such a vain life, may I venture to rely on\nhis death for salvation, with a hope of obtaining it?\"\n\n\"Yes, most certainly. Jesus Christ came into the world to save\nsinners--those who _feel_ they are sinners--and as soon as we _feel_\nour _guilt_ and our _degeneracy_, we are not only fitted to come\nunto him for peace, and acceptance, and eternal life, but _invited_\nin the most tender and endearing terms. Hence he says, 'Come unto\nme, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you\nrest.'\"\n\n\"O, Sir,\" she suddenly exclaimed, and her eye sparkled with delight,\n\"these are the very words which gave comfort to dear Amelia Stubbs\nwhen she was dying, so she told me.\"\n\n\"And I hope they will give comfort to your soul. They are the words\nwhich Jesus Christ uttered when he was on earth, and addressed to\nsinners like you.\"\n\n\"But he does not speak them to me; if he did, then I should have\ncomfort, because then I should have hope.\"\n\n\"He has had them inserted in the New Testament, and there you may\nread them; and as they are placed there for the comfort of sinners\nof all future times, you are authorized, when reading them, or\nhearing them repeated, to believe that he IS _speaking_ to YOU, and\nas really as though you could hear him giving utterance to them.\"\n\n\"Then I will hope in his mercy and in his power; and yet I am almost\nafraid to hope. Had I felt some years, or even some months since\nwhat I now feel, I should have been preserved from the ensnaring\ninfluence of those fascinations which have opened for me a premature\ngrave, and might, in the society of my esteemed friends, Mrs.\nStevens and Miss Roscoe, have enjoyed a large share of happiness on\nearth.\"\n\n\"But you ought to be thankful to the God of all consolation that\nyou have felt, in the eleventh hour, that degree of guilt, and that\nclear apprehension of danger, which has induced you to run for\nrefuge to Jesus Christ to save you.\"\n\n\"Very true, Sir; and I do feel the emotion of gratitude to him\nspringing up in my heart. It is a new emotion, and it is a very\nsweet one.\"\n\n\"You have often heard, when attending the services of the church,\nthat Jesus Christ died on the cross to save sinners from perishing;\ndid it never make any impression on your heart?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, I heard it, but it did not impress my thoughtless mind.\nBut now I see it and feel it. O, how wonderful, that the Son of God\nshould bleed and die for such a guilty and worthless sinner as I now\nfeel myself to be! And may I hope, dear Sir, without being guilty\nof presumption, that _he will save me_ from perishing, and admit me\ninto heaven?\"\n\n\"You may; indeed, not to do so would be a sin, as it would be an\nimpeachment of his integrity.\"\n\n\"Then I will hope, and will bless and praise his name with all my\nsoul. I have been living under a fatal delusion, but I feel that I\nam under no delusion now.\"\n\n\"No, my dear, you are now brought into connection with\nrealities,--sublime realities--realities which connect the two\nworlds, and which explain the mysteries of time, and open a free\nand a safe passage for the guilty and the worthless into eternity.\"\n\n\"May I now urge my last request, which is this--that ere you leave\nthis house, you will try to impress on the mind of my dear parents\nthe important truths which you have with such clearness made known\nto me.\"\n\nThe venerable man having given her his pledge that he would attempt\nto do so, then knelt down and prayed with her, and bade her\nfarewell, yet intending to see her again. Immediately after Mr.\nIngleby's departure she retired to rest, and slept the greater part\nof the night. In the morning, when her father drew near her bedside,\nand asked her if her soul was happy, she replied, \"I am composed,\nbut not perfectly happy. I have a hope that I shall not perish, and\nthat I shall be saved; and this is as much as I can expect, and\nfar more than I deserve. I shall now soon leave you, dear father;\nbut before I go I have two requests to make, which I hope you will\ncomply with. The one is this, that you and my dear mother will go\nand hear that holy man of God preach, who has brought words of\ncomfort to my troubled soul. He understands what religion is, and\nwill explain it to you more clearly and more perfectly than Mr. Cole\ncan do. I once, in common with others, ridiculed his evangelical\nviews of Divine truth, and turned the edge of satire against those\nwho seek happiness in the consolations of the gospel; but now I am\ndriven for peace and for hope to that very source. My other request\nis, that you will send my affectionate regards to Mrs. Stevens and\nMiss Roscoe, and say that I wish to see them as soon as they can\nconveniently come.\"\n\nMr. John Ryder, who had been unremitting in his attentions during\nher illness, and who was nearly frantic with grief in the prospect\nof parting with her, was waiting below; and when she was asked\nif he might see her once more, she replied, \"I think not, it may\ndisturb me; I am too near an eternal world to suffer my feelings to\nintermingle again with those objects on which they have been too\nstrongly placed.\" But after a long pause she added, \"Yes, let him\ncome up. The parting scene, though painful, may be profitable.\"\nHe entered the room, pale and dejected; and though his spirit\ncould brave death in the high places of danger, yet now he was\nappalled--seeing her preparing for the tomb, instead of the altar.\nOn approaching her bedside she extended her hand, and with a mild\nlook and softened tone, she said, \"We now part, but I hope not\nfor ever. Death, which is now removing me, may soon call for you,\nand then I hope you will find that consolation in the death of a\ndespised Saviour, which it has pleased God, very unexpectedly and\nundeservedly, to give to me.\" And then, after a mutual embrace, she\ndrew back her hand, and concealed her face, as though her eyes were\nfor ever closed on things visible and temporal.\n\nThe interview with her endeared friends, Mrs. Stevens and Miss\nRoscoe, gave a fresh excitement to her feelings; but it was one\nof pure and unmingled satisfaction. They conversed together with\nintense interest on the love of Christ, and the freeness of his\nsalvation; but when any reference was made to the joys of the\nheavenly state, she merely expressed a hope that she might be\npermitted to join the innumerable throng, though doomed to remain\nunnoticed amongst them. As Mrs. Denham and the nurse were exhausted\nby excessive fatigue, having had no rest for several nights,\nMrs. Stevens's and Miss Roscoe's kind offer to stay with her was\naccepted. It was evident to all that she could not continue long;\nfor though there had been some favourable symptoms of recruited\nstrength, yet for the last few days the disease had made very rapid\nprogress, and when the physician took his leave, he said, \"Be not\nsurprised if a sudden change should take place.\" She slept through\nthe first part of the night very composedly, but about three in the\nmorning she became restless, and on being raised up in the arms\nof Miss Roscoe, she swooned for a few seconds, when she gradually\nrevived, and expressed a wish to see her parents once more. She\nfirst kissed her mother, and bade her adieu, and then her father,\nand then her two female friends, and, last of all, her old nurse;\nand after a long pause she said, \"I am dying, but not without hope\nof obtaining eternal life, through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.\"\nShe then gently reclined her head on the bosom of Mrs. Stevens, and\nbreathed her last.\n\nThus died the once gay and thoughtless Miss Denham, bearing a\ntestimony against the vanities of the world, which had ensnared\nher, and to the importance and excellence of the faith in Christ,\nwhich she had often made the theme of her ridicule. Had she felt\nthe transforming power of the truth which on one occasion she heard\nfall from the lips of Mr. Ingleby, or had she given heed to the\nwarnings which Amelia Stubbs, when dying, addressed to her, she\nmight have lived, a comfort to her parents in their old age, and\nan ornament to society; and, at a distant period, she might have\ndescended to the grave laden with the fruits of righteousness, and\nrich in the anticipations of hope. But as she chose to disregard\nthem, and devote herself to the follies and amusements of gay life,\nshe was called to taste the bitterness of death in the spring-time\nof her years; yet mercy spared her till she sought the redemption\nof her soul, through faith in the death of the Redeemer, while\nmany are left in their last hours on earth to seek for enjoyment\namidst scenes of folly, and then, when death comes, they pass into\nthe eternal world, for which they have made no preparation. What\nconsternation and horror will then seize them! A ceaseless storm of\nagony, which never abates, and from which there is no escape. O,\nreader,\n\n  \"Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRACTARIAN AT FAULT.\n\n\nSoon after the Rev. Mr. Roscoe and his lady returned home, Miss\nRoscoe received the following letter from her aunt:--\n\n\"MY DEAR SOPHIA,--We are again at home, and in good health; but\nbefore I say anything about home, I will give you a short account\nof the adventures of our journey. We had, for nearly half the\ndistance, two gentlemen for our fellow-travellers--one a Roman\nCatholic, the other a Protestant--whom I shall call Mr. O'Brian and\nMr. Robertson. Mr. O'Brian was a very demure-looking man, with a\nlarge head, overhanging brows, and strongly marked with a severe yet\nself-complacent expression. On taking his seat, he at once opened a\nnewspaper and commenced reading. At length, having wearied himself\nby the intensity of his reading, or having exhausted the subject\nmatter of his paper, he folded it up, put it on his knee, took off\nhis spectacles, and then placing them cautiously in an elegant\nsilver case, he slightly changed his position, and appeared equally\nintent in looking at the varied beauties of nature.\n\n\"Mr. Robertson requested that he would favour him with the use of\nthe paper. The favour was granted in silence, and with a somewhat\nhaughty bow.\n\n\"Mr. Robertson, who sat opposite me, was an interesting and\nintelligent-looking man, with a bold, yet rather facetious-looking\ncountenance; while reading, I was much struck with his appearance,\nhis features underwent such frequent and rapid changes of\nexpression. It seemed to me that he had met with something which\nalternately amused his fancy and roused his ire. The paper, I should\ntell you, was from the Roman Catholic press, and contained some\nmarvellous tales, the description of some gorgeous ecclesiastical\nceremonies, and a Jesuitical defence of the Catholic clergy, on whom\nthe editor lavished many praises, for their active benevolence and\ntheir earnestness in the grand work of saving the people.\n\n\"On returning the paper, Mr. Robertson said, 'I greatly dislike\nthese marvellous tales, because I think them legendary inventions;\nand I greatly dislike these pompous ceremonies, because they do not\nharmonize with the beautiful simplicity of the religion of the New\nTestament; and though I have no doubt but some of your priests are\nmen of active benevolence, yet I do not think they have any more\npower to save the people than any other men.'\n\n[Illustration: DISCUSSION IN THE STAGE COACH.\n\nVol. i. page 422.]\n\n\"'Perhaps, Sir,' said Mr. O'Brian, 'you are what in common parlance\nwe call an unbeliever.'\n\n\"'No, Sir, I am not; I believe in the plenary inspiration and\nabsolute authority of the Bible; but I have no faith in the\ninfallibility or divinely delegated power of any order of\npriesthood; pure sham pretensions, Sir.'\n\n\"'But, Sir, our priests are the regular successors of the apostles.'\n\n\"'They may be, but what then? Do you mean to imply, in this category\nof their descent, that they are endowed with the same power and\nauthority as the apostles?'\n\n\"'Most certainly I do.'\n\n\"'Indeed! that is claiming a good deal of what is superhuman. The\napostles had power to work miracles; but do these priests of yours\never do such a thing as open the eyes of a blind man, or raise a\ndead man to life.'\n\n\"'No, Sir, they do not pretend to do such things. The power and\nauthority which is delegated to them is spiritual; to act not on\nmatter but on mind; to remit or retain its sins.'\n\n\"'The apostles never possessed this spiritual power, or if they did,\nthey never exercised it.'\n\n\"'I beg your pardon, Sir, but you are mistaken.'\n\n\"'To the law and the testimony; specify one case in which any one of\nthe apostles ever ventured on forgiving any man his sins.'\n\n\"'I have not my New Testament with me, or I could prove the truth of\nwhat I say.'\n\n\"'I know all the facts of the New Testament, and if you will only\nrefer to any one case, I will give it to you with all its details.'\n\n\"No reply.\n\n\"'No, Sir; the apostles always directed the attention of the guilty,\nfor the remission of their sins, to God, seated on a throne of\ngrace; or directly to Jesus Christ, as a Saviour mighty to save. I\ncertainly will give your priests the credit of acting a very cunning\npart in one particular, relating to the possession of apostolic\npowers.'\n\n\"'A very cunning part, Sir! in what particular?'\n\n\"'Why, the apostles proved that they had power to work visible\nmiracles; but this power your priests lay no claim to, because,\nif they did, they would be challenged to the proof; but they\nclaim an authority to forgive sins (after certain cash payments\nare made), which authority the apostles never exercised; and when\nthey are asked for a proof that they possess it, they have none to\noffer except their own fallible testimony. However, their deluded\ndevotees very meekly hand over the cash, which the priest very\ngravely pockets, reminding me of the Ephesian jugglers, who said, in\njustification of their zeal for the great goddess Diana, \"_Sirs, ye\nknow that by this craft we have our living_.\" This, Sir, is worse\nthan mere sham; it is a daring usurpation of the Divine prerogative,\nwhich is no less than an act of blasphemy; _for who can forgive sins\nbut God only?_'\n\n\"No reply.\n\n\"When Mr. O'Brian left us, his place was filled up by an elderly\nman, the most profane person I ever travelled with. I watched the\nchanging countenance of Mr. Robertson, the rapid contraction and\ndistention of his brow, his intent and eager look of indignation.\nAvailing himself of a short pause, he said, with a very stern look,\nand in an authoritative tone, 'If, Sir, you have no reverence for\nGod, I hope you will pay some respect to a lady, and leave off such\nprofane, disgusting utterances.'\n\n\"'I suppose, Sir, you are a believer in the Bible?'\n\n\"'I am, Sir.'\n\n\"'I am not. I don't believe that God takes any notice of what we say\nor do.'\n\n\"'It is very possible, Sir, you may feel the full force of your\nbelief at some future period of your history.'\n\n\"'You speak ambiguously; will you explain your meaning?'\n\n\"'Why, Sir, it is possible you may feel, when dying, what the\ngenerality of your profane fraternity feel--intense remorse and some\nawful forebodings--and may, as they have often done, cry aloud for\nmercy; and then you may be made to feel that God takes no notice of\nwhat you say or do.'\n\n\"'I don't believe in a futurity; I no more expect to live after\ndeath comes, than I expect my dead dog to live again, or that a\nrotten cabbage-stalk will spring up into vegetable life again.'\n\n\"'Well, Sir, if you choose to die like a dog, or rot like a cabbage\nstump, you will permit me to say that I don't admire your taste.'\n\n\"'I defy you to prove that I shall live after I am dead.'\n\n\"'You need not defy me to do that, for I assure you I have no wish\nto do so; and really the sooner such profane beings go out of\nexistence the better; if not for their own sakes, yet certainly for\nthe sake of others.'\n\n\"This last stroke of caustic severity struck the evil spirit dumb,\nand he left us very soon after.\n\n\"Your uncle took no notice of any occurrence during the whole of\nthe journey; he entered into no conversation, but appeared deeply\nabsorbed in his own thoughts, and since his return he very rarely\nleaves his study, except for his meals, and these he often takes in\nalmost total silence. An incident occurred on Saturday week, which,\nwhen viewed in connection with the strange alteration of his habits\nand manners, induces me to hope that his religious opinions, like my\nown, are undergoing a decided change. He said to me, 'I shall read\nthe service to-morrow, and my curate shall preach;' assigning as the\nreason for such an unusual arrangement, that he could not select a\nsermon to his mind; adding, 'I must get a new set.' What spiritual\ninfluence that visit is now exerting over him, time alone will\nshow; but as it relates to myself, I assure you, my dear Sophia,\nI shall never forget it; and I hope the vivid impressions of the\nsuperlative importance of personal piety which I received, will\nnever become obliterated. The idea which most forcibly struck me was\none which came out incidentally at our interview with the excellent\nMrs. Stevens--_that genuine religion was a source of mental bliss_;\nit takes its rise in the heart, and brings us into contact with a\nliving Saviour. As soon as this grand idea took possession of my\nmind, I saw the absurdity, and I may say the impiety of deifying\nthe ceremonies of religion, by ascribing a regenerating power to\nbaptism, an absolving power to confirmation, and a saving power\nto the priesthood of any church. O! how often have I uttered, in\nconjunction with others, when in church, the following prayer: '_O\nGod the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy upon us, miserable\nsinners_.' But I never _felt_ myself a miserable sinner till _now_.\nI never _felt_ the need of mercy till _now_. I uttered the prayer\nquite mechanically, not from the heart; but _now_ I feel its\nappropriateness and its urgent necessity; and I begin to hope he\nwill have mercy on me and on my dear husband.\n\n\"You are aware that my sister, who is an eminently devout woman, is\nalso a Dissenter; and hitherto, when she has visited us, we have\nfelt some objection to her staying over the Sunday, because, having\nno sympathy with your uncle's style of preaching, she could not go\nwith us to church; and we both felt a reluctance to tolerate an\ninmate of the rectory going to a Dissenting chapel. But the other\nevening, when alluding to her expected visit, he said to me, 'I\nhope she will remain with us some weeks; and I see no good reason\nwhy we should object to her attending the Dissenting chapel, as we\nknow she prefers it. The apostle commands us to be _courteous_; and\nhence we must not suffer any of our ecclesiastical antipathies or\npredilections to set aside the law of Christian politeness.' This\nfirst budding of liberality was hailed by me with more delight than\nwe feel when gathering the first snow-drop of spring; in itself a\nproof that our visit has thawed away the ice-bound antipathies of a\nfrigid ecclesiastical formalism. Remember me most affectionately to\nyour papa and mamma, and believe me to be, my dear Sophia, your most\naffectionate aunt,\n\n  \"A. R.\"\n\nSoon after receiving this letter, Miss Roscoe wrote to her aunt, in\nthe following terms:--\n\n\"MY DEAR AUNT,--Yours of the 14th more than delighted us; it excited\nour gratitude to the Author of all good desires and all holy\ncounsels; and both mamma and papa have consented that I should come\nto you as soon as I can conveniently get ready. I often prayed,\nwhile you were with us, that your visit might prove a spiritual\nblessing to us all; and I now indulge the hope that the Lord is\nanswering my prayers. To see you and my dear uncle moving out of\ndull, monotonous formality, into newness of life, and to hail you as\nfellow-heirs of the grace of life, will be indeed the consummation\nof bliss. With united affection to you and yours,\n\n  \"SOPHIA.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Roscoe had not preached for many Sundays, leaving\nthis part of his clerical duties to be performed by his curate;\nand one evening, when in conversation with his family, he made\na communication that startled them. Alluding to the discussions\nwhich had taken place at his brother's mansion, he said, \"They\nhave altogether unfitted me for my ministerial functions. I cannot\npreach _now, for I do not know what to preach_. I am compelled to\nrenounce my former belief, and I see no alternative but to adopt the\nevangelical faith; and yet I do not clearly understand it. It is at\npresent enveloped in a thick mist, which may possibly clear off as\nI pursue my inquiries; and yet I scarcely know how to pursue them.\nHowever, I have decided on one important step, which I have no doubt\nwill startle many, and may bring upon me some opprobrium, and that\nis, I have engaged an evangelical preacher to succeed my present\ncurate, who leaves next Sunday, having obtained preferment. My new\ncurate may prove to me a counsellor and a guide.\" The effect of this\nunexpected announcement was electrical, and some tears were shed, as\nan homage of gratitude to the God of all grace.\n\n\"I hope, Sir,\" said Mrs. Burder, \"the Divine Spirit is gently\nleading you out of the darkness of theological error, into the\nmarvellous light of pure, evangelical truth; and though for a while\na thick mist of obscurity may envelope some parts of its harmonious\ntheory, yet if you follow on to know the Lord, the pathway of your\ninquiry will become clearer and brighter, till in the progress of\ntime you will comprehend, by practical experience of its power, what\nthe apostle designates the height and the depth, the breadth and\nthe length of the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge; and then\nyou will have both joy and peace in believing.\"\n\n\"It will, indeed,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, \"be a delight to my soul to\nhear pure evangelical truth proclaimed in our church, in which a\ncold and frigid Tractarianism, which I never very well liked, has\nlong been in the ascendant.\"\n\n\"And to hear it proclaimed by my dear uncle,\" said Miss Roscoe,\n\"will be as joyous to my heart as the coming up of John the\nBaptist out of the wilderness, proclaiming the speedy appearance\nof the Messiah, was to the devout Jews, who were waiting for the\nconsolation of Israel.\"\n\n\"Your father, my dear Sophia, has been the means of effecting a\nthorough revolution in my theological opinions and belief; but had\nthere not been another power presiding over our discussions, more\npowerful than his cogent arguments, my haughty spirit would never\nhave yielded to him the palm of victory. Yes, and I am not ashamed\nto avow it, '_by the grace of God I am what I am_.' I have always\nloved my brother as my brother, but now, henceforth, I shall love\nand revere him, as my spiritual father in Christ.\"\n\n\"Do you recollect, uncle, what part of the discussion made the first\nand the deepest impression against your Tractarianism, and in favour\nof evangelical truth?\"\n\n\"Yes; I felt staggered by the case of Simon Magus,[19] as a\nself-evident proof that baptism is not regeneration. The argument\nrising out of the possible loss[20] of a parish register I felt to\nbe very powerful. I was also, more than once during our debates,\nvery solemnly impressed by your father's serious and intense\nearnestness; but one expression he uttered, when replying to some\nobservations of your aunt, went to the core of my heart, and I could\nnot extract it.\"\n\n  [19] See page 321.\n\n  [20] See page 348.\n\n\"Do you recollect the expression?\" said Miss Roscoe.\n\n\"Yes, and its accompaniments, and the long train of reflections it\ngave rise to. It was this:--'All false religions take man as he is,\nand leave him essentially the same; but in genuine religion the\n_man_ changes,'[21] and I saw an illustration and confirmation of\nthis in your papa. I recollected the time when he was as decided\na Tractarian as myself, equally averse to evangelical truth, and\nmore intolerant in his spirit against others. The conversion of\nSaul of Tarsus did not excite more astonishment amongst the Jews\nand the disciples of Christ, than I felt at the change which had\ntaken place in my brother. In him I saw a living proof that the\n_man changes_,[21] and I saw also that the change brought him into\na nearer spiritual conformity to the primitive disciples of Jesus\nChrist. Then the emphatic exclamation of your aunt helped on this\nnew process of thinking and feeling, and my spirit instinctively\nresponded to the truthfulness of her utterance, 'I must have the\nreligion of principle--that of mere form has no life; it does not\nbring me into contact with a living Saviour.'\"\n\n[21] See page 344.\n\n\"I often felt,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, addressing her niece,\n\"when associating with your friends, that I was with persons of a\nnew order, very diverse in spirit and in style of speech to our\nTractarian neighbours,--advocates for the same ecclesiastical\nceremonies, but regarding them merely as the external medium for the\nconveyance of Divine truth and grace to the mind; not magnifying\nthem, as endowed with any mysterious, self-contained power to\noperate by their own immediate agency. But the point of difference\nwhich struck me most forcibly, was their constant reference to the\nabsolute necessity of a supernatural renovation of the soul, and the\ninfusion of a new and spiritual life.\"\n\n\"And, my dear aunt, was this the only point of difference which you\ndiscerned between us and your Tractarian friends?\"\n\n\"O no. Perhaps if I refer to a passage in a sermon which I heard\nthe venerable Mr. Ingleby preach, it will give you an idea of the\nother point of difference I perceived. It was contained in a sermon\nfrom John iii. 14, 15, and was to this effect: Jesus Christ stands\nin the same relation to us which the elevated brazen serpent did to\nthe bitten Israelites--every one who looked to it was healed. We,\nas sinners, are thus addressed: 'Look unto me, and be ye saved, all\nthe ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is none else' (Isa.\nxlv. 22). 'You are not,' he said, with intense earnestness, 'to look\nto your virtues for salvation, nor are you to look to your religious\nceremonies for salvation; but you are to look to Jesus Christ,\nsymbolized by the brazen serpent of the Hebrew camp, a living\nSaviour, and one mighty to save.' This was a beautiful passage,\nbeautiful from its simplicity and its adaptation to our condition.\nI have been baptized, confirmed, have taken the sacrament many\ntimes, and have passed through the entire process of ecclesiastical\ntraining, but I now find I am not spiritually regenerated, and that\nI need a Saviour just as much as any unbaptized heathen.\"\n\n\"Tractarians,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"neither deny nor repudiate Jesus\nChrist; they maintain his original dignity, and often depict, in\nstrongly exciting language, his humiliation and his sufferings.\nThey also extol him as the perfection of moral dignity, combined\nwith personal excellencies of the purest order; but they do not\ngive to him that prominence as a Saviour mighty to save, which the\ninspired writers and which the evangelical clergy give to him. His\nsubstitutional work they virtually reject, as we do the legend of\nbaptismal regeneration. He is, in their ecclesiastical domain,\nmore as the spectre of the Christian faith, moving silently in dim\ntwilight amongst its established forms and lifeless ceremonies, than\nas the ever-living Son of God, giving life to the spiritually dead,\nhealing the moral disorders of fallen humanity, and saving the chief\nof sinners from everlasting woe.\"\n\nOn Sunday afternoon they all went to church, and heard the curate\ndeliver his farewell sermon, which, like most sermons of the same\nschool, was a pompous eulogium on the church, its apostolic orders,\nand its sacraments. Jesus Christ was visible in the remote distance,\nbut not drawing the people to himself by the virtue of his death;\nthe efficacy of the attractive power was deposited in the laver of\nbaptism, and the absolution of the priesthood.\n\n\"I am devoutly thankful,\" said Mrs. Roscoe, as they were returning\nfrom church, \"that this is the last sermon of the Tractarian school\nwe shall have from this pulpit.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Miss Roscoe, as they were chatting together after\ntea, \"we shall be guilty of no offence against any law of our\nstatute-book if we go together to the Dissenting chapel this\nevening, as we have no service at church.\"\n\n\"I shall not object,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"to your going; but if I\ngo, now that I have appointed an evangelical curate to do duty at\nchurch, a report may be raised that I am going to turn Dissenter.\nThis would most likely operate to my prejudice. However, I intend to\nhear the sermon, which I can do very easily by walking in the garden\nalongside the chapel, where I have of late heard many of Mr. Davis's\nsermons, and have more than admired them; I have felt them.\"\n\n\"My uncle! you progress in liberality rather rapidly. I hope this\nis not a sign that you will soon be taken from us; choice fruit\nsometimes gets prematurely ripe.\"\n\n\"O no. I am not meet for heaven as yet. But now that I begin to\nknow and feel the real power of the truth on my _heart_, I shall\nthrow off the mantle of bigotry; it never sits gracefully on a true\nbeliever in Christ. One faith ought to produce one spirit--the\nspirit of love and Christian fellowship. We shall all be one in\nheaven, and why not all one on earth?\"\n\nThe text for the evening sermon was part of the 29th verse of the\n34th chapter of the prophecies of Ezekiel--\"A PLANT OF RENOWN.\"\nAfter a concise exposition of the prophecy, Mr. Davis remarked, \"It\nis not my intention to give you a lecture on the future restoration\nof the Jews to the land of their fathers, but rather to fix your\nattention on that glorious _One_ who is announced in my text under\nthe beautifully appropriate image of a plant of renown. That it\nrefers exclusively to Jesus Christ I shall take for granted, and the\nfollowing is the leading question I mean to discuss--What is the\nprimary cause to which his pre-eminent distinction and celebrity\nmay be attributed? That there are some subordinate causes which\nhave contributed to it, I readily admit, such as his miracles,\nhis teaching, and the moral grandeur and social loveliness of his\ncharacter; but these, though brilliant and imposing, are not enough\nto account for the unparalleled celebrity which he still maintains\nin universal estimation. For suppose, after performing the miracles\nwhich he did perform, and after conveying the knowledge of spiritual\ntruths which he did convey, and after developing the character which\nhe did develope, he had suddenly disappeared, like Enoch or Elijah,\ndoing nothing more in behalf of man, what an impenetrable cloud of\nmystery would hang over the design of his appearing on earth? We\nshould, in that case, be reduced to the necessity of believing that\nthe greatest, the wisest, and the most benevolent being that ever\nappeared in the human form, came and went away without accomplishing\nany purpose commensurate with the moral grandeur of his character,\nor the vastness of his resources for practical utility. He would\nflit before our imagination as a wonderful being, but a being\nof no essential importance to us. His history might live in our\nrecollection without exciting an emotion of gratitude or of love,\nor it might pass from our recollection without our sustaining any\nperceptible loss, proving a vast brilliant mirage in the dreary\ndesert of humanity; or, like some splendid night-dream, leaving at\nthe dawn of morning its romantic incidents feebly and uselessly\nimprinted on the fancy. If, then, his splendid miracles, his sublime\nrevelation of spiritual truth, and his unique character, blending in\nequal proportions the perfections of divinity with the excellencies\nof unfallen humanity, are insufficient to account for his unfading\nand ever-increasing celebrity, and for the absolute dominion he\nholds over the thoughts, the admiration, and the supreme affection\nof his disciples, of every tribe and every grade of the intellectual\nand social world, to what other cause are we to attribute it? To\nwhat other cause! to his death, and the relation in which he stands,\nby virtue of his death, to the great family of man. He came to give\nhis life a ransom for many; his life he gave, laying it down of\nhimself; he suffered, the just for the unjust; he died for us.\n\n\"Death severs all relative connections; but the living survivors\ncan derive no benefit from the departed, because all intercourse\nis broken off, and the medium of communication destroyed. But here\nis an exception to the universal rule; by giving his life as a\nransom for sinners, he became the Saviour of all who believe in\nhim, and his death is the mystic power which brings them into a\nclose and indissoluble union and fellowship with him. John Bunyan,\nwhen incarcerated in Bedford jail, was building up his fame as one\nof the most sagacious moral philosophers of his age; his genius,\nhaving gauged the depth of human sorrow, discovered and made known\nthe source of its alleviation and relief--by an allegorical form\nof representation, which charms the imagination while it touches\nthe heart. His Pilgrim leaves the City of Destruction with a heavy\nburden on his back, and he groans beneath its weight through every\nstage of his progress, till, on ascending a little eminence, he\nsuddenly and unexpectedly descries the cross, when in a moment the\nstraps of his burden snap asunder; it rolls off and disappears. This\nwas to him a joyful discovery; and he exclaims, 'He hath given me\nrest by his sorrow, and life by his death.' Yes, brethren--\n\n                        ----'The cross!\n    There and there only, is the power to save.\n    There no delusive hope invites despair;\n    No mock'ry meets you, no deception there.\n    The spells and charms that blinded you before,\n    All vanish there, and fascinate no more.'\n\nHence, when a sinner feels the pressure of guilt on his conscience,\nand stands terror-struck lest the wrath of God should fall upon him,\nhe looks by faith to Jesus Christ giving his life a ransom, and then\na power is emitted which soothes his sorrows and allays his fears,\nand gives him joy and peace in believing. And when he arrives at the\ngreat crisis of his destiny, conscious that he is going from this\nworld into the great world of spirits, what is it that braces up the\nnerves of his soul, now on the eve of becoming disembodied? what\nis it that gives buoyancy to his hope, and calmness if not ecstasy\nto his feelings? what is it that acts with such great power at\nsuch an eventful crisis?--it is a simple trust in the efficacy of\nthe death of Jesus Christ. Hence you may often hear the departing\nbeliever saying, as his last audible utterance, _Who loved me_, and\nGAVE HIMSELF FOR ME; and his conscious assurance of this great fact\ndisarms death of his sting, and he passes onward into the eternal\nworld with a hope full of immortality.\"\n\nAfter proving that he will maintain his celebrity through all future\nperiods of time, and onwards for ever, both in the estimation\nof the saved and the lost--the saved will never forget him, or\ncease to feel the manifestations of his love; nor will the lost\never forget him, or cease to feel the terror of his righteous\ndispleasure--he concluded his sermon as follows:--\"Will those doomed\nspirits, who were his contemporaries during his earthly sojourn,\nand who distinguished themselves by their daring and unprovoked\nhostility, ever forget his appearance when they held him under their\nsubjection, or his appearance now he has them under his own? Will\nJudas ever forget taking the sop, and then going deliberately away\nto receive the reward of treachery? Will he ever forget re-entering\nthe garden, passing along its lonely pathway, followed by an armed\nforce, and stepping forward in advance to give the appointed signal,\nby saluting him? Will he ever forget the tortuous question, which\nstill vibrates on his ear--'_Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man\nwith a kiss_?' Will Caiaphas, the high-priest, ever forget rending\nhis clothes, and accusing him of blasphemy, because he admitted he\nwas the Son of God? Or will any of his associates in the council\never forget that they once spat in his face, and buffeted him, and\nsmote him with the palms of their hands? Will Herod and his men of\nwar, now seeing him on his throne of majesty, ever forget setting\nhim at nought, and mocking him, arraying him in a gorgeous robe,\nand dismissing him in derisive scorn and contempt? Will Pilate ever\nforget when the Lord of glory stood as a criminal at his tribunal?\nor when, after pronouncing his innocence, he ordered him to be\nstripped, and scourged, and then sent him forth to the death of\ntorture and infamy? Will the man who placed the crown of thorns on\nhis head, or the man who put the reed of mockery in his hand, or the\nmen who nailed him to the cross, or the debased malefactor, whose\nlast breath was spent in reviling him--or will any of the Scribes\nand the Pharisees, whose malignant spirit gave an impulse and a tone\nto the infuriated rabble, ever forget what they did and what they\nsaid against _Him_ who now sits on the throne of majesty and of\npower, and the day of whose vengeance is come? Ah! no. He will be\nheld in everlasting remembrance by celestial and infernal spirits,\nand by the saved and the lost, who once sojourned in this vale of\ntears.\"\n\n\"There is,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"I must confess, a power and an\nimpressiveness in this style of preaching, as much superior to our\ncold and formal Tractarianism, as the beauty and the fertility of\nsummer surpasses the icy chills and sterility of winter.\"\n\n\"The one,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"is the empire of death; the other, of\nlife.\"\n\n\"I long,\" said Mrs. John Roscoe, \"for next Sunday, when I hope we\nshall hear, for the first time in our church, the glorious gospel of\nthe blessed God.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Sabbath dawned, and it was a lovely day. Public curiosity had\nbeen awakened by the suddenness and novelty of the change; the\nchurch was crowded, for the fame of the preacher had preceded\nhim. The service was read by the Rev. Mr. Roscoe. His new curate\nentered the pulpit with graceful ease, his countenance betokening\na deep sense of his responsibility to God and to the people, to\nact a faithful part in the ministration of Divine truth. His text\nwas a very appropriate one, and it was announced with impressive\ndistinctness, yet in a mild and rather pathetic tone: \"_Unto me,\nwho am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given,\nthat I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of\nChrist_\" (Eph. iii. 8). After a very brief introduction, he said,\n\"Here are two things to which I will now call your attention,\nfirst, the estimate which the apostle forms of himself; and, second,\nthe commission he was engaged to execute.\" A few extracts from the\n_second_ division of his discourse, may not be unacceptable to the\nintelligent reader. He first gave a graphic sketch of the impure\nand degrading mythology of the Gentile world, and the safeguards\nwhich were placed around it, by the sagacity of its priests, in\nconjunction with imperial authority, to protect it against any\nmovements which might be made to subvert it, or bring it under the\nban of popular outrage or odium. He then represented Paul taking\na survey of it, meditating on its antiquity, its imposing and\nbeguiling fascinations, its undisputed ascendency over the passions\nand prejudices of the people, exclaiming, in anticipation of its\noverthrow, But _who is sufficient_ to do it? \"His faith, brethren,\"\nsaid the preacher, \"was as strong as his zeal was ardent; and while\nconscious that he was in himself less than the least of all saints,\nyet he knew he had received a commission to go forth and destroy\nthis stronghold of Satanic impurity and crime, and he was to do this\nby preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ.\n\n\"1. The subject of his preaching was _defined_. He was to preach\nabout Jesus Christ. He doubtless told the people that Jesus Christ\nwas the Son of God, who had appeared on earth in the likeness of\nmen; and then, after giving a sketch of his character, detailing\nsome of his miracles, and repeating some of his sayings, he\nannounced his ignominious and agonizing death. Had Paul been an\nimpostor or a fanatic, and had Jesus Christ been, what our German\ninfidels say he was, a mythical being, the apostle would have cast\nthe myth of his death into the shade, under a full conviction\nthat it was far more likely to elicit the expression of scornful\ncontempt, than to awaken any poignant or sublime emotions in the\nsouls of the people. But no; his death is the chief subject of the\napostle's preaching--the magnetic power of a mysterious attraction,\nawakening morbid sensibilities, and stirring death itself into\nvigorous life; it is _the_ fact of his extraordinary history on\nwhich he dwells with impassioned earnestness: 'For I determined not\nto know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified'\n(1 Cor. ii. 2). He does not dwell on his tragical death to excite\npopular odium against his murderers, nor to excite popular sympathy\nor admiration by a description of the calm self-possession and the\nmoral dignity he displayed in his sufferings; but he dwells on it\nas a marvellous manifestation of Divine benevolence: 'For God so\nloved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever\nbelieveth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life' (John\niii. 16; Rom. v).\n\n\"2. The subject of his preaching was _exclusive_. He had, as\nmodern preachers have, a great variety of subjects which he could\nhave introduced in his public ministrations; and we know that on\nsome occasions he did avail himself of them, as when at Athens he\nexposed the absurdity of the superstitions of the people; and as\nwhen, addressing Felix, he reasoned on righteousness, temperance,\nand judgment to come, making that licentious man tremble, in the\npresence of his courtiers, under the terror of his appeals; but in\ngeneral, the pity and the love of Christ for perishing sinners, and\nhis power and willingness to save them, constituted the leading\ntheme of his simple and subduing eloquence. Yes, brethren, and this\nis the only theme which can render the ministrations of the pulpit\nattractive and impressive; because it is the power of God unto\nsalvation. Jesus Christ, when on the earth, said, 'I am the way, and\nthe truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father but by me'\n(John xiv. 6). Paul believed this, and he preached it; and so ought\nwe. Yes, we should enter our solemn protest against, and fearlessly\ndenounce, all the false and delusive expedients which superstition\nand infidelity devise and adopt to conciliate the Divine favour; and\nboldly maintain that there is only one way of access to the Father\nfor the forgiveness of our sins and for eternal life (Acts iv. 12).\n\n\"3. The subject of his preaching required no _adventitious\ncircumstances to make it attractive_, or to _render it successful_.\nSee 1 Cor. i. 21, 25. We have been gravely told by some of\nour Christian philosophers, who admit the Divine origin of\nChristianity, that she must be _preceded by civilization_, with its\narts and sciences, or she will never gain any splendid triumphs\namongst a rude and an uncultivated people. Then, forsooth, the\nagriculturist must know how to drain his marshes, and how to cast\nup his furrows; how to plant and prune his hedges, and how to\nconstruct his dikes; before his heart can receive the incorruptible\nseed of the truth, which liveth and abideth for ever. Then,\nforsooth, the sculptor must know how to convert, and by the most\nscientific process, the rough and shapeless block of marble into\nthe human form, before his soul can undergo a new creation in\nChrist Jesus. Then, forsooth, the painter must know how to impress\non the canvas the face of the blue heavens, its rising and its\nsetting sun; the sombrous splendour of a starlight night, and\nthe dark and fearful thunderstorm, before he can feel the moral\nattraction of the powers of the world to come. Then, forsooth,\nthe rude barbarians of the island and the desert must be located\nin towns or cities, must abandon their wigwams, their caves, and\ntheir mud huts, for well-ventilated and ceiled houses; must give\nover the chase, and cease to pluck subsistence from the unpruned\nplants of the wilderness, and participate in the luxuries of high\nliving; must have their museums and literary societies, their\ncourts of judicature, and their halls of legislation, and their\nprinting-presses, before they can be formed into Christian churches,\nto enjoy the communion of saintly brotherhood. This is what I\ncall the poetry of scepticism; something to excite or soothe the\nsentimental, and to act as a barrier to arrest the progress of the\nfaithful herald of salvation, who, like Paul, goes forth to preach\namongst the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.\n\n\"We have another set of philosophers, who have not moral courage\nenough to reject Christianity as a sham or delusion, but who gravely\ntell us _that she must submit to the operation of the law of\nprogress_, or she will never gain any conquests amongst our deep and\nprofound thinkers, or our men of refinement and of taste. She must\nnow, at the opening of this new epoch in her history--so say these\nsemi-sceptical philosophers--come out of her antiquated forms and\nrequisitions, and be moulded into a shape, and trained to a mode of\nargument and address, adapted to the intellectual attainments and\ndelicate sensibilities of the age. A chaste and classical language\nmust supersede the uncouth technicalities of the olden times; reason\nmust now be admitted as the only standard of appeal and of judgment\non all questions of belief; arbitrary dogmas must give place to new\ndiscoveries in the science of morals and of theology; and while a\nsubdued respect and reverence is still cherished in the popular\nmind for the Bible, and the institutions which are upheld by its\nauthority, yet there must be no limits prescribed to the spirit of\nfree inquiry, nor must any coercive power or ceremonial arrangement\ntrespass on the sanctity of human freedom, or on any of our civil\nor social habitudes. If we choose to dance at a ball; if we choose\nto bet at the race-stand or frequent the theatre; if we choose to\nshuffle the cards, or toss the dice, or strike at a billiard-table;\nif we choose to take recreative pleasures on a Sunday, rather than\nrender obedience to the Puritanical law of its observance, and\nchoose to offer our adorations and our orisons to the Deity beside\nmurmuring streams or gurgling fountains, or on the tops of lofty\nmountains, in preference to a church consecrated to his worship; and\nif we should have a greater liking for the poetry of Byron or of\nWordsworth than for that of David or Isaiah, and should cherish a\nstronger predilection for the novels of Scott or of Bulwer than for\nthe dull prose of prophets or of apostles, we feel that Christianity\nhas no moral right to interdict us. The day of absolutism in her\nhistory is past and gone. She may now ask to be received amongst us\nas a guest--she must not come as a despot or as a sovereign; she\nmay advise, but she must not command; she may breathe the words of\na soothing sympathy in the house of mourning, or in the chamber of\ndeath, but she must not presume to utter any denunciations, if we\nshould say to her, what Felix once said to her heroic champion, 'Go\nthy way this time, when I have a more convenient season, I will send\nfor thee.'\n\n\"And now, forsooth, we have a new set of philosophers[22] coming\nup within our own borders, men of learning and of taste, and of\nOxford or of Cambridge training, who have recently discovered that\nChristianity is not, as hitherto believed by our great theological\nauthorities, a remedial scheme of grace and truth, to recover\nman from the ruins of the fall, _but a mere educational scheme,\nto develope his inner spiritual life, and train it to a state\nof perfection_. Hence, they tell us that we are to regard Jesus\nChrist as a prophet and an example, rather than as a priest and a\nsacrifice; and that the basis of our hope of salvation is not his\nmeritorious righteousness, imputed to us and received by faith, but\nhis personal excellencies, which he displayed through the whole\ntenor of his life; these excellencies becoming inwrought in our\nsouls by an assimilative process, conducted by our own unaided\nmeditative musings. So then, according to the doctrine of this\nnew school of Christian philosophers, if I meditate, under the\nmysterious charm of an approving sympathy, on the gentleness, the\nmeekness, and the patience of Jesus Christ--on his benevolence,\nhis heroic fortitude, and his calm endurance of suffering--on the\ngraceful urbanity of his manners--on the amiability of his temper\nand spirit--and on the moral dignity of his character--I shall so\ninwork his personal righteousness in my inner spirit as to make it\nmy own; and on this my hope must rest of being justified against all\nthe charges of a violated law, and through this source I must look\nfor peace with God and for final salvation.\n\n  [22] Reference is here made to Archdeacon Hare, the Rev. Fred.\n  Maurice, chaplain of Lincoln's Inn, the Rev. Mr. Trench, professor\n  of divinity in King's College, London, and the Rev. Mr. Kingsley,\n  rector of Eversley.\n\n\"I will meet all these new discoveries and semi-profane speculations\nby one simple remark:--If the apostle had lived through all\nsucceeding ages up to the present time, he would continue to write\nand to preach as he wrote and preached to the citizens of Ephesus\nand Corinth. He would have indulged in no vain speculations, nor\nwould he have made any new discoveries. If he stood in this pulpit\nnow, and if any of the departed spirits of Ephesus or of Corinth\nwere raised from the dead to form part of his audience, they would\nsee the same man and hear the same voice, and hear that voice\ngiving utterance to the same truths, and in the same style and tone\nof proclamation. He would again tell them, as he told them when\npreaching to them, that by nature they are the children of wrath,\neven as others, and are saved by grace, through faith, and that not\nof themselves, it being the gift of God, 'not of works, lest any man\nshould boast' (Eph. ii. 9). He would preach the unsearchable riches\nof Christ.\n\n\"Hence we perceive that the theme of preaching is to be the same\nthroughout all ages, though the heralds of its proclamation may be\ndifferent men, dying off in the progress of time, to be succeeded\nby others; but woe be to that herald who dares to substitute a vain\nphilosophy, or any new discoveries, for the glorious gospel of the\nblessed God. Hear what Paul says: 'But though we, or an angel from\nheaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have\npreached unto you, let him be accursed' (Gal. i. 8). He has, I know,\nbeen censured for using such awful words of denunciation, and held\nup to popular reprobation, as breathing a malignant as well as a\ndogmatic spirit. But, brethren, allow me to ask you one question.\nDo you think it possible for human language to embody that amount\nof indignant feeling which you would virtuously cherish against the\nmonster who, on a dangerous coast, and for no personal advantage,\nwould falsify the colours of the lighthouse, or who would shift the\nbuoys on a rocky shore? No. If you could inhale the breath of the\nmost scorching vengeance, you would breathe it forth against such\nan infernal being, who is willing to become a wholesale murderer,\nbeguiling to danger and to death by the very signals which are\nappointed for life and safety. Hence heavy denunciations of woe on\nsome special occasions are the utterances of pure benevolence. And\nthis is strictly correct in reference to Paul. He knew that the\ngospel he preached was a true and faithful saying, the power of God\nto salvation; and consequently any gospel in opposition to it would\nbe false and fatal: and hence he sends forth his warning voice,\nas you would send forth yours if you saw a man in the very act of\nchanging the signals of safety for those of destruction and of death.\n\n\"In conclusion, brethren, ever remember that preaching is only the\nproclamation of mercy and of grace. It is an instrument of power;\nbut it is nothing more. To you the word of salvation is now brought,\nand to you it has been delivered this night; will you receive it,\nor will you reject it? If you receive it in faith and in love, it\nwill prove a savour of life unto life; but if you reject or neglect\nit, it will prove a savour of death unto death. On its reception or\nrejection your eternal destiny is dependent, and shall that destiny\nbe endless happiness or endless woe? Decide; now is the accepted\ntime.\"\n\nThe congregation listened with close attention, and appeared\npowerfully excited; a deep solemnity was the predominant expression\nof almost every countenance, quite unlike the apathetic indifference\nof former times. On passing away from the church, with Mrs. Roscoe\nand his niece, who were in an ecstasy of delight, one of Mr.\nRoscoe's most intelligent hearers said to him, \"You have now, Sir,\na curate who is an honour to your pulpit; he knows his work, and\nhas given us a proof that he knows how to do it; he will very soon\nfill the church, for we need, and have long felt the want of a pure\nevangelical gospel. Under such a ministry we shall soon see some\nsigns of spiritual life amongst us.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE POPULAR DELUSION.\n\n\nA rumour having reached us that the venerable Mr. Ingleby had met\nwith an accident on his return from a visitation, we made a call at\nthe rectory, and had the gratification to find that it was a false\nreport. Mr. and Miss Roscoe and Mr. Lewellin came while we were\nthere; he detained us to tea, and then gave us an account of his\njourney, which, though unattended by any remarkable incidents, was\nboth interesting and instructive.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I was much pleased with our bishop; he is\na commanding figure in the pulpit, with a clear sonorous voice,\nand very graceful action. I never heard a more natural speaker.\nBut he has other, and still greater excellencies; he is a truly\ngodly man--a spiritually-minded man; and he equals, if he does not\nsurpass, both in purity of doctrine and impressiveness of manner,\nthe most distinguished of our prelates.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It is to be regretted that our bishops don't preach\nas Paul and the other apostles preached--in season and out of\nseason--anywhere and at any time; proving, by the multiplicity of\ntheir labours, that they are in earnest in their efforts to save\nsouls from perishing.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"There is some difference between our modern\nEpiscopal bishops and the bishops of the New Testament, though they\nprofess to be their lineal descendants.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, the bishops of the New Testament were fishermen\nor tent-makers; men of a meek and lowly spirit, who coveted no\nman's gold or silver; they thirsted for no secular honour; in their\nown estimation they were less than the least of all saints; and\nthe highest point of their ambition was to preach amongst Jews\nand Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, regardless of the\nprivations and sufferings to which this exposed them. But a mitre\nnow adorns the brow of our Episcopal bishops; there is a graceful\nmagnificence in their appearance, and they are in general men of a\nlofty bearing; their superb palaces are decorated with the skilful\ndevices of sculptors and painters; they roll in carriages, and\nfare sumptuously every day; they may be seen occupying their seats\nin the legislative council of the nation, and on days of public\naudience C\u00e6sar admits them into his august presence, and his princes\nand nobles do not hesitate to bow down and do them homage. What a\nstriking contrast between the primitive and our modern bishops!\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"And you may add, Sir, between the primitive church\nof the apostles, and our modern Episcopal Church. The latter is\ndistinguished by its wealth and splendour, the former by its extreme\nsimplicity and purity. The Apostolic Church was founded for the\nedification and safety of its members, who were an incorporation\nof independent freemen, to whom the right of private judgment was\nconceded; the Episcopal Church is an ecclesiastical institution,\nestablished for the support of an hierarchical priesthood, who, like\ndespots, admit of no interference from the people over whom their\njurisdiction extends.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I must confess that I should like to see our\nchurch brought into a nearer resemblance to the Apostolic Church\nof the New Testament; but still I think we may look upon it, with\nall its faults, as a national blessing; and if we could get the\nTractarians expelled, it would stand as a mighty breakwater against\nthe drifting currents of Popery and infidelity.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But most of our bishops have a strong bias towards\nTractarianism, because it is so favourable to their spiritual\ndespotism; it increases and consolidates their power, and under its\nsway the lay members of the church are reduced to a state of abject\nsubmissiveness to the priesthood, similar to the condition of the\nmembers of the Church of Rome. The inferior order of priests rule\nthe people, and the bishops govern the priests; the laity have no\nvoice in the appointment of any of them; and if, as is sometimes\nthe case, they object to their teachings as having a tendency to\nestablish Roman Catholicism on the ruins of the Protestant faith,\nthey can obtain no redress against such a fatal result.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"But, happily, there are exceptions to this\ngeneral rule, and our bishop is a very decided one. He is a good\nand faithful minister of Jesus Christ, imbued with a _Pauline_\nspirit; and the sermon which he delivered to his clergy was both\nappropriate and impressive. I was quite delighted with it, and so\nwere some of my brethren, especially our pious and intelligent lay\nbrethren. The text was taken from Rom. xiv. 17: 'For the kingdom of\nGod is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in\nthe Holy Ghost.' The bearing of the discourse was to prove that the\nessence of religion consists in supreme love to God our Saviour, and\nuniform and cheerful obedience to his revealed will; and not in a\nmere conformity to ecclesiastical regulations, and the observance of\nceremonial rites. And when addressing the clergy at the conclusion,\nhe said, 'My beloved brethren, to whom is intrusted the ministry of\nreconciliation, you will not neglect to observe the rules which the\nchurch has laid down for the government of her clergy, nor omit to\nadminister the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's supper, but ever\nkeep in mind the sacred and imperative command of your Divine Lord\nand Master--\"GO AND PREACH THE GOSPEL\"--for it is the _gospel_ which\nis the power of God to the salvation of the people. Preach it fully,\nclearly, and faithfully--in season and out of season--and with all\nthe energy of your soul. Before you enter your pulpits to preach,\nretire to your closets to get your heart imbued with the unction of\nthe Spirit; and when you return from your labours, withdraw to your\nclosets to invoke the Divine Spirit to impress your message of grace\nand mercy on the hearts of the people. Ever remember you are in some\ndegree responsible for their salvation.'\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Why, Sir, this was like an apostolic sermon. Did the\nclergy listen to it; and did they appear to like it?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, Sir, they listened, and some of them were\ndelighted with it; but I fear the majority thought it savoured too\nstrongly of the spirit of the evangelical school; they appeared\nrather restless.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I recently spent a few days with an old friend,\nwhen I was introduced to several Puseyite clergymen, with whom\nhe keeps up a close intimacy. They are, in general, accomplished\nand intelligent, but bitter in spirit against Dissenters, and, if\npossible, I think more bitter against their evangelical brethren.\nThey say the Dissenters are honest foes to the church, because they\navow their hostility; but the evangelical clergy, they say, are sly,\nartful, and dishonest, who conform to betray--take the loaves and\nthe fishes of the church, while they are labouring to destroy it.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"Of what practical use, Sir, is your act\nof uniformity? The Dissenters have no such an act in their\necclesiastical statute-book, and yet, with the exception of a few\nSocinians, we agree on all the essential truths of the Christian\nfaith, and our ministers preach in each other's pulpits without\nmaking any compromise, or giving any offence; but it is not so\namongst the clergy of your church, even though they are under a\nlegal obligation to believe alike. Why, Sir, it is Jew and Samaritan\ndwelling together in the land of promise, still refusing to have any\ndealings with each other, though they avow allegiance to the same\nprince.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Sir, our clergy are two distinct orders of men,\nsubscribing to the same creed; yet the faith for which some contend,\nas the original faith once delivered to the saints, is disdainfully\nrejected by others as false doctrine.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"The evil which you, Sir, and other stanch\nChurchmen see and deplore, without being able to correct it, takes\nits rise in this plain palpable fact--the reformation from Popery\nin England was not a thorough reformation; it was no plucking\nup by the root, as in Scotland; it was mere topping and lopping\nwork. It was more like a transfer of the Papacy, a little changed\nand a little modified, from the Pope to the English monarch, to\nanswer his ambitious purpose, than a transformation of the Papal\nsuperstition into the Protestant faith of the New Testament.\nWhy, Sir, there is very little difference between a Tractarian\nclergyman and a Roman Catholic priest; they both claim the same high\nprerogatives, and arrogate to themselves the same submissiveness\non the part of the people, restrict salvation within the pale of\ntheir own church, and assume a delegated power to discharge all\nthe functions of their office, without any acknowledgment of their\ndependence on a supernatural agency. They are dogmatic, imperious,\nand intolerant--spiritual Ishmaelites, whose hands are against every\nman belonging to another order; they are, in temper and in spirit,\na perfect contrast to the apostles of the New Testament, from whom\nthey profess to derive their descent.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Your description is strong, but, alas! it is\ntoo true. I recollect one day, when there was a large number of\nTractarian clergy at my friend's, being rather provoked by the\nPapal-like style of speech which prevailed amongst them, and\navailing myself of a favourable opportunity, I said, 'Gentlemen,\nI can hardly bring my mind to believe that you are the genuine\nsuccessors of the apostles, as you assume to yourselves a\nself-sufficient power for the performance of your duties. The\napostles spoke as men who were appointed to act ministerially,\nalways acknowledging that their success depended on the concurrence\nof a Divine power; and when they were successful in their great\nwork, they offered up their thanksgiving to God, to whom they\nascribed the honour of their success, viewing themselves as mere\ninefficient instruments.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Did your remarks, Sir, elicit any reply?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"O no, Sir; I saw by their looks and their\nsignificant movements that they regarded them as beneath their\nnotice, because they were the remarks of a layman. Infallibles will\nnot stoop to discussion; they merely dictate like an oracle, or\ncommand like a despot.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, Sir; our clergy who advocate high church\nprinciples talk like Papal priests, and breathe the same spirit;\nand, unless they can be checked, they will assimilate the Church\nof England to the Church of Rome. Regeneration and absolution,\nwhich the sacred writers ascribe to the grace of God, they pretend\nto effect by their own delegated authority and power; and, as a\nnecessary consequence, they require the people to look to them as\nholding the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And some few of the\norder are gone so far on their way to Rome, that they require their\npenitents to enter the confessional and make a full confession of\nall their sins, before they perform the delusive act of absolution.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"One should suppose that the Papal-like extravagance\nof the Tractarian clergy would be so repugnant to the evangelical\nclergy as to keep them at an infinite distance from all adhesion to\nhigh church principles, and yet it has not this effect. They seem,\nwith rare exceptions, as much attached to these principles as the\npriests are, whom they denounce as Papists in disguise. Hence they\nwill allow no church to be a true church of Christ but the Episcopal\nChurch of England, and no minister to be a true minister of Christ\nunless he has been episcopally ordained.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, I regret to say these opinions\nare becoming very popular, and the clergy of both orders are\nendeavouring to impress them on the laity, and, I fear, with some\ndegree of success. Indeed, high church principles, which used to\nbe confined to the studies of the clergy, or merely lurked about\namongst a few grave thinkers of the monkish order, are now becoming\npopular; they are finding their way into the light reading of\nthe day, in hymns, in tales, and in memoirs; the female sex is\ncaptivated by them, and they are employing their powerful influence\nin propagating them amongst the poor, in Sabbath-schools, in\nworkhouses, and wherever they can track the foot-treads of a human\nbeing. The advocates of these principles are displaying an ardent\nand an untiring zeal, a zeal worthy of a better cause. They employ\nthe same argument amongst all classes, and with an equal amount of\nsuccess; the intelligent and the sentimental, the uneducated and\nthe uncouth, are alike ensnared by it. Ours, they say, is the true\nchurch, which Jesus Christ has purchased by his blood; enter and\nkeep in, and you will have nothing to fear at death or the day of\njudgment.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"And this belief is rising in popularity, and is\nbecoming a national delusion. It is an instrument of great power in\nthe hands of our Tractarians, as well as in the hands of the priests\nof Rome, and it is to the members of both churches a refuge of lies.\nThe infatuated Tractarians reason precisely on the same data as the\nPapists, and arrive at the same deceptive conclusion--We are members\nof the true church because we are members of the Church of England,\nand therefore we are safe--as safe, they think, as the family of\nNoah in the ark when the door was shut; and no argument, however\nscriptural or powerful, can shake their confidence in the belief of\ntheir safety.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"Yes; and so inveterate is this belief amongst a\nvast majority of the members of the Church of England, that they\nwill resent, as a personal insult, any reference to the possibility\nof their labouring under a delusion. An intimate friend related to\nme the following anecdote, which is illustrative of the facility of\nself-deception when under the power of high church principles.--He\nhad been, in the early period of his life, a gay man of fashion,\nbut he was now become a new man in Christ Jesus; and he had been a\nChurchman, but he was now a Dissenter. An old friend, with whom he\nhad lived on terms of very close intimacy when they were both gay\nmen of the world, came to reside in his neighbourhood, and he went\nto see him. On his second visit he took an opportunity of referring\nto the progress they were both making towards old age, and to the\nimportance of being prepared for an entrance into the eternal world.\nHis old friend abruptly terminated the subject of reference, by\nsaying, 'I am not disposed, Sir, to do as you have done--change my\nreligion. I am a member of the Church of England, as my father was\nbefore me; and I mean to live and die in her communion. I offer no\nopinion about what will become of schismatics; but we know that the\nmembers of the true church will be saved; and such is the Church of\nEngland.' Yet this man very seldom went to church. He was gay in his\nold age--passionately fond of gay company and high living.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"This is the common cant apology which Churchmen\noffer in defence of their utter neglect of the great salvation. I\nhad formed, some short time ago, a slight commercial intimacy with a\ngentleman; and on one occasion I ventured to call his attention to\nthe solemn interrogation of Jesus Christ--'For what shall it profit\na man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or\nwhat shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' (Mark viii. 36,\n37). He replied, with an off-hand pleasantry, 'I am not disposed,\nSir, to change my religion.' He knew I was a Dissenter. 'Why, Sir,'\nI remarked, 'I did not know that you had any religion to change,\nfor I heard you say, not long since, that you had not been inside\na church for several years.' 'True, Sir, but I am a member of the\nChurch of England, as my forefathers were as far back as we can\ntrace; and I shall live and die in her communion. You know, Sir (so\nthe apostle says), our Saviour has purchased the church, and He will\nnot let go any part of it; and therefore I am safe. Our rector, who\nis a very learned man, preached a sermon on that subject the very\nlast time I heard him; and he satisfied me that I have nothing else\nto do, to propitiate the Deity, than to keep within the pale of the\nchurch.'\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"Last winter I went to visit a very old woman,\nwhose grandson is my groom; she has attended (so she told me), all\nher life long, the parish church in which the Rev. Mr. Cole does\nduty. When I asked her if she thought she was prepared for death,\nshe replied _instanter_, 'Yes, I be, Sir. I keeps to my church.\nThere I was married, there I was confirmed, there I was christened,\nand there I had the holy sacrament many times. There my husband is\nburied, and my father and mother, and all the rest of them that\nlived before them; and there I shall be buried when I dies. I ant\nchanged my religion, Sir. It has been in our family for upwards of\na hundred years. We have all kept to our church. The Lord rest our\nsouls.'\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"I suppose, Sir, you could not lead her into\nanother way of thinking?\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"O no. Her unvarying note was, 'I keeps to my\nchurch--my blessed church.' I offered to read a chapter of the\nBible, and pray with her; but she said she had taken the sacrament\nand made her peace with God, and did not want to be troubled with\nany fresh thing.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"These are most melancholy tales. Why, it appears\nthat one great comprehensive scheme of delusion is extending its\nfatal influence both over the clergy and the laity of our church.\nOne should suppose they look upon it as the very ark of God,\ntransferred from the Levitical to the Christian dispensation. They\nmake the church their saviour. I have recently had a most painful\nconfirmation of this. I opened an epistolary correspondence, a\nfew months since, with a young lady[23] with whom I formed an\nintimacy when I was moving amidst the gay scenes of fashionable\nlife. She is both intelligent and accomplished, and of a most\namiable disposition. Having adverted to the attention I was giving\nto the paramount claims of religion, I very delicately urged her\nto consider them, as life is so uncertain; alluding, at the same\ntime, to give force to my remarks, to the death of Miss Denham, with\nwhom I knew she sometimes exchanged letters. The following is her\nreply:--'I am delighted to hear that you are becoming religious.\nOur Maker has enjoined it upon us. I resolved, when I had finished\nmy education, and before I made my _debut_ in fashionable life, to\nbecome decided, and settle everything connected with religion, as\nI knew that when I had done so I should be more at liberty to give\nattention to other claims, and to derive gratification from other\npursuits. Indeed, I may say I acted on the old maxim, \"Finish one\nthing before you commence another.\" Therefore, having perfected\nmyself in the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, the Commandments, and the\nCatechism, I passed through our curate's examination without any\ndifficulty; and, in the following week, I was confirmed by the\nBishop of London, along with several of my school-fellows. The next\nSunday I took the sacrament; and I have taken it three times since.\nSo you see, my dear friend, I am now a member of our pure apostolic\nchurch; and I am resolved to live and die in her communion. I do\nnot think the Almighty can require anything more than this; and I\nthink, if we keep steady and faithful to our church, we are sure to\ngo to heaven when we die. I advise all my young friends to follow my\nexample; but, I am sorry to say, some are too frivolous and gay to\ndo so. It is too grave a subject for them.'\"\n\n  [23] Miss Rawlins, of London.\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"It is appalling to listen to such tales as these;\nand yet we are all familiar with them. What myriads of Churchmen\nlive, and die, and perish under this fatal delusion! What agony of\nsurprise, what intense anguish of soul, must they feel on entering\nthe world of spirits--on discovering the deception which has been\npractised on them, and which they so fondly cherished. The Papal\nand the Tractarian priests are the most successful agents which the\ndevil employs to ruin souls. What terrible mental encounters will\ntake place between them and their deluded victims when they meet\neach other in hell--and meet they will!\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"And how much is it to be deplored that the living\nvictims of this popular delusion are so deeply intrenched in their\nsuperstitious belief, that the ordinary methods of conviction and\nrecovery cannot get at them? O these priests, who are preparing\ntheir devotees for destruction! Pray, Sir,\" turning to the Rev. Mr.\nIngleby, \"what judgment do these Tractarians entertain of the Church\nof Scotland, which made such a noble stand for the faith against the\nencroachments of the Papal power?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"O, they unchurch it.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"And, of course, they are as unceremonious in their\ntreatment of the Dissenters?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, they treat all alike, except the Papal\nChurch, and that they admit to be a true church of Jesus Christ.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"This does not surprise me. They revere and love\ntheir parentage; this is a filial virtue. For this they are to be\ncommended. But do they consign all to a state of future misery who\ndo not belong to the Episcopal Church?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Why, my dear, there is a diversity of opinion\namongst them on this question. Some will take their belief to the\nfull stretch of the tether of consistency, and, without hesitation,\ndoom all to destruction who are not within the pale of their\ncommunion. Others are a little more charitable; they admit the\nbare possibility of their salvation, by assigning them over to the\n_uncovenanted_ mercies of God.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"And pray, Sir, what do they mean by the\nuncovenanted mercies of God?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"They mean that God can save them, as he _can\nsave an infernal spirit_; but he gives them no promise of mercy on\nwhich they can place any hope of salvation.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"What opinion, Sir, do the evangelical clergy who\nhold high church principles entertain on this question?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Why, all of them would rather see the people\nwithin the pale of the church than on the outside, deeming it of the\ntwo, the safest spiritual locality; yet I never knew an evangelical\nclergyman express a doubt about the salvation of any one who\nbelieves and trusts in Jesus Christ.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Are high church principles held by any very\nconsiderable number of the evangelical clergy?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I regret to say that, in the best and the\nmost liberal, there is a strong leaning towards them; but the\nmajority, I believe, are not only their decided but their zealous\nadvocates. They know that the gospel they preach is preached with\nequal purity, and sometimes with greater power, in the pulpits\nof Dissenting churches and chapels; and hence, from motives of\npolicy, I apprehend, they endeavour to enlist the sympathies of the\nlay members of the Establishment in favour of these principles,\nto prevent the possibility of their withdrawing from it. To what\nextent they succeed in imparting their spirit of exclusiveness and\nbigoted attachment to Episcopacy, amongst the enlightened and the\npious laity, I have no means of judging; but I believe, from some\nfew indications I have seen, that in liberality of opinion, and\ngenerous expressions of Christian feeling, these lay members of\nthe Establishment are at least half a century in advance of their\nclergy. They were, a few years since, equally exclusive and bigoted,\nbut, from the concurrence of various causes, they have improved most\nrapidly in the cultivation of charity and brotherly kindness--the\nprominent graces of the Christian faith. They are acting now as\npioneers in the work of church reform, though that, I fear, is a\nforlorn hope.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"Then, Sir, we cannot calculate on any great\naccessions from the clergy of the Church of England to the cause of\nChristian union and fraternal fellowship, during the prevalence of\nthese high church principles.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"A few, who are ripening more rapidly than the\naverage of their brethren for a removal to a purer world, gladly\nhail and accelerate the progress and the triumph of fraternal\nunion of all denominations amongst the people of God; but they\nsubject themselves to much obloquy and reproach, by overstepping\nthe broad line of ecclesiastical demarcation which is drawn by\nthese high church principles, to prevent any intermixing of the\ndifferent denominations, even in ordinary social intimacy. They are\nmarked men; deemed by their brethren ecclesiastical renegades, who\nsacrifice clerical consistency to gratify their vanity.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"These high church principles, in their development\nand practical working, militate very strongly against the Church of\nEngland, and do more than any other cause to shake the confidence of\nthe laity in her Divine origin; they make her more like the gaudy,\nintolerant, and exclusive Church of Rome, than the simple, meek, and\nloving church of the New Testament. She has now officiating at her\naltars a numerous tribe of Tractarian priests, who are subdivided\ninto two orders--one prepared to fraternize with Papal priests, the\nother directly opposed to them--but both orders unite in denouncing\ntheir evangelical brethren, and with as much severity as they\ndenounce Dissenters. The various tribes of infidelity watch the\nvirulence and the progress of this internal contest with intense\ngratification, and its tendency is to increase their contempt for\nthe Bible and Christianity. We know that the church has in her\nservice a comparatively small number of clergymen who preach the\npure gospel of Jesus Christ; but, unhappily, with few exceptions,\neven these are as much opposed to Dissenters as the Tractarian\nclergy, and consequently it would be utopian to expect any rapid\nprogress in the cause of Christian unity and fraternal fellowship\nwhile these high church principles continue in the ascendant. What\nreaction may take place on the evangelical party from the tremendous\nefforts of the Tractarians to assimilate the Church of England to\nthe Church of Rome, must be left to pure conjecture, but we may hope\nthat, in process of time, they will be brought to see and to feel\nthat the more nearly they are conformed in spirit, in temper, and in\ndisposition to _the_ LORD OF ALL, the more brilliant will be their\nmoral lustre, and the more powerful their ministry.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I should like to see the dove with the olive\nbranch make its appearance, betokening the abatement of the elements\nof strife and contention; but I fear the day of its alighting on\nour altars is far distant. However, let it be our aim and our\ndaily prayer to aid the progress of Christian union and fraternal\nfellowship, and then we shall have this testimony, that we please\nGod our Saviour, and serve our generation according to his revealed\nwill.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHURCHMAN'S LAMENT.\n\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Ingleby, when opening an evening discussion on a very\nimportant question, gave it as his opinion that the judgment which\nRobert Hall formed on the present aspect of the Papal movements, is\nperfectly correct. He says--\"It is certain that the members of the\nRomish community are at this moment on the tiptoe of expectation,\nindulging the most sanguine hopes, suggested by the temper of the\ntimes, of soon recovering all that they have lost, and of seeing the\npretended rights of their church restored in their full splendour.\nIf anything can realize such an expectation, it is undoubtedly the\ntorpor and indifference of Protestants, combined with the incredible\nzeal and activity of Papists; and universal observation shows what\nthese are capable of effecting--for often they compensate the\ndisadvantages arising from paucity of number, as well as almost\nevery kind of inequality.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"If, Sir, we were merely torpid and indifferent,\nthere would be less danger to apprehend; but the fact is, the high\nchurch principles, which are now struggling amongst us for the\nascendency, are imperceptibly and very extensively reconciling the\nclergy and many of the laity to the fatal errors of the Church of\nRome. It is, I believe, the opinion of most who have paid much\nattention to the records of prophecy, that Popery, before her final\noverthrow and extinction, will revive from her long torpid state,\nwill shake herself from the dust which has been accumulating around\nher during her slumber of inaction, and come forth with new and more\nvigorous life. I fear that a large number of our Episcopal clergy\nare preparing the way, some few openly, but the greater proportion\nof them secretly and slyly, for the triumphs of the Papacy in the\nUnited Kingdom, especially amongst the Churchmen of England.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"That the Papacy does look with a longing eye on\nBritain, the emporium of wealth and of the arts and the sciences,\nand is with Jesuitical artifice concocting schemes for its recovery\nto her own dominion, is now too palpable for any one to doubt; and\nI believe, when she does come forth in some new forms of seductive\nattraction, she will gain over many to her ranks, both of the clergy\nand the laity of your church; but her efforts to beguile and subdue\nDissenters will be but the serpent biting at the file; our absolute\nand exclusive authority in support and defence of our belief is the\nBible, and our watchword is, 'To the law and to the testimony: if\nthey speak not according to this word, it is because there is no\nlight in them'\" (Isa. viii. 20).\n\n[Illustration:\n\nM. S. MORGAN.      T. BOLTON.\n\nTHE BRIDAL PARTY WELCOMED BY THE VILLAGERS.\n\nVol. ii page 456.]\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"And _our_ appeal, if we acted a consistent\npart as sound Protestants, would be to the same authority; but many\nof our clergy are not satisfied with this authority, but are for\ncalling in the fathers, and appealing to the decisions of councils,\nand listening to the vague and often contradictory testimony of\nunauthenticated tradition. They are unsettling Protestantism by the\nattempts they are making in its defence.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"A high Churchman may say, and say truly, there\nis but a step between me and Popery. And consistency has already\nforced some of them to take this step; but I apprehend that many,\nwith the Pope in their hearts, will feel more disposed to sacrifice\nconsistency on the altar of self-interest, than publicly profess\nallegiance to his authority. The entreaties and the tears of a\nloving wife, especially when she pleads under the shade of a palace,\nthe mitre gracing the brow of her frail lord, or when standing on\nthe luxuriant soil of a rich benefice, will decide many a bishop,\nand many a prebend, and many a rector, to prefer hypocrisy to\napostasy; they will content themselves by attempting to assimilate\nthe Church of England, as nearly as possible, to the corrupt\noriginal from which she withdrew at the Reformation.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But some are so thoroughly honest, that they prefer\napostasy to hypocrisy. Some, even of the evangelical clergy, are\ngone off to Rome, and many others, I fear, will follow them.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I have long apprehended and dreaded this, and\nI have made many efforts to convince my clerical brethren of the\nfatal tendency of their high church principles, but I have not been\nvery successful. No mathematical demonstration appears to me clearer\nthan this, that if the clergy will magnify the church, instead of\nmagnifying the Saviour; if they will confine salvation within the\npale of her communion, instead of proclaiming that whosoever calleth\non the name of the Lord shall be saved; if they will maintain that\nno minister of the Christian faith is a true minister of Jesus\nChrist, unless he has received episcopal ordination from a bishop in\nthe regular line of succession from the apostles, they will be led,\nin the process of the inquiry, to see the palpable inconsistency of\nhaving a secular power as the head of the church, and then there\nis no alternative but to bow down and do homage to the Pope, as\nthe spiritual head of a church founded and upheld by his spiritual\nauthority. But so strong is the attachment they cherish to their\nhigh church principles, that some say they cannot give them up, even\nthough such an issue should take place; and others are even sanguine\nin their expectations of being able to effect a junction with Rome,\nby inducing her to abandon some of her dogmas, and relax in some of\nher absolute, and what they consider unimportant regulations.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I see dark omens in the heavens. A severe testing\ntime is coming. I believe we have amongst us many noble spirits, who\nare valiant for the Protestant faith; but we have also a powerful\nand subtile enemy in the field, and, I fear, many treacherous men\nin our camp. A party of the clergy of our Protestant Church hailing\nwith delight a union with Papal Rome! How startling and humiliating!\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Many great and good laymen amongst us see the\ntendency of these high church principles, and deeply deplore it,\nyet but few of the clergy apprehend any real, or rather any very\nalarming danger. Indeed, the leading men amongst them believe that\nthese principles are the only safe barrier of defence which can be\nthrown around the Church of England, thus virtually admitting that\nshe is not established by Christ's authority, nor guarded by his\nstrong arm. I have often said to many of them, You act not only\nimpoliticly, but dangerously. You are professedly protecting your\nchurch against Dissenters, from whom you have little or nothing to\nfear; while by your manoeuvres you are moving nearer and nearer the\nRomanists, who will ultimately seduce you to their fellowship, if\nthey do not gain actual possession of your church.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, I fear that evil times are coming. Many\nof the best part of our clergy are tainted with the popular opinions\nof the worst. They do not preach like our pious forefathers, urging\nthe people to repent and believe in Christ. They magnify the Church\nof England at the perfection of ecclesiastical order and beauty,\nand direct their vituperations against their fellow-Protestants\nwho differ from them on the comparatively unimportant questions of\nEpiscopacy and Episcopal ordination. The only points of importance\non which the evangelical clergy differ from their Tractarian\nbrethren, relate to the efficacy of the sacraments.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"These high church principles have always prevailed\namongst some of our clergy; but they never gained such notoriety as\nthey have recently done. They were merely an undercurrent, but now\nthey are like the Jordan overflowing its banks. Daubeny's _Guide to\nthe Church_ made a little stir on its appearance, but it produced no\nferment in the popular mind. Mant's tracts on baptismal regeneration\nmade a more powerful impression; but it very soon subsided, and\nthings remained as they were. But the Oxford tracts have roused the\nattention of Europe. They are shrewd, subtile, elegantly written\npapers, which, by laying hold of the imagination, easily beguile\nthe heart; they are doing great execution amongst our sentimental\nhalf-Popish Churchmen, and especially amongst silly women: written\nprofessedly in defence of the Church of England, yet, as I once\nheard a Catholic priest[24] say, nothing that ever issued from the\npress has done so much to aid the triumphs of Popery.\"\n\n  [24] Rev. Mr. Logan, a priest at Oscott College, near Birmingham.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have read most of these tracts, and I am fully\nconvinced, by the arguments and reasonings of the writers, that the\nhigh church principles, which are becoming so popular amongst our\nclergy and some of the laity, cannot be deduced from the Bible,\nwhich contains the religion of Protestants.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"From the Bible, Sir! no; they emanate from the\nPrayer-book, that keepsake which Rome gave to Protestantism at\nthe time of the Reformation, with this inscription written in\nhieroglyphics:--'Occupy till I come.' That book, Sir, is the\ncause of all the Popery with which our church abounds. It is the\ndestroying angel of a pure Protestant faith.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"Ay, I have often told you that you were too\nmuch attached to your Prayer-book. It is to many Churchmen not\nonly a domestic idol, but the idol of their temple: and now you\nare suffering for your idolatrous attachment to a book which the\nJesuitical spirit of Rome induced your Reformers to take into\ntheir worship, and indorse it as the guide of the faithful in all\nfuture ages. To that book, which you admit to be an authority, the\nPuseyites now appeal in support and defence of their Papal opinions\nand customs, preferring its authority to the authority of the\nWord of the Lord. They tell you, as the Papal priests tell their\ndevotees, that the Bible is an ambiguous book; that it ought not\nto be put into circulation, except with notes and comments written\nby some of their own order; that prophets, and apostles, and Jesus\nChrist himself ought not to be trusted amongst the people, unless\nsome Tractarian professor or priest go with them to give the proper\ninterpretation to their equivocal teachings; but the PRAYER-BOOK,\nin their estimation, is the living oracle, the Urim and Thummim\nof a new theocracy, which utters the truth of inspiration in\nunmistakeable language.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I went and heard the Rev. Mr. Farish, who left\nhis curacy a few months ago, preach his farewell sermon. He knew\nthat the clergyman who was appointed to succeed him, was one of the\nmost rabid Puseyites that Oxford ever sent forth. At the conclusion\nof his discourse he said, as nearly as I can recollect, 'I have\npreached to you Christ and him crucified; and I have told you again\nand again that there is none other name under heaven given amongst\nmen whereby we must be saved. I have proved from Holy Writ that\nsalvation is of grace--free unmerited grace through faith--and that\nnot of yourselves, it is the gift of God: \"not of works, lest any\nman should boast\" (Eph. ii. 9). My successor is a clergyman of a\ndifferent school, and he will, I fear, dwell more on the ceremonies\nof our faith than on its doctrines, and most likely he will give to\nthe sacraments a prominency to which you have not been accustomed.\nBut if the gospel should be excluded from the pulpit, as I fear it\nwill be, sorrow not, even as others who have no hope; you will hear\nit from the desk. The great truths of the Bible may be perverted\nand suppressed, but no sacrilegious hand will dare to mutilate or\nwithhold our Prayer-book. This ever liveth, and is unchangeable\namidst all the mutations of a mysterious Providence. You then,\nbrethren, will not forget that you are Churchmen, and you will still\ncleave to the altar and the walls of your church; and wait till the\nvision returns, which for a season is about to vanish away.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I have always protested against advising\npeople to attend their church when the gospel is banished from the\npulpit, and for this reason: it is the gospel of Christ which is the\npower of God unto salvation, and not the Prayer-book. And experience\nproves, that if there be no more gospel in a church than what the\nPrayer-book announces, the people show no signs of spiritual life.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This is diverting the attention of the people from\nthe Word of God, to the compositions of man--a most dangerous\nexperiment, fraught with great evil.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I think so. When we go to the Bible, and take\nits lessons, believing what it teaches us, we are safe; but if we\nadmit any other book to become our authoritative teacher, then we\nare in great danger. In that case we follow a fallible instead of an\ninfallible guide. Hence originate the discordant opinions which are\nnow disturbing the peace of our church.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Sir, this is the root of the evil that exists\nand is spreading amongst us. I certainly admire much of our Liturgy,\nand think that the men who drew up some of the prayers, though\nnot inspired, in the sense in which apostles and prophets were\ninspired, yet they must have been greatly assisted by the Spirit of\nthe Lord when composing them. But many parts of the Prayer-book are\nvery exceptionable, of which I was not conscious till lately. The\nfantastical exhibition of the white-robed priest in the pulpit, and\nwax candles burning on the altar at mid-day, or in readiness to be\nlighted, have led me to examine the Prayer-book more attentively and\nminutely, and I must confess that the closer I study it, the lower\nit sinks in my esteem and confidence.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I have been attached to the church from\nmy youth, and I am still attached to it. But my attachment is\nto its excellencies, not to its defects. I prefer Episcopacy\nto Presbyterianism, or Independency; but the exterior form of\ngovernment is a matter of little moment, when compared with the\nessential principles of the Christian faith. Forms may change,\nas they have changed before, but Christianity itself undergoes\nno change; the new and living way of access to a reconciled God\nand Father in Christ Jesus, is the same yesterday, to-day, and\nfor ever--one Lord, one faith, one baptism, for all ages and all\ncountries.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"If we could have Episcopacy thoroughly relieved from\nthe excrescences which disfigure and defile it, and our Prayer-book\nthoroughly purged from all its Papal sacraments and ceremonies, we\nthen should have, in my opinion, the faith embodied in an external\nform of government and ritual, as near the perfection of the New\nTestament as human wisdom could make it. I then should look on the\nChurch of England as one of the purest churches of the Reformation:\nit then would be the temple of peace and order.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, Sir, I should like to see this done; but\nalas! it is what, I fear, the present temper of the times would not\ntolerate--something to be desired, rather than expected--a utopian\ncalculation--the forlorn hope of ecclesiastical reformation.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"Reform the Prayer-book! Why, Sir, to touch\nthat antique book, grown gray in the service of the temple, and\naround which there is such a clustering of tender and imaginative\nassociations--to obliterate a single sentence, or change a single\ncustom, or new-shape a single ceremony--would be, in the estimation\nof the great majority of Churchmen, a crime as heinous as that of\nUzzah, who laid hold of the ark of God with unclean hands; and would\nmerit a similar doom. The proposal to do such a foul deed would\ndisturb the peace of every parish within the domain of Episcopacy;\nwould raise such lamentations as have never yet been heard by the\near of living humanity; and compel many a grave old man, and many\na still graver old matron, to go and mourn apart from the general\ncommunity of grief. Reform the Prayer-book! that pure relic of\nantiquity! What wild project next? If you take my Bible, O, spare me\nmy Prayer-book! would be the exclamation of many of the church-going\npeople of England.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I think, with you, Sir, that the current of\nnational prejudice in favour of the integrity of the Prayer-book is\nat present too strong to be resisted; and all attempts to effect any\nessential change in it will end in failure.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It must be revised and reformed if we are to retain\nour Protestantism.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"As Protestantism and the Prayer-book have lived\ntogether in love for so many centuries, why not permit them to\nlive on to the end? especially as this close alliance has had both\nthe sanction and the support of the most distinguished of the\nevangelical clergy.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Because the Prayer-book is now putting forth that\ninherent Papal power which long lay dormant and unsuspected; and is\ndoing this, not to aid the spiritual triumphs of the glorious gospel\nof Christ, but to sap the foundation of our Protestant faith; and\nthus prepare the people to hail the return of the Papacy amongst\nus. It is, if I may be allowed the use of such a figure, the decoy\nduck of Popery, which we have been carefully preserving in the ark\nof our faith, mistaking it for the gentle dove. Dr. Pusey, in his\nletter to the Bishop of London, says: 'It is more than idle to talk,\nas some have done, of putting down Tractarianism in order to check\nsecession to Rome. Such might drive hundreds from the church for\ntens; but while that precious jewel, the Prayer-book, remains, they\ncannot destroy or weaken Tractarianism. Tractarianism was entirely\nthe birth of the English Church. Its life must be consistent with\nthe formularies with which it is embodied.'\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"But there is certainly a change coming over the\npublic mind respecting the Prayer-book. Some very stanch Churchmen\nare for driving it out of our church, as the buyers and sellers were\ndriven out of the temple; but most are for purging it from its Papal\ndefilements and sacraments.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"I am aware that there is a slight movement amongst\na certain order of Churchmen in favour of a revision of your\nPrayer-book, that it may be brought into a more perfect agreement\nwith the purity of the Christian faith; but how is it that so few of\nthe evangelical clergy take part in the present struggle? They seem,\nso I judge from their inaction, as willing to let this stronghold of\nPopery remain unscaled, as their Tractarian opponents.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Two reasons, I think, may be assigned for\ntheir inaction, though, in my opinion, they are not very logical\nor powerful. They love peace and quietness, and this restrains\nthem from taking any active part in the contest; and, in addition\nto this, they are somewhat apprehensive that if the secular powers\ninterfere, they may decree a rejection of the old Prayer-book, and\nthe construction of a new one.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I would not give my sanction to such a decree.\nNo, Sir, we will retain our Prayer-book, but have it submitted\nto a very severe purifying process. There must not be, as at the\nReformation, an attempt made to please both Papists and Protestants;\nit must be made thoroughly Protestant, as it is designed for us;\nand hence there must be a thorough purging out of the old leaven\nof Popery, and nothing retained but what is in exact harmony with\nthe New Testament records. No rite, no ceremony, no institution, no\necclesiastical law or regulation which does not originate in Divine\nappointment.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"If this could be accomplished, and we\ncould have a Prayer-book whose articles and ceremonial rites and\ninstitutes would exactly harmonize, as they ought to do, with the\nintegrity and the purity of the New Testament, then the Church of\nEngland would become a great moral and spiritual power amongst us,\njustly entitled to the admiration and the homage of the British\npeople, whose sympathies and affections would rally so closely\naround her, that she need not stand in awe of the aristocracy of\nPopery, nor be jealous of the democracy of Dissent, nor cherish the\nslightest misgivings, when assailed by any class of infidels.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"I should very much like to see such a prayer-book\nsubstituted for the half-Papal and half-Protestant one which you now\nhave; and if, Sir,\" addressing Mr. Roscoe, \"you were nominated on a\ncommission appointed to revise it, what suppressions and alterations\nwould you propose?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I would begin with the Catechism.\"\n\n\nTHE CATECHISM.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"A catechism should be a digest of the entire\ntheory of Divine truth, arranged in logical and systematic order,\nevery part should be stated in such definite and plain terms as to\nbe easily understood, especially by the young.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But our Catechism does not answer this description.\nIt contains no correct digest of biblical truth, nor is there\nany order; it is defective on some points, and on others it is\nerroneous--more in harmony with Papal than with Protestant belief.\nIt begins by advancing, in a categorical form, a delusive and a most\nfatal error, which, as a necessary sequence, is made to run through\nall the prominent ceremonies of our church, placing the Tractarians\non the vantage ground, who claim the honour of being more faithful\nexpositors of our national creed than their evangelical opponents.\nIn reply to the question about who gave the catechumen his name,\nhe is taught to say, 'My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism,\nwherein I was made a member of Christ, the child of God, and an\ninheritor of the kingdom of heaven.'\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"These ecclesiastical officials can put in no claim\nto a Divine origin or sanction; there is no allusion to godfathers\nor godmothers in the Bible; they are an importation from Rome; and I\nthink it will be more to your honour to send them back, than retain\nthem in your service.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"What follows is equally, if not more\nobjectionable:--'_Question._--What did your godfathers and\ngodmothers then for you? _Answer._--They did promise and vow three\nthings in my name. First, that I should renounce the devil and all\nhis works, the pomp and vanity of this wicked world, and all the\nsinful lusts of the flesh. Secondly, that I should believe all the\narticles of the Christian faith. And thirdly, that I should keep\nGod's holy will and commandments, and walk in the same all the\ndays of my life.' Thus the Church of England initiates the rising\ngeneration into the belief of positive and dangerous error;[25]\nsubstitutes absolute falsehood for Scripture truth, as no such moral\nwonders[26] are performed when the rite of baptism is administered.\"\n\n  [25] See page 320.\n\n  [26] The writer of this article, in the year 1843, met a physician\n  in Bath, and in the same year he met a solicitor in Banbury, who\n  for many years ranked as members of the Church of England; but on\n  examining the baptismal service in conjunction with this part of the\n  Catechism, they felt such a strong repugnance against having their\n  children baptized according to the prescribed formula, that they\n  both preferred becoming Dissenters, rather than give their sanction\n  to what they conscientiously believed to be a sinful, because\n  antiscriptural ceremony, more fit for a Papal than a Protestant\n  church.\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"How any intelligent Protestant, with the fear of\nGod before his eyes, can conscientiously take upon himself such\na vow, that a child, who is born in sin and shapen in iniquity,\nshall renounce all the sinful lusts of the flesh, and walk in God's\ncommandments all the days of his life, is to me inexplicable, unless\nhe looks upon the ceremony of baptism as a mere farce, and his vow\nan idle, unmeaning utterance. However, one thing is certain; they\nfind it more easy to make the vow than to keep it; as the children\nof the church turn out as gay, and dissipated, and sceptical, as\nthose who never had such a vow made in their behalf.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I can offer no arguments in defence of the\nappointment of godfathers and godmothers; they certainly have no New\nTestament origin or sanction. And if I were left to my own choice,\nI would rather forego administering the rite of baptism to infants,\nthan I would tolerate such vows, when those who make them, and\nthose who hear them made, very well know that they have no power to\nredeem them.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"As no human being can persuade or coerce another to\ndo these deeds of renunciation and submission, we must look upon the\nwhole ceremony as a purely Papal invention, admitted most censurably\nwithin the pale of our church, and incorporated with her system of\nceremonial discipline and order. Hence I presume, Sir, you would\nvery willingly have these parts of our Catechism expunged?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Indeed, Sir, I should, and so would my\nevangelical brethren. It is a sad evil which we groan under.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"The Tractarian clergy, in common with the\nPapal priests, are resolute in their adherence to this baptismal\nceremony and its catechetical adjuncts; and they denounce their\nevangelical opponents as unfit to officiate in the church, because\nthey impeach her authority to originate ecclesiastical ceremonies\nwhich have no sanction from the New Testament. From these data I\ndraw the following conclusion:--the evangelical clergy are the\nmost consistent scripturalists, but the Tractarian are the most\nconsistent Churchmen; and while the former do homage to Divine\nauthority, the latter prefer rendering allegiance to human.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Your conclusion, Sir, is just; but it is a most\nmortifying one, and I think we should do all in our power to get a\nCatechism more in harmony with the New Testament and the Protestant\nfaith.\"\n\n\nTHE CONFIRMATION SERVICE.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"It is maintained by many, that the rite of\nconfirmation which is administered by our bishops is a continuation\nof apostolic practice, recorded in the Acts; but I prefer the\njudgment which our own distinguished commentator, the Rev. T.\nScott, has given on this subject:--'The rite of confirmation, as\npractised by many Christian churches, has often been, and still\nis, spoken of as a continuation of the apostolical imposition of\nhands for the confirmation of new converts, by the Holy Spirit\nthus given to them. But it is far from evident that this was done\nuniversally by the apostles, or by those who immediately succeeded\nthem. As, however, _miraculous powers_, rather than _sanctifying\ngrace_, were thus conferred, unless miraculous powers were _now_\nconnected with that rite, the parallel must wholly fail.[27] How far\nsomething of this kind, properly regulated and conducted, may be\nrendered subservient to the edification of young persons descended\nfrom pious parents, and baptized when infants, is another question;\nbut to advance this observance into a _sacrament_, and even above\na sacrament (as it certainly is advanced when the _Holy Spirit is\nsupposed to be conferred by imposition of hands_, and by using words\nin prayer like those of Peter and of John), puts the subject in a\nvery different light. Doubtless it was at first thus magnified in\norder to _exalt the Episcopal order_, to whom the administration of\nit was confined, as if they were intrusted with apostolic authority;\nbut as miracles are out of the question, so to follow the apostles\nin faith, humility, diligence in preaching in season and out of\nseason, in piety, and self-denial, is the only scriptural mode of\nmagnifying either the Episcopal or the clerical office. Assuredly\nas this matter (namely, the confirmation service) is very often\nconducted, it must be allowed to be _an evil; and it ought either\nto be attended to in another manner, or not at all_.' Change it, or\nabolish it.\"\n\n  [27] \"After the intelligent reader has carefully examined the\n  following references--Acts viii. 5-15; xix. 1-6--then let him look\n  at a Puseyite confirmation, and I think the contrast cannot fail to\n  strike his attention.\n\n  \"We have seen what took place in the days of the apostles, let\n  us next see what takes place at a Puseyite confirmation. The\n  unconscious infants of a nation are baptized; by such baptism they\n  are professedly regenerated; they are made children of God, heirs of\n  the kingdom of heaven. At this ordinance there are godfathers and\n  godmothers undertaking solemn responsibilities; these parties are\n  required to be present to witness the confirmation, and are taught\n  to regard it as a loosening of them from their sacred bonds.\n\n  \"Now, we ask the Episcopal expositors to tell us where we are\n  to look for godfathers or godmothers at the baptisms mentioned\n  in the Acts? Where is the doctrine of the _regeneration_ of\n  baptized infants in the Acts? Where is the doctrine of a Divine\n  life begun in baptism and perfected in confirmation? What are the\n  proofs of such regeneration as a qualification for confirmation?\n  The only qualification prescribed by the Book of Common Prayer\n  for confirmation by the bishop, is ability to repeat the Creed,\n  the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments, and the Catechism. Of\n  repentance towards God and faith towards the Lord Jesus Christ there\n  is not a word. Here, then, we have a generation of young persons\n  on whom Episcopal hands are laid, and who are taught to believe\n  that, in consequence of this act, they have received an influx of\n  spiritual grace, implanting new, and invigorating old spiritual\n  principles, and raising them at once to the stature of Christian\n  manhood. Was there ever such delusion! How long will men of sense in\n  the Established Church endure it!\"--_Dr. Campbell._\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I met the other day, in my casual reading, with\nan honest confession from a leading Tractarian: 'It is true, the\nactual word confirmation does not occur in the Bible _in that sense\nin which we are now using it_,' which is a plain admission that\nthe rite, as administered by our bishops, differs from that act of\nconfirmation which the apostles performed. They confirmed believers\nwho were members of the church; that is, strengthened their faith,\nby renewed evidences of its Divine origin, urging them at the same\ntime to continue in it, notwithstanding the persecutions they might\nbe exposed to, and on some occasions they conferred the miraculous\ngifts of the Holy Ghost; but our modern bishops administer the\nceremony to young people who make no decided profession of personal\npiety, and the observance of this ceremony, and not their piety, is\nthe ecclesiastical qualification for membership with the church over\nwhich their jurisdiction extends.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It appears to me, after a close investigation of\nthe subject, that confirmation, as administered by our bishops,\nis based on the fatal error of baptismal regeneration, and is a\nnecessary sequence to it. Two objects are accomplished by it. In\nthe first place, it is a release to godfathers and godmothers from\nthe heavy responsibilities they took upon themselves, when they\ngave the vow at the baptismal font that their godchild should\nrenounce all the sinful lusts of the flesh, &c.; and, in the second\nplace, the confirmed person becomes legally entitled to all the\nprivileges and immunities which the Church of England guarantees\nto her members; and, at the same time, 'confirms and perfects,' as\nDr. Hook says, 'that which the grace of God's most Holy Spirit has\nalready begun in baptism.' Hence the prayer which the bishop offers\nup before he administers the rite, is in exact agreement with this\nstatement:--'Almighty and everlasting God, who hast vouchsafed to\nregenerate these thy servants by water and the Holy Ghost, and\nhast given unto them the forgiveness of all their sins, strengthen\nthem, we beseech thee, O Lord, with the Holy Ghost the Comforter,\nand daily increase in them thy manifold gifts of grace; the spirit\nof wisdom and understanding; the spirit of counsel and ghostly\nstrength; the spirit of knowledge and true godliness; and fill them,\nO Lord, with the spirit of thy holy fear, now and for ever. Amen.'\nAfter this prayer, then, follows the effective act of confirmation;\nthe bishop lays his hand on the head of every one kneeling before\nhim, repeating a short prayer; and it is by this imposition of\nhands and prayer that the grace is conveyed which nourishes and\nstrengthens the inner spiritual life, which was infused at the\nbaptismal font; or, to quote what Dr. Hook says, 'it is to perfect\nthat which the grace of God's most Holy Spirit has already begun in\nbaptism.'\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"This certainly is a very ingenious arrangement,\nto show out to public notice the importance of a duly authorized\npriesthood, on whose official actions the spiritual life and safety\nof Churchmen and their children are made to depend; but it is\ningenuity at the expense of truth and common sense. In the prayer\nwhich precedes the ceremony of confirmation, the bishop asserts what\nis not true--children are not regenerated at the font of baptism;\nand yet it is asserted that they are. He does not pray that God\nwould be pleased to forgive them their sins; he merely tells God\nthat he has done it; and thus they are confirmed in the belief of a\nmost fatal delusion--a positive falsehood.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._-\"Unquestionably; every person who is confirmed, if\nhe have any faith in the integrity of the bishop, when engaged in\nthis act of public devotion, must believe two things; indeed, he\nis compelled to believe them, unless he impeaches the piety of the\nbishop; he must believe that he is regenerated, and consequently\nneeds no spiritual change of heart and mind; and he must believe\nthat all his past sins are forgiven, which renders it unnecessary\nfor him to pray for mercy on account of any bygone acts of\ndelinquency or--impiety. What a delusion!--a fatal delusion!\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"That no such moral effects result from this act of\nconfirmation, is very painfully demonstrated by the scenes which\noften follow its performance. I went some time since, at the request\nof a friend who, like myself, still cleaves to the church, while he\nloathes many of her Papal ceremonies, to witness a confirmation,\nand what immediately followed. Some on leaving the church appeared\nto be seriously impressed; but the majority were as mirthful as if\nreturning from a fair; many resorted to the public-houses, and in\nthe evening they were seen reeling home in a state of intoxication;\nand I afterwards heard of some who fell into grosser crimes.\"[28]\n\n  [28] The writer of this paper once heard a young man say, when\n  reeling out of a public-house, \"Well, as I have the old score wiped\n  away to-day by the bishop himself, I can afford to run up another\n  short one.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"There is no denying the fact, that what often\nfollows a confirmation service is most revolting to Christian\nfeeling; tending to bring its administration into popular disrepute.\nHence, I can subscribe to the truth of a statement, and an\naccompanying opinion, given by a clergyman of high distinction, in\nhis reply to some official interrogations. 'I do not pretend to\nknow,' he says, 'what may have been the effect of confirmation in\nformer times, but I have witnessed enough in our day to make me wish\nto see it abolished. In some persons it creates a superstitious\ntrust in the efficacy of the mere ceremony; to others it is a grand\nfestival, a time to see and be seen; and too frequently ending in\nfolly, drunkenness, and every kind of vice. I have heard more than\none reclaimed drunkard, in giving an account of himself, date his\nfirst act of intemperance, or first intoxication, to the day of his\nconfirmation; and on these accounts it is, to many, a subject of\nridicule and contempt, bringing discredit upon our holy religion....\nFor more than ten years my own desire has been, that in any measure\nof church reform that may be adopted, the _ceremony_ of confirmation\nmay be entirely left out.'\"\n\n\nTHE ORDINATION SERVICE.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I was not aware, till very recently, that the\nordination service is so very objectionable in many of its parts,\nespecially to any one who is jealous of the Divine honour. When a\nperson presents himself to be admitted to the order of priesthood in\nour church (and it matters not whether he be a gay man of fashion\nor a devout servant of God), after replying to certain questions\nproposed to him, and giving certain assurances, he is then required\nto kneel in the presence of the bishop, who thus speaks in a\ntone of authority, as though he had all power in heaven and on\nearth:--'Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a priest\nin the church of God, now committed unto thee by the imposition\nof our hands; whose sins thou dost forgive, they are forgiven,\nand whose sins thou dost retain, they are retained. And be thou\na faithful dispenser of the Word of God and his holy sacraments,\nin the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\nAmen.' Does it not savour of blasphemy to concede to any man an\nauthority to forgive sins?\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"I think it does, Sir, and very strongly. And are\nyou aware that the priests of the Church of England are invested\nwith a much higher degree of authority in this matter than any of\nthe priesthood of the Papal Church of Rome?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Not with a higher degree of authority! That I think\nis impossible.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"Indeed, Sir, they are. Their delegated power is\nmade absolute, and it is unlimited; but the power of the Papal\npriesthood is placed under very stringent restrictions. Thus, when\nthe Papal priest puts into requisition the exercise of his ghostly\npower, in the remission of the sins of the dying Catholic, the\nbye-laws of his church make a distinction, _and for very lucrative\nreasons_, between venial and mortal sins; he is authorized to remit\nvenial sins, but he is powerless to remit mortal sin; and hence his\nform of absolution runs as follows: '_And by virtue of authority\ncommitted unto me, I absolve thee from thy sins, in the name of\nthe Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost_.' The Episcopal\nProtestants' form of absolution runs thus: '_And by His authority,\ncommitted unto me, I absolve thee from all thy sins, in the name\nof the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost_.' The Papal\npriest remits _some sins_; the Protestant priest absolves from\n_all sins_; the Roman Catholic, after his priest has absolved him,\nhas to go and live for a season amidst purgatorial fires; but\nas Protestantism has no purgatory, her devotee passes at once,\naccording to this Episcopal legend, into the kingdom of heaven,\nafter her priest has exercised his absolving power. The priest,\nthen, according to this absolution ceremony, saves from hell, and\ngives a passport to heaven, by virtue of the delegated authority he\nreceived from the bishop who ordained him.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"This, certainly, is a too glaring usurpation of\nthe Divine prerogative of mercy on the part of the priesthood, to\nbe tolerated, especially by us Protestants. Away with it from our\nPrayer-book, and send it back to Papal Rome, from whence it came. It\nis both a sin and a disgrace to a Protestant community to tolerate\namongst them such a close conformity to the blasphemous usurpations\nof the Papal Church.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I thought but little about it when I was\nordained, but I have thought much since, and I must admit that it is\nmost objectionable, so much so that I have made up my mind never to\nattend another ordination service. The bishop assumes and professes\nto convey a power which does not belong to man, and with which man\nought never to be intrusted.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"To invest a man with such power has a most dangerous\nand servile tendency. If a priest really believes, as many of them\ndo, both Papal and Protestant, that he is actually endowed with\nthe authority which the bishop professes to delegate to him at his\nordination, must he not look upon himself as a great being, entitled\nto great homage, having a disposing power over the final destiny of\nthe human spirit? will he not move about amongst his parishioners as\na demi-god in the human form?--whom he wills, he pardons and saves,\nand whom he wills, he allows to perish. And if he makes the people\nbelieve this, as the clergy are now attempting to do, will they not\nstand more in awe of him, whom they see and hear, than they do of\nGod, who is invisible?\"\n\n\nTHE BURIAL SERVICE.\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I think some parts of this service require\nrevision, though, as a whole, I rather like it.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"As a service to be read at the interment of a devout\nman, a believer in Jesus Christ, it is very appropriate; but it must\nbe a very painful infliction on a truly pious and conscientious\nclergyman, to read the service at the interment of a very wicked\nperson.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Yes, Sir, it is indeed; and I make it a rule\nto vary the forms of expression when I have such an office to\nperform on such an occasion.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Sir, I am aware you do; and though it is, I\nbelieve, a trespass on the sanctity of canon law, yet I think no\nconscientious person will blame you.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"On one occasion, some years since, when I made\nthis variation, a complaint was lodged against me by the relatives\nof the deceased for so doing. The bishop sent for me; and when I\ntold him that the deceased was a very impure man, an avowed sceptic,\nand one who died in the act of sinning against God, his lordship\nsaid, 'I do not wonder at your scruples. I cannot blame you.' The\nservice is often most painfully trying to a conscientious clergyman,\nnot only on his own account, but on account of the wrong impressions\nit often makes on those who attend at the funeral. We know that\n_last_ impressions, like first impressions, are often very powerful;\nthey linger long on the heart and on the imagination; and hence,\nwhen the survivors of a wicked man hear a clergyman thanking God for\ntaking the soul of the departed one to himself, they very naturally\nwithdraw from the scene of death, under a firm belief that, however\nprofligate he may have been in his life, and however agonizing his\ndying mental pangs, he is just as well off in the eternal world as\nhe would be if he had lived a religious or virtuous life.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"It appears, from the tone and style of your\nPrayer-book, that the persons, when receiving the mysterious\nefficacy of your sacraments, are just as passive, in one sense, as\na piece of marble is under the chisel of the sculptor. They stand\nstill, as the block of marble stands still, doing nothing; they\nmay be dozing. The clergy, like the sculptor, do all that is to be\ndone, and the sacraments they administer are to take effect on these\npassive beings by virtue of their inherent power, when properly\nadministered by a bishop, or a priest who has received Episcopal\nordination from a bishop, who is in the regular line of succession\nfrom the apostles. Now this Tractarian theory is in direct\ncontradiction to the Word of God, which makes it obligatory on every\nsinner to work out his own salvation with fear and trembling; to\nbelieve and to trust in Christ that he may be saved; to receive\nthe truth in the love of it, which is to effect his spiritual\nfreedom; to yield himself to God as made alive from the dead;\nto purify himself, and to walk in newness of life; and even the\nfirst great action of Divine grace, in his renewal and renovation,\nis _making him willing to do_ what is essential for his present\nhappiness and safety, and his final salvation. Thus, according to\nthe Scripture theory, the sacraments have no self-acting power, nor\nhave the agents who administer them any self-sufficient power; the\nregenerating and sanctifying power is in the Lord alone, and to him,\nand him alone, is a sinner indebted for his salvation, which is an\nact of sovereign and unmerited grace.\" See Ephes. ii. 8, 9, 10.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I deeply regret that we have in our\nPrayer-book so many objectionable services and ceremonies, and\nmore especially as they bring us into so close a conformity with\nthe Papal Church of Rome. Any impartial person, who looks at the\ntwo churches through the medium of these prominent services and\nceremonies, would pronounce us twin sisters, or ours a daughter\nbearing a very strong resemblance to her mother; and it is only\nby turning to our articles that we can point out any essential\ndifference between them. Our articles are Protestant and scriptural;\nour ceremonies are derived from the Papacy, and are antiscriptural.\nHence we account for the existence of the two orders of clergy who\nofficiate at our altars--the evangelical and the Tractarian. We are\na kingdom divided against itself, and what the final issue of the\ncontest will be no human foresight can decide. You are for reforming\nthe Prayer-book by expunging that which savours so strongly of\nthe Papacy; and if this could be done, then Tractarianism would\ndisappear from amongst us, and we should hold the unity of the\nfaith in the bonds of peace. But who will undertake this herculean\nlabour? Will our clergy? They have no power, even if they had an\ninclination. Will our bishops? No. They have gained the prize,\nand are contented; they live in affluence and in ease, and care\nbut little about the strife and contentions which prevail amongst\ntheir subordinates, with whom they hold but a very formal and\ndistant intercourse. The laity, at least the more enlightened, and\nthe pious, I know, are restless for a change; but I see not how\nany change can be effected unless there be a breaking up of the\nEstablishment, for it to undergo a remodelling; and if such a great\ncrisis as this should come, there is no conjecturing, from the\npresent aspect of the times, whether the Prayer-book would receive a\nmore scriptural or a more Papal cast and complexion. We ought not to\nforget that it is the civil power which appoints our bishops, sits\nin judgment on the conflicting opinions which divide the clergy,\nand rules the destiny of our church; and we know, from very painful\nexperience, that the civil power, whether embodied in a Whig or a\nTory administration, has uniformly evinced a stronger liking for\nceremonial pomp and display, than for the beautiful simplicity of\nthe church of the New Testament. Hence, I believe that reformation\nis hopeless, as C\u00e6sar disdains to admit the supremacy of Jesus of\nNazareth.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"That, Sir, is my decided opinion.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I am not sanguine in my hopes. The buyers and\nsellers are again in the temple, but the Son of God is not now in\nthe form of the Son of man, or they would soon be driven out.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Then, Sir, Tractarianism will spread more widely\nand rapidly amongst us, and if an open and a positive junction be\nnot formed between the Church of England and the Church of Rome,\nthere will be a tacit one; and the reign of ecclesiastical delusion\nand despotism will be established in Britain; and the English, like\nthe Irish and the Italians, will be, at least to a certain extent, a\npriest-ridden people.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"You should all do as I have done, and then you may\nbreathe freely and without fear, and laugh to scorn all attempts,\nopen or insidious, to beguile you to Rome. Our principles render us\ninvulnerable; yours, constitute your danger.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"Mr. Lewellin means we should all turn Dissenters,\nand acknowledge no legislative dictation or authority in matters of\nreligion but that of the New Testament.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"You have often rallied me on my Dissenting\nprinciples, but the time is fast coming when the problem will\nbe solved, that dissent from human authority in matters of the\nChristian faith is the only invincible barrier against the\nencroachments of the Papal power.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I have no desire to forsake the church of my\nfathers--the church of my early and long-cherished veneration and\nattachment--but I will not remain in her communion if she form\nan alliance with Papal Rome, or become semi-Papal herself. No!\nI am a Protestant Christian, which is another designation for a\nBible Christian; the Bible is my infallible rule, which forbids\nabsolute yielding and subserviency to any human authority; and\nif Protestantism be driven from the Church of England, or if she\ngives that submission to priestly dictation which should be given\nexclusively to the Word of the Lord, I will immediately leave her,\nas I would leave my own mansion if I felt its foundation giving way,\npreferring the woodside cottage as more safe, though less elegant\nand imposing.\"\n\n\n\n\nRIGHT AT LAST.\n\n\n\"I hope, Sir,\" said the venerable Mr. Ingleby to Mr. Roscoe, \"you\nwere gratified by your late visit to your brother, now, I trust,\nyour son in the faith?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I was more than gratified; I was both astonished\nand delighted. There is a marvellous change in him, in his spirit\nand habits, as well as in his theological opinions and style of\npreaching. He stands in the centre of a large circle of his clerical\nbrethren, a living monument to the honour of the enlightening and\nrenewing grace of God.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"All such changes are both marvellous and\nnatural. The unrenewed part of the community, both the clergy and\nthe laity, look at them with some degree of amazement, regarding\nthem as strange and mystical phenomena; but we know that they\nare the moral workmanship of the Spirit of God. They are also\nliving evidences of the Divine origin of Christianity, bearing the\nsame relation to it now, as the miracles of healing did on its\nfirst promulgation. Their production requires a power which is\nextra-human; but, notwithstanding this self-evident fact, different\npersons will attribute them to very different causes, as they\ndid the undisputed miracles wrought by Jesus Christ. Some of the\nPharisees asserted that he performed them by a power derived from\nthe devil; others said, can a devil open the eyes of the blind? thus\nimplying the absolute impossibility of his doing such a benevolent\naction. The same difference of opinion prevails amongst men, when\nthey try to account for these moral miracles. Some refer them to an\nundefined fanaticism, or to a love of singularity, or to the power\nof persuasion, or to the imbecility or partial derangement of the\nintellectual faculty; and others ascribe them to the direct agency\nof the Spirit of God, which, certainly, is assigning an adequate\ncause, and the ONLY _adequate cause_ for their existence.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Surely no one who knew my brother before his\nconversion, will accuse him of fanaticism, for a more doggedly stern\nadvocate in behalf of Tractarianism never undertook its defence and\nsupport; and no one, I think, will venture to say that his intellect\nhas passed under an eclipse since his conversion. No, Sir; such\nreferences would entail discredit on any one who would make them.\nAll must admit that he himself is competent to give evidence on the\nfact and the cause of it; and he uniformly says, By the _grace of\nGod I am what I am_.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"As you refer to his style of preaching, I\npresume he has resumed his pulpit labours?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Sir, he has; and if my eyes had been closed,\nand I had not known that he was in the pulpit, I should have thought\nthat I was listening to a preacher I had never heard before.\nFormerly he was rather heavy, and there was a harsh monotonous tone\nin his delivery--but now he speaks with great ease and fluency, and\nwith a pathetic earnestness which at times is thrilling. I have seen\nsome of his hearers affected to tears, who used to sit as unmoved\nas stones. I was present when he delivered his first sermon, after\nseveral months' absence from the pulpit; and as he had given notice\nthat he should assign the reasons which induced him to renounce\nthe Tractarian heresy and adopt the Evangelical faith, there was\nan overflowing congregation. His text was a very appropriate one;\nit was taken from 2 Tim. iii. 5: '_Having a form of godliness, but\ndenying the power thereof; from such turn away_.' From these words\nof Paul he raised the following proposition, which he argued with\ngreat accuracy and telling force:--'We should hold no Christian\nfellowship with any order of ministers who unduly magnify the\nform and ceremonies of Christianity, and who, either actually or\nvirtually, depreciate its doctrines and its precepts.'\n\n\"He concluded his discourse as follows:--'My dearly beloved\nbrethren, I have been labouring amongst you many years, but I\nnow publicly confess, with shame and confusion of face, that I\nhave been misleading you on the great question of your personal\nsalvation, simply because I have been living under the power of\nself-delusion--advocating the form of godliness, while denying its\npower. Like the priests of Rome, and like too many, alas! of our\nown church, I have been teaching you to look for peace of mind\nand for the hope of salvation to the efficacy of your baptism,\nto the eucharist, and to priestly absolution; but, thanks to the\nDivine Spirit, I now perceive that these are refuges of lies--the\ninventions of a crafty and self-deluded priesthood--the fatal\nquicksand of superstition, on which the people are perishing\nin their sins, and are lost for ever. I now renounce these\nChrist-dishonouring heresies, as opposed to the spirit and the\nletter of the Bible, and embrace the truth which is embodied in the\nsimple and concise reply which the apostle Peter made to the members\nof the Jewish council: \"Neither is there salvation in any other:\nfor there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby\nwe must be saved\" (Acts iv. 12). In future, both by myself and my\nexcellent curate, the regenerating power of the Spirit of God will\nbe substituted for the regenerating power of water-baptism, and your\nfaith will be directed to the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins\nof the world, rather than to the officiating priest when exercising\nhis absolving power.\n\n\"'I fear that many of my parishioners have passed into the eternal\nworld under the influence of self-delusion, during the long period\nin which I have been self-deceived; and this is to me a source of\nbitter and agonizing sorrow. But, brethren, I have now resolved,\nin the strength of the Lord, that none of the living shall perish\nfrom the same cause, as, from this time forth, it is my intention to\npreach the unsearchable riches of Christ--proclaiming him, in all my\nministrations, as an ever-living Saviour, able and willing to save\neven the chief of sinners.\n\n\"'Christianity has been designated an experimental science, that is,\na science which may be submitted to the test of experience; and to\nthe truthfulness of this designation I can now bear my testimony.\nThe change which has taken place in my belief has been preceded\nby a change of heart. While living under the fatal delusions of\nTractarianism, the Bible was to me a book of mysteries, but now\nit is intelligible--it is the book of the heart. I now know what\nit is to be born of the Spirit, to believe and trust in Christ,\nto love and adore him, and also what it is to have joy and peace\nin believing; and it is my earnest prayer that you, my beloved\nbrethren, may be made partakers of like precious faith, that we may\nlive and rejoice together in hope of the glory to be revealed in us\nwhen our spiritual warfare is accomplished, and we are for ever at\nrest. In conclusion, I would make the same request of you, which the\napostle made of the church of the Thessalonians: \"Finally, brethren,\npray for us, that the word of the Lord may have _free_ course, and\nbe glorified, even as _it is_ with you\" (2 Thess. iii. 1).'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"How do the people appear to like this new\nstyle of preaching?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Some are violently opposed to it, others express\nno decided opinion, but I think the majority are pleased with it.\nThe Curate informed me that he has conversed with a few who have\nrecently felt the gospel to be the power of God to their salvation;\nand, to aid their spiritual progress, a weekly prayer-meeting is\nestablished, where I heard two laymen pray with great simplicity\nand earnestness; and after the devotional part of the service was\nconcluded, the Curate delivered a short and an appropriate address,\nwhich appeared to make a deep impression on this select audience.\nHe and my brother are very active, labouring in season and out of\nseason; they go from house to house, distributing tracts amongst the\npeople, conversing and praying with them; and, in addition to this,\nthey are training a lay agency to pay domiciliary visits to the\nfarm-houses and cottages that are scattered over the hamlet.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"That's one of the most useful plans which\na clergyman can adopt to extend his usefulness amongst the more\nignorant and debased of his parishioners, who will not come to\nchurch unless some influence be employed to induce them. I recollect\na decent woman, the wife of a very rude and profane forester, was\npersuaded, by one of my pious members, to come to church, soon\nafter I was inducted to the living; and it pleased God to convert\nher, which so greatly enraged her husband, that he threatened to\nkill her if she did not leave off coming; but she braved all his\nmenaces, and has been ever since one of my most constant hearers.\nHappening one day to be near his cottage, I ventured to make a\ncall; he was eating his dinner; and as I passed him to take a seat\nin the chimney-corner, he cast a sullen look at me, but spoke not\na word. After a few common-place observations, I referred in terms\nof commendation to a fine plantation of fir and beech trees which I\nhad been admiring, and to the neatness of the quickset hedge which\nencircled it, which so much gratified him that his dogged sternness\nof look and manner relaxed into free and easy good humour, and he\nbecame quite chatty, and asked me if I would take a glass of ale. I\nthanked him for his hospitality, but said I preferred water to any\nother beverage. He rose, took a jug from the dresser, and stepped\nout as nimbly as he would step to wait on his master; his wife\nexpressing her astonishment at what she heard and saw. 'There, and\nplease your reverence, is a glass of pure spring water, as clear\nas crystal, and about as cold as ice.' I sat some time longer, and\nhaving accomplished my object by talking him into a good humour, I\narose to depart, shook hands with him, and left him, and I had the\npleasure of seeing him at church on the following Sabbath morning;\nhe is now one of the most pious, and, I may add, one of the most\npolite members of my spiritual cure. We should imitate the example\nof Jesus Christ, who came to _seek_, as well as to save them that\nare lost.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"I know him quite well. When riding by his cottage\nlast autumn, my horse plunged, and threw me, but providentially\nthere was no accident beyond the bursting of the girths of my\nsaddle, which he repaired with the dexterity of a proficient. Had\nI been a duchess, and had he been a young nobleman, I am sure more\npromptness and delicate kindness could not have been shown me;\nand his wife was equally attentive and obliging. This occurrence\nhas led to a little intimacy, and I have since spent some happy\nmoments in his cottage; and I have seen the big tear fall on his\nsun-burned face when we have been talking of the love of Christ. He\nis more like the gentle lamb than the savage bear. He is fond of\nreading; and, in addition to some historical works, and books on\nhorticulture, he has a copy of Henry's _Commentary on the Bible_,\nBunyan's _Pilgrim_, Scott's _Force of Truth_, Andrew Fuller's\n_Gospel its own Witness_, and John Newton's Works. I don't think any\ninfidel would venture an attack on his faith.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I suppose, Sir, you heard the Curate preach?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, several times. He has a sonorous and clear\nvoice, and his action when in the pulpit is good, because natural;\nhe excels most ministers I have heard in the ease and facility of\nhis style of address; he narrates an anecdote with great skill\nand force of impression; his appeals to the conscience are very\nclose and searching; he dwells much on the love and compassion of\nJesus Christ for sinners ready to perish, and on his ability and\nwillingness to save them; but it is when he is warning them to flee\nfrom the wrath to come--and sketching the dying of an impenitent\nsinner, and his passing alone into the eternal world, to endure the\nanguish and self-reproach which are consequent on being lost and\n_doomed for ever_--that he evinces the most feeling, and discovers\nthe extent of his mental resources to supply him with novel imagery\nof illustration, and terms of alarm and vivid description. Then it\nis that the eyes of all the people are fastened on him; and at times\nthey seem to be awe-struck.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"The introduction of the gospel of the grace\nof God into a parish, which has been long sitting in spiritual\ndarkness, is an event of immense importance; it is the beginning\nof a new epoch in its history; it is the depositing of the mystic\nleaven amongst the people, which effects wonderful changes and\ntransformations in their souls and social habits. I can supply out\nof my own parish examples illustrative and confirmatory of what John\nFoster says in his _Treatise on Popular Ignorance_. 'We cannot,' he\nremarks, 'close this subject without adverting to a phenomenon as\nadmirable as, unhappily, it is rare, and for which the observers\nmay, if they choose, go round the whole circle of their philosophy,\nand begin again, to find any adequate cause other than the most\nimmediate agency of the Almighty Spirit. Here and there an instance\noccurs, to the delight of the Christian philanthropist, of a person\nbrought up in utter ignorance and barbarian rudeness, and so\ncontinuing till late--sometimes very late in life--and then at last,\nafter such a length of time and habit has completed its petrifying\neffect, suddenly seized upon by a mysterious power, and taken with\nan irresistible force out of the dark hold in which the spirit has\nlain imprisoned and torpid, into the sphere of thought and feeling.\n\n\"'We have known instances in which the change, the intellectual\nchange, has been so conspicuous within a brief space of time, that\nan infidel observer must have forfeited all claim to be esteemed\neven a man of sense, if he would not acknowledge--This that you call\nDivine grace, whatever it may really be, is the strongest awakener\nof the faculties after all. And, to a devout man, it is a spectacle\nof most enchanting beauty, thus to see the immortal plant, which\nhas been under a malignant blast while sixty or seventy years have\npassed over it, coming out at length in the bloom of life.'\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"Yes, and we are all living witnesses of the\namazing efficacy of Divine grace in effecting our spiritual\ntransformation, which, like that of the apostle Paul, has been\nproduced in us without any efforts of our own, or any anticipation\nof such an unlikely thing being done. That it is a reality we\ncannot doubt, because, in addition to the evidence arising from our\nconsciousness, we have the evidence of our senses. Now, suppose\nby an action of our imagination we step back a few years in our\nmoral history, and re-assume our original characters, what a\ncontrast should we, in that case, exhibit to our present selves!\nYou, Sir, and your brother would move amongst us as two haughty\nTractarians, magnifying the form and ceremonies of Christianity,\nand depreciating its doctrines and precepts. Mrs. Roscoe would be a\nstereotyped formalist, sitting in her easy-chair, with her week's\npreparation before her on her card-table, looking forward with some\nundefined emotions of superstitious reverence to the sacrament\nSunday. Miss Roscoe would be moving, the principal figure in a\nball-room, exciting the envy or the jealousy of her gay associates.\nMy uncle and aunt would be living at Fairmount, the chief priest\nand priestess in the temple of fashion; routs, and dances, and gala\nnights--coursing-matches, and the prosecution of poachers, and\nthe gains and the losses of the turf, supplying the poor rustics\nwith topics for their table-talk. And, as for myself, I should be\nprowling about the streets and resorts of London, with some profane\nsceptics or accomplished gamesters, humming, in an under-tone of\ngrave or jocular levity--'_Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we\ndie_.' This is a sketch of what we should have been at this moment\nif Divine grace had not come to impress on us another likeness, and\ninfuse within us another spirit. These moral changes in us are not\nshams and delusions, but positive realities.\"\n\n_Mrs. Roscoe._--\"I should not like to become my former self again,\nwithout religious thought, and without any religious emotions. I\nlived without reflection or anticipation; and when any particular\ncircumstances compelled me to advert to the certainty of my death, I\nfelt an awful recoiling of spirit against it.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"If our conversation were overheard by some of\nour fashionable Christians, how strange would it appear to them!\nThey would imagine, if they did not know us, that we were a set of\nincurables; and if they actually knew us, they would speak of us as\na group of fanatics.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This reminds me of an admirable discourse I heard my\nbrother's Curate preach on the words of the apostle John: 'Beloved,\nnow are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we\nshall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like\nhim; for we shall see him as he is' (1 John iii. 2). 'You are now\nliving,' he said, when addressing the pious part of his audience,\n'in a world of sin and sorrow; and you are living in disguise, and\nare not known to the persons amongst whom you live, and with whom\nyou are engaged in the commerce of life. They may know your person,\nyour name, your residence, your relative connections, and your\ndistinctive religious denomination, but they have no knowledge, or\neven conception, of your elevated rank in relation to the wondrous\nbeings of the great unknown world. This should neither astonish\nnor mortify you; for when Jesus Christ sojourned on earth, even\nthough he was the brightness of his Father's glory--even though\nstormy winds and raging waves, disease, and death, and infernal\nspirits acknowledged the absolute supremacy of his dominion over\nthem--yet the men of the world knew him not. They knew him as Jesus\nof Nazareth, the son of the carpenter; they knew him as a madman,\nan impostor, and a blasphemer; but they knew him not as the Son of\nGod in the human form, come to seek and to save them that are lost.\nIf, then, they knew him not who presented such luminous signs of his\ncelestial dignity and glory, how can you expect the world over to\nlook on you as the sons of God, living through the period of your\nminority in disguise, soon to have your relative dignity chronicled\nin the records of immortality?'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"That passage proves that our identity is\npreserved amidst all the changes we have undergone, or may yet\nundergo--identically the same persons after our conversion as we\nwere before our conversion, though vastly different; and, in a\nglorified state, we shall be identically the same persons we are\nnow, but then we shall be made exactly like the Son of God. Our\nLord, when administering consolation to Martha of Bethany, said:\n'And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest\nthou this?' (John xi. 26). There is nothing in this passage which\nrequires its restriction to the singular occasion of its utterance;\nit announces an absolute fact, universally applicable to our Lord's\ndisciples. There may be a momentary suspension of life, attended\nby a sudden yet momentary collapse of the self-conscious faculty,\nwhen the great spirit is in the act of removing from her material\ntabernacle, to enter the house not made with hands, eternal in the\nheavens: but it is only the suspension, it is not the extinction of\nlife; and the self-conscious faculty will soon awake, and bear an\nundisputed testimony to the personal identity of the soul. Yes, and\nthere is to me a sublime and thrilling interest in the belief, that\nI shall be myself again when I awake in the Divine likeness, with\nmy own intellect, with my own imagination, with my own heart, and\nwith my own memory laden with its varied accumulations--identically\nthe same person, yet transformed into a pure and spotless being--and\nthat, after the lapse of millions of ages, I shall be identically\nthe same being I am now; the same being I was in the days of\nchildhood and of youth, of early and of later manhood; the same as\nI was when living amidst the attractions of home and the charms of\nmore extended social intimacies; the same as when I was enduring\nthe privations and sorrows of earth, encountering its conflicts and\nits trials; and the same as when I stood trembling on the narrow\nisthmus of time, fearing to slip the cable of life, and launch into\neternity.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But while identity is preserved, we shall exist\nin some new form, as we shall then be disembodied; shall _see_\nourselves and each other; and be endowed also with some new\nfaculties to fit us for our high destiny, its felicities and\nemployments.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"We shall, undoubtedly, be as fitted to engage in\nall the exercises of the celestial world, and to intermingle, with\ngraceful ease, in all its varied associations and enjoyments, as we\nshould be if we had sprung up into being there, like the angels of\nGod. But yet I do not think it necessarily follows that we shall\nhave any new mental facilities communicated to us; the faculties\nwhich we shall then require may even now be lying dormant in the\nsoul, waiting merely for the act of disembodiment to come forth in\nfull development and activity.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"That's an idea I have long entertained,\nfor experience proves that the spirit of man, even now, when it\nmakes its escape from the control of the senses, as in dreaming,\ndoes occasionally give palpable indications of the possession of\nfaculties far more active and vigorous than is ordinarily displayed\nwhen under their dominion; doing, in fact, when asleep, what cannot\nbe done when awake. I know an intelligent man, on whose testimony I\ncan place absolute dependence, who has told me more than once, that\nthough unable, when awake, to construct a stanza, yet, after reading\nMilton, or Thomson, or Pope, he has when asleep composed poetical\npieces with great ease and rapidity. And I am quite sure that many\nof the sermons I have preached when asleep have far surpassed\nanything I could produce when awake. These facts, and I could\nincrease their number, are to me satisfactory indications that there\nare latent faculties in embryo, lying dormant in the wondrous spirit\nof man, which, when fully developed and brought into action (as they\nwill be when the spirit is disembodied), will be found admirably\nadapted to the exercises of our future economy of existence. Without\nrequiring any new mental creation, we shall feel as much at ease and\nat home in heaven as though we had never lived elsewhere.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Does the apostle, by this expression, '_When he\nshall appear_,' refer to the appearance of Jesus Christ on the\nmorning of the general resurrection, preparatory to the final\njudgment.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Some think he does, but I doubt it. When he\nmakes his grand appearance, preparatory to the final judgment, he\nwill be seen coming in the clouds, and all the holy angels with\nhim; and at the blast of the archangel's trumpet, the pious dead\nwill spring up into life, and, together with the pious who may\nbe living at this great crisis, will undergo a change in their\nphysical formation and appearance; the natural body will become a\nspiritual body, bearing the image of the heavenly, as distinctly\nas they bore, when living on earth, the image of the earthy. But\n_this_ wonderful process of coming up into newness of life, issuing\nin a physical transformation from a natural to a spiritual body,\nis effected by the action of _power_. 'For our conversation is in\nheaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus\nChrist: who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned\nlike unto his glorious body according to the working whereby he is\nable even to subdue all things unto himself' (Phil. iii. 20, 21).\nWhat a sublimely grand spectacle! every one of the august family\nof God will be arrayed in a body resembling the glorified body of\nJesus Christ! But the assimilation to which the words of John refer,\nis produced by vision. We shall be _like_ him when we _see_ him; and\nthe assimilation will take place immediately on seeing him, and in\nconsequence of seeing him; and we shall see him the moment we die,\nfor to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.\"\n\n_Mrs. Stevens._--\"There is something so strange and appalling in\ndeath and in dying, and in having to pass, and pass alone, into the\ngreat world of spirits, that I am not surprised by the shuddering\ndread which some feel when anticipating it; and nothing can allay\nthis fearful commotion, but a firm belief in the watchful eye and\never-active presence of our kind and compassionate Saviour. 'I will\ncome again and receive you to myself,' is the sweet promise which\nreduces agitation to calmness, and inspires confidence and joy in\nthe moment of the final departure from earth.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"We cannot tell on what living being here\non earth any of us will cast the last look of recognition and\naffection; but the first Being we shall see on entering the great\nunknown world will be Jesus Christ, waiting to receive us to himself\nas his own, that we may be glorified together. This we believe, and\nthis we know; and therefore we may rejoice with joy unspeakable.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"Then it would be more in harmony with the spirit of\nour faith, to cherish a desire to depart to see our Lord, than to\nwish to live here always away from him.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I was very much pleased with the following paragraph\nof the discourse which I heard the Curate deliver, from the text\non which you have just been speaking:--'You are following, my\nbrethren, no cunningly-devised fable, as infidelity asserts, when\nyou enter the mystic inclosure of Divine revelation, and look\nwith the piercing eye of faith on the glory to be revealed in\nyou, because the objects of your belief are not inventions, but\nrealities within the range of your actual knowledge. You know in\nwhom you believe; and you know that he has effected in you the\npreparatory spiritual change which is to issue in the grand result\nof your eternal salvation. You know he has convinced you, by his\nHoly Spirit, of the evil of sin; that he has produced in you the\nfeeling of deep self-humiliation and contrition; that he has drawn\nyou to himself, to believe and trust in him; and that he has at\ntimes manifested himself to you as he does not unto the world,\ngiving you peace and joy in believing. These emotions of contrition\nand self-humiliation, of peace and of joy, you know are genuine\nemotions; not self-originated, nor yet produced by the action of any\nmere human agency; and you know that they are the first spiritual\noperations in the new formation of your soul, which is to terminate\nin a perfect likeness to Jesus Christ, when you see him as he is.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I have in my congregation a very\nsimple-hearted, godly man, who is in the service of an avowed\nsceptic; and one day, when he was at work, his master said to him,\n'John, you don't know that what you believe about another world\nis true.'--'And you, master, don't know that it is untrue.'--'I\nbelieve, John, that the visions of future glory which now flit\nso vividly before your imagination, will turn out at last to be\ndeceptions--mere fancy pictures; for when you are dead you will go\nout of existence.'--'I have heard you say that before, master; and\nif it should be so, I shall never know it; but there is _one thing_\nwhich I think I know.'--'And what's that, John?'--'Why, master, it\nis just this. If you were dying--and die you must--you would rather\nhave the bright visions of immortality and eternal life flitting\nbefore your imagination, than die as infidels generally do, in dread\nuncertainty, or in the agony of self-reproach for neglecting the\ngreat salvation. I am safe against both these terrible evils, but\nyou stand exposed to them; and it will very soon be decided which is\nright and which is wrong--you or I. We are both near our journey's\nend; I am seventy-two, and I believe, master, you are a few years\nolder. We shall soon know what our end is to be. I have no fear,\nexcept for you, master.'\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"These plain godly people very often, by their\nhomespun arguments and their shrewd remarks, stagger and confound\neven the most subtile and scornful infidels.\"\n\n_Mr. Lewellin._--\"They often silence them.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I don't think we have many avowed infidels\nin Broadhurst, though, alas! we have too many who are theoretical\nbelievers, but practical unbelievers.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"There are a great many in my brother's parish, and\nyet they generally attend church once on the Sabbath. They are very\nfree in their remarks on his conversion, which, they say, is passing\nfrom one theological absurdity to another; the Curate, in their\nestimation, is a very amiable and zealous fanatic. At the conclusion\nof the sermon from which I have given you one extract, he made this\nstriking appeal to them, and he was kind enough to give me a copy of\nit:--\n\n\"'I will now admit, for the sake of the question I have to propose,\nthat what we believe is fictitious; that there is, in fact, no\nfuture state of existence for man; no such visions of glory for us\nto behold when we pass out of life; and no such scenes of bliss\nfor us to enjoy as I have now been endeavouring to portray. But\nsuppose we really believe that there are, I appeal to you whether\nour faith does not tend to sustain our spirits when suffering under\nthe ills of life; and whether we have not something in prospect,\nwhich is an adequate compensation for the anticipated loss of life\nand all its possessions. Is it nothing to _a noble mind_, rich in\nthe stores of knowledge, and still richer in the anticipations of\nhope--endowed with faculties too valuable to be annihilated without\na pang of regret keener than ever pierced the heart of sorrow--to\nbelieve that he is superior in the duration of his being to the\nbeasts of the field and the creeping things of the earth; that he\nis superior to the trees of the wood, the shrubs of the lawn, and\nthe flowers of the garden; ordained to live after they have outlived\ntheir life, and to live on for ever in dignity and in happiness?\nTake the case of a _poor believer_, who has to sustain the hardships\nand privations of life, often not knowing how to get the next meal\nfor himself and family, or where to get the means of protecting his\nscanty household property against the distraints of his landlord.\nIs it nothing to him to be able to look forward to the coming\nof a period when he shall be in the possession of an inheritance\nuncorrupted, undefiled, and that will never fade away? Take the\ncase of one who has had to weather all through life the storms of\nadversity; to stand exposed to the blasts of calumny, reproach, and\nwrongful testimony; who has had to suffer, like the apostle of the\nGentiles, the peril of the deep, the peril of the wilderness, and\nthe more galling peril of false brethren. Is it nothing for such\na man of accumulative trials, to be able to believe that, after a\nfew more storms have agitated the waters of life, and after a few\nmore reproaches have assailed his reputation, he shall enter into\nthe port of eternal safety, where the wicked cease from troubling,\nand the weary are for ever at rest? Or take the case of one who has\nbeen a _living martyr_ to physical afflictions and sufferings; who\nhas scarcely ever breathed the breath of uncontaminated health,\nthough she has wandered from one salubrious place to another, to\ncatch its invigorating inhaling; whose food has been tasteless, and\nto whom restless nights and days of weariness and pain have been\nappointed; and whose ethereal spirit has been held in a state of\nlangour and depression by the mysterious action of disease on her\nnervous sensibilities. Is it nothing to such a sufferer to believe\nthat, after a few more months or years of agonizing and torturous\nendurance, the dark night of her mourning will pass away in the dawn\nof the bright and serene morning of immortality, whose sun will rise\nwithout a cloud, never to go down or pass under a momentary eclipse?\n\n\"'Why, then, I ask the infidel, will you attempt to destroy or\ndisturb the faith of such believers? Why not let each one go daily,\nin the quietness of his spirit, to draw the waters of healing,\nof refreshment, and invigoration from this perennial well, which\nhe has found in the wilderness? Why attempt to throw a dark and\nimpenetrable veil over the enchanting scenes which the opening\nheavens partially disclose, and on which he gazes in joyous hope\nand in ecstasy of longing? Why not let him remain, under what you\ncall the spell of his delusion, when it entails on you no loss\nor suffering, but which imparts to him such holy and sublime\nenjoyments? Suppose it be--what you tell him it is--all a delusion;\nyet if he die under its power he will never know it; why not, then,\nlet him die in peace? surely his peaceful death can occasion you\nno bitter regret. Why try to rouse him out of his elysian reverie,\nsimply to let him know that death is coming to deprive him of all\nhis sublime anticipations, and slip him out of existence? What\ngratification can success in such a species of destructive labour\nafford you? You are not the daring highway robber, who plunders\nanother to enrich himself; you are the wanton or the malignant\nincendiary, who devastates that you may revel in the irreparable\nlosses which you inflict on others, with no prospect of personal\nadvantage. But suppose that what you reject as fanciful and\nfabulous, _should turn out at last to be a reality_, then your doom\nis certain and truly awful; you will pass into the eternal world\nalone, a lost spirit, to perish, yet retaining your consciousness\nfor ever. And you cannot know that it is not a reality, unless you\ncan acquire all knowledge, and this you cannot do while you live.\nYou must die to know that there is no hereafter; and if you survive\nyour own death, and live on in some intermediate state, you must\nvisit every nook and corner of the vast universe before you can know\nthat there is no heaven and no hell. Why, then, proudly arrogate\nto yourself the possession of knowledge which you know that it is\nimpossible for you to acquire? and why, while unable to decide\nagainst the reality of what we believe, are you not in terror lest\nyou should be labouring under a criminal self-deception? If there be\nanother world, which you cannot disprove, with what horror will your\nspirit, when disembodied, enter it, to meet her fearful and merited\ndoom, to dwell for ever amongst the devil and his angels?\n\n\"'The efforts which you are now making to induce others to reject\nthe Christian faith as an imposition on human credulity, will\nreceive AT LAST a recompense; and what will that be?--their\nbitterest curses, which will be an aggravation to your misery, far\nbeyond the capability of human conception. There, in the eternal\nworld, you will be a lost spirit, assailed by other lost spirits,\nreproaching you as the prime agent in effecting their ruin for\never; and with emotions of deadly hatred, and in terms of malignant\naccusation, corresponding with the awful intensity of their mental\nsuffering. Regret then, on their account or on your own, will be\nuseless; for could you shed as many tears of sorrow, as there have\nbeen dew-drops since the birth of creation; could you heave as many\nsighs and groans, as there have been pulsations of pain since the\nfirst child of sorrow felt the bitterness of grief; and could you\noffer as many petitions for mercy, as there have been lamentations\nof woe since Esau endured the anguish of unavailing repentance, it\nwould be of no use. Once lost, by dying in your sins, there is no\npossibility of recovery or escape. When, then, the final issue is\nso tremendously awful, the preparatory anxiety and caution to avoid\nit cannot be too scrupulous or guarded; but to advert to it with a\nspirit of levity, or to deem it too insignificant and unimportant to\ndemand the most solemn attention, is to give decisive evidence that\nyou have prematurely fitted yourselves for destruction, and are ripe\nfor hell, before the reaper is in readiness to put in the sickle of\ndeath to cut you down.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"This, Sir, must have been a most impressive\nsermon. What effect did it appear to produce?\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The congregation listened to it with profound\nattention; and some were subdued; they quailed under it.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"If, Sir, a few years since, you had seen and\nheard in some night vision, what you have now seen and heard under\nthe broad daylight of positive reality, you would have thought,\nwhen awakening out of your sleep, that you had witnessed something\nof what God could do, but you could not have anticipated its actual\noccurrence.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"That's very true, Sir; I wish you would go, and see\nand judge for yourself.\"\n\n_Miss Roscoe._--\"Yes, do, Sir; and, if you will permit me, I will\naccompany you. It is the Lord's doing, and it is a very choice\nspecimen of the Divine workmanship.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I should like to go, but my age and\ninfirmities forbid it. I must be contented to look at the\ndescriptive sketching of this sublime manifestation of the power and\nthe grace of God; it is the triumph of evangelical truth over the\nlifeless formalism of Tractarian arrogance and delusion.\"\n\n\"Our prayers,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"are answered; my dear uncle and\naunt are right at last.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUAKERESS.\n\n\nOn returning from my protracted visit to Fairmount, and resuming my\npastoral labours, I was gratified by the eager welcome I received\nfrom the people of my charge. During my absence the pulpit had\nbeen regularly supplied by a succession of ministers of various\nreligious denominations--men who had never subscribed to an act\nof uniformity imposed by human legislation, but yet, in all their\npublic ministrations, they closely adhered to _the unity of the\nfaith_, because they received the Bible as the rule of their\nreligious belief and practice. On looking around my congregation, I\nmissed a venerable elder and several others, who had gone the way\nof all flesh; also, a few individuals and families, who had removed\nto other localities. Yet I was pleased to find that there was no\nperceptible decrease in numbers, and to learn that the harmony of my\nflock had not been in any way disturbed by strife and contention.\n\nAmongst the various causes which lead to the peace and prosperity of\na Christian church, the example and influence of females deserves\na prominent place; it operates silently, yet powerfully, both to\nrepress what is evil and to stimulate to what is good. Woman was\nfirst in the transgression, but in every age she has laboured to\nrepair the evil which that direful calamity has entailed on the\nhuman race; and, though less conspicuous in her sphere of action\nthan man, she has often equalled him in earnest devotedness,\nand has sometimes surpassed him in self-denying sacrifices and\nheroic sufferings. The apostle makes honourable mention of those\nwomen who laboured with him in the gospel; and it was my privilege\nand happiness to have some as co-workers, of great, if not of\nequal importance and worth. One of the most useful of these was\nMiss Chester, a diffident and unobtrusive woman, yet ever active\nin labours of love--doing everything with so much prudence and\namiability that she neither provoked censure nor awakened jealousy\nor envy. She had acquired great aptitude in gaining the confidence\nof the females in the congregation, whose hearts the Lord appeared\nto be opening to receive the truth; she could go where the habits\nof social life forbade me to enter, and could gain information on\nthe delicate question of personal piety, which would have been\nwithheld even from my solicitations. In this way she acted as a\npioneer, and often brought me information regarding individuals\nof whose religious awakening I might otherwise never have heard.\nThe first time she called on me after my return, she had a great\ndeal to tell me of what had taken place among my people during my\nabsence; but the most gratifying intelligence of all was, that she\nthought her esteemed friend, Miss Osbourne, had become decidedly\npious, though she had not yet openly avowed herself. Miss Osbourne\nwas not one of my own people, but had been brought up in the Society\nof Friends, and had, to all human appearance, been a consistent\nadherent of that community. On making some inquiries as to this\nunexpected transformation of character and habit, I learned that\nit took its rise from a sermon she heard from Matt. vi. 5--\"_that\nthey may be seen of men_.\" While listening to the preacher, and when\nreflecting on what he said, she was convinced that it was contrary\nto the spirit of the New Testament for a disciple of Jesus Christ to\nassume any distinctive denominational sign, either in dress or style\nof speech--as it is holding out a secular mark to attract human\nattention; or if this be not the motive, she perceived that such was\nthe result. From that time forth she exchanged the dress and speech\nof Quakerism for that which is in current usage in genteel life,\nbelieving that the best evidence of a living faith is to add to\n\"faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance;\nand to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to\ngodliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity\" (2\nPet. i. 5-7). On leaving me Miss Chester said--\"The history of her\nreligious experience will, I have no doubt, interest and gratify\nyou. I have promised to spend an evening with her soon, and I hope\nyou will accompany me; I am quite sure she will be very glad to see\nyou.\"\n\nMiss Chester having made an appointment with Miss Osbourne, the\nevening soon came round that we were to pay her a visit at her quiet\nresidence, and Miss Chester having called on me for the purpose,\nwe set out on our mission together. Just prior to this my first\ninterview with Miss Osbourne, I had lent my chapel to the Friends\nto hold a public meeting, when I had the pleasure of hearing Mr.\nJoseph Gurney and another address a large and an attentive audience.\nTo this meeting Miss Osbourne very naturally referred, thanking me\nat the same time, for this mark of respect for the body; adding,\n\"I am no advocate of the _esprit du corps_. We may cherish our\npreferences, yet I like to see all true believers living together in\nfriendly intercourse.\"\n\n\"It is, Madam, by coming into close contact we rub off the angular\nparts of our denominational character, and then, as a necessary\nconsequence, we can develope the more sterling attributes of our\nrenewed nature, as one in Christ.\"\n\n\"I think Friends have isolated themselves too much. They live in a\nlittle Goshen of their own, and cherish rather too fondly the idea\nthat they, and they only, have a purely spiritual faith. They look\non others as devotees of carnal ordinances.\"\n\n\"We receive the ordinances which are delivered to us in the New\nTestament, and observe them as tests of our subjection to the\nauthority of Jesus Christ; but, in our judgment, they do not possess\nany inherent power to work in us the fruits of righteousness. We\nlook through them to the great truths they symbolize. Baptism\nsymbolizes the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy\nGhost; and the Lord's Supper symbolizes the shedding of blood for\nthe remission of sins. And this Friends might have known long since\nif they had consulted our best writers; but this they neglect doing,\nand hence they do not know us _perfectly_. Indeed, they cherish many\nwrong notions and impressions about us.\"\n\n\"Yes; they move in a circle of their own, which is rather a confined\nand peculiar one. They do not like to cross the line which keeps\nthem distinct from others. This I have long considered an evil,\nand I may say I have felt it to be one. Thus, when the controversy\nsprang up in America about the divinity of Jesus Christ, and which\nled to the secession of so many from the Society of Friends, I\nwas in a most bewildered state; I had no previous information to\nhelp me to form a correct judgment on the questions in dispute and\ndiscussion.\"\n\n\"The tenacity with which the Friends adhere to the '_inward light_,'\nwhich they imagine is given to every one, very naturally renders\nany laborious effort, on their part to understand the facts and the\ntruths of the Bible a mere work of supererogation. They hand down,\nfrom one generation to another, a few distinctive opinions, which,\ncombined with other causes, keep them a compact body and peculiar\npeople; but I apprehend there is among them too great a lack of a\ndiligent searching of the Scriptures, to ascertain how far these\nopinions are supported by Divine authority.\"\n\n\"I myself _was_ very fond of this '_inward light_' theory. It was\nto me, what the all-sufficiency of reason is to the rationalist.\nI was my own guide and my own authority. I could not stoop to\nreceive instruction from prophets or apostles. But my faith in its\ninfallible guidance has long since been shaken--I may now say, quite\ndestroyed. I find it is not powerful enough to keep the Society of\nFriends from a gradual decay. They are dying off towards extinction,\nwhile other denominations are increasing in their numbers.\"\n\n\"I know some of the rising generation who have withdrawn from the\nSociety of Friends and gone over to the Established Church. There\nwas, I believe, a large secession at Manchester some few years ago?\"\n\n\"Yes; but nothing shook the body so violently as the American\ncontroversy on the divinity of Jesus Christ. The shock was felt\nhere, and Friends were not prepared for it. It led many to imbibe\nthe Socinian heresy, and some became avowed sceptics.\"\n\n\"In relation to all controversies knowledge is power, but ignorance\nis weakness. If we are trained by a regular course of proper\nteaching to understand the distinct yet united truths of the\nBible--the evidences by which they are supported, and the arguments\nby which objections to them are refuted--we are then prepared\nto withstand the shocks of heresy without being startled into\nscepticism by the imposing dogmatism or subtle plausibilities of its\nadvocates.\"\n\n\"Very true; but Friends have not the advantage of such training; and\ntherefore, when a controversial spirit does spring up amongst them,\nit becomes as a wolf in the sheepfold.\"\n\n\"But though controversy may do some evil, yet it may do some good;\nfor in the spiritual world, no less than in the physical, stagnation\nis often more perilous and fatal than the most violent tempest.\"\n\n\"Very true. I know that the American controversy has done some good\nin England. It has awakened the dormant mind of Friends to a calm\nand close investigation of the subjects of discussion; and the\nresult is, that the belief of many now rests on logical evidence,\nrather than traditionary testimony. Till it took place, and excited\nthe attention of Friends, I always looked on Jesus Christ merely as\nan amiable and intelligent philanthropist--a model for us to copy\nafter.\"\n\n\"But as there is an immense disparity between humanity and\ndivinity--between a perfect man, and God manifest in the flesh--what\neffect did the first announcement of the divinity of Jesus Christ\nproduce on your mind? Did it not startle you?\"\n\n\"I felt an instinctive revolting against it. I felt more disposed to\ntreat it as a legend, than look upon it as a fact.\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Because I thought it was not likely that God would manifest\nhimself in the flesh, when he could so easily accomplish any\nbeneficent purpose without stooping to such an act of humiliation\nand meanness. Indeed, for a very long time the more I thought of it\nthe more I revolted against it. I loathed it, it was offensive to my\ntaste; and I did not like to hear the question argued.\"\n\n\"But did it never strike you, when reading the gospels, that\nJesus Christ attempted to make the Jews believe that he was a\nDivine incarnation? I suppose you must have read the following\npassage--'The Jews answered him, saying, For a good work we stone\nthee not; but for blasphemy; and because that thou, being a man,\nmakest thyself God' (John x. 33)?\"\n\n\"Why, yes; but I thought their accusation against him on this point,\nwas a wilful perversion of his meaning--an excess on their part of\nmalignant feeling.\"\n\n\"But did you never receive an impression, from the facility with\nwhich he performed many stupendous works, and his entire avoidance\nof all pomp and display, that he was a wonderful Being, something\nmore than man?\"\n\n\"Why, no. The truth is, I never felt sufficient interest in the\nquestion to pursue the investigation of it with attention. I\nrevolted from it.\"\n\n\"But when you were forced to attend to it, in some measure, by the\nfrequency of its discussion amongst Friends, did any other reason\npresent itself to your mind as a constraint, or an inducement to\nreject it as a mere legend?\"\n\n\"Yes; the absolute impossibility that two such dissimilar natures,\nas the Divine and human, could be united in one person.\"\n\n\"But did you never advert to the conjunction of the immaterial and\nmaterial--two very dissimilar natures--in your own person?\"\n\n\"I recollect hearing one Friend, who was arguing the question with\nanother, advance that fact in confirmation of the proposition that\nnatures very dissimilar to each other can be conjoined in one\nidentity; but at the time I thought it more fanciful than correct.\nIndeed, I revolted against any evidence that was brought forward\nby any one in support of what I considered a legend, rather than a\nreality.\"\n\n\"But did it never strike you that his relative character, as the\nSaviour of sinners, involves in it the necessity of his being\nsomething more than a mere man, it being an absurdity to suppose\nthat one man can save others?\"\n\n\"I never adverted to his relative character at this period; I had no\ndefinite conception of it, nor did I wish to have. I did not feel\nthat I needed a Saviour; I thought his being called one was a mere\nconventionalism--a mark of respect.\"\n\n\"At the time when the divinity of Jesus Christ became a popular\nsubject of discussion amongst Friends, the question of his atonement\nwas also agitated; what were your sentiments respecting it?\"\n\n\"I repudiated it, as derogatory to the Deity.\"\n\n\"In what respect did you consider it derogatory to the character of\nGod?\"\n\n\"I thought it an impeachment of his benevolence to suppose that he\nwould not exercise his clemency unless he was induced to do so by\nthe shedding of blood. And I also thought it was an impeachment of\nhis equity to require innocence to suffer and die in behalf of the\nguilty. All my feelings were opposed to it.\"\n\n\"But Friends in general have professed their belief in the reality\nand necessity of the atonement; and Joseph Gurney, who is an\nauthority amongst them, has written in defence and support of it.\nDid you ever read his treatise?\"\n\n\"It was put into my hands by one of our elders, who knew that I\nentertained some doubts on the subject. I looked into it, but as\nsoon as I found that he attempted to support his views of the\natonement by citations from the Bible, I felt that I could much\neasier reject the Bible as a revelation from heaven, than I could\nadmit a dogma so utterly opposed to my reason. Indeed, I had become\na confirmed sceptic, though I did not like to avow it, as I knew it\nwould give pain to many for whom I had great esteem; and, besides, I\ndid not like the idea of making myself the subject of public notice\nand remark.\"\n\n\"Did you, at this period, feel at ease--quite satisfied with\nyourself and your condition?\"\n\n\"No; not quite. I sometimes felt an impression, and it was a very\npainful one, that I was not acting honourably nor honestly by\nstanding identified with a body of Christians, after I had virtually\nrenounced my belief in the articles of their faith. This greatly\nperplexed me. I knew not what to do.\"\n\n\"I suppose if you had openly avowed, what you had virtually done,\nthey would have excluded you from their fellowship?\"\n\n\"It is probable that a sentence of disownment would have been passed\nagainst me. This I should not have liked. It would have given so\nmuch pain to my parents.\"\n\n\"There is now, I believe, a change in your views of Divine truth?\"\n\n\"Yes; and a great change, not only in my views of Divine truth, but\nin my appreciation of its importance.\"\n\n\"Will you tell me what was the means of leading you to receive the\nfaith you once repudiated?\"\n\n\"In the first instance, the reading of Dr. Chalmers' _Astronomical\nDiscourses_ weakened, in some measure, one very strong objection\nwhich I had long cherished against the truth of Christianity, and\nwhich I then considered invincible.\"\n\n\"I presume you refer to the objection which some philosophic\nsceptics have advanced against the Divine origin of Christianity,\nthat it is monstrous to suppose the Deity would lavish on so\ninsignificant a world as ours such peculiar and distinguishing\nattention as are ascribed to him in the Bible?\"\n\n\"Yes. To suppose that he would make such costly sacrifices as the\nBible says he did make, to recover such a puny race of beings from\ntheir degradation and misery, when, if they were swept out of\nexistence, they would hardly be missed from the great field of the\ncreation--was an objection which struck me with great force; and I\nlong cherished it. It appeared quite insurmountable. But though the\neloquent doctor, by weakening the force of a long-cherished opinion,\ncowed in some degree my sceptical spirit, it was not subdued--I\nfelt more disturbed than gratified. Indeed, I felt so much annoyed,\nthat I resolved I would read no more speculations relative to\nChristianity. I was determined to banish religion from my thoughts.\"\n\n\"Did you remain for any length of time in this state of mental\nisolation from all contact with the facts and truths of the Bible?\"\n\n\"No; I really found it impossible to isolate my mind from them.\nThe more I tried to do so, the closer did they cleave to me. I\nfelt painfully annoyed by the ceaseless action of my thoughts and\nreflections. They disturbed me in my sleep, my dreams were often\npainfully exciting, and I often awoke in a tumult of mental emotion.\"\n\n\"Did this severe mental conflict subdue you to the obedience of the\nChristian faith?\"\n\n\"No, no: quite the reverse. I felt, if possible, a more haughty\nindignation against the truths by which I was so painfully\nannoyed--they followed me as my own shadow. At length, I went so far\nas to resolve that I would rather avow my scepticism, than keep my\nrank as a believer.\"\n\n\"Then what led you to embrace the faith which you repudiated with\nsuch indignant feelings?\"\n\n\"A most humiliating sacrifice of my integrity. It came about in this\nway. Joseph Gurney and a few other Friends met at my father's house\nto spend the evening; and as I expected there would be a religious\nservice, I feigned indisposition as an excuse for not being present.\nI withdrew to my own room, and resumed reading Macaulay's Essay\non Milton, but could not proceed with it. I took up another book,\nbut soon closed it. I felt painfully restless--vexed that I was by\nmyself, and mortified at what I had done. That night was a restless\nnight to me. I had never before deviated from absolute truth. I was\nnow sunk in my own esteem, and I felt that if my friends knew what\nI had done, and why I did it, I should sink in their esteem also. I\nretired to rest; but sleep was gone from me. When musing on what I\nhad done, and what I must do in the morning, to carry on this work\nof deception, the idea rushed into my mind with terrific force--but\nGod knows _what I have done_, and what I am now meditating to do to\nconceal my shame! Then I felt the pang of remorse. I had never felt\nit before. It was a strange sensation. I felt that I had fallen from\nmy steadfastness.\"\n\nMiss Chester had hitherto taken no part in the conversation, but\non seeing her friend painfully excited, she remarked, \"that the\nfirst convictions and impressions of conscious guilt have often a\nvery singular effect on the mind. Some degree of perplexity is felt\nto account for them; but the most perplexing question is, How can\nrelief be obtained?\"\n\n\"Mine that night,\" said Miss Osbourne, \"were very acute and\ndepressing--almost overwhelming. However, I indulged a vague hope\nthat I should sleep away my disquietudes, and be myself again in the\nmorning, and feel as in former times. I resolved I would never again\nviolate the sanctity of absolute truth.\"\n\n\"And did the morning bring relief?\"\n\n\"No, Sir. It brought a rapid succession of strange and very painful\nemotions. I could neither banish nor repress them. I knew not what\nto do. I remained in my own room, for I was too excited to mix with\nthe family. I spent a lonely and very unhappy day.\"\n\n\"Did you not attempt to pray for mercy to pardon the act of\ndeception you had committed?\"\n\n\"The idea occurred to me more than once. I had heard a Friend, some\nweeks before at a public meeting, discourse about the publican in\nthe temple. His simple prayer came very vividly to my recollection;\nbut my spirit was too haughty to adopt it. My convictions of\nconscious guilt had merely disturbed my quietude. They had not gone\ndeep enough to awaken any alarm for my soul's safety. They inflicted\ntorture, but excited no genuine penitence and contrition. I felt\nbewildered and unhappy. I knew not what to do.\"\n\n\"Did you long remain in this bewildered and unhappy state?\"\n\n\"For several months, I was a living martyr to mental disquietude and\nrestlessness.\"\n\n\"Did you search the Scriptures to see if you could find anything in\nthem to minister relief to your disconsolate heart?\"\n\n\"Such an idea never struck me. If it had been suggested to me, I\nthink I should have scorned it as a fanatical idea. I had always\nlooked upon the Bible as a compilation of strange writings, without\nunity, order, or authority. I had no more notion of deriving\nrelief from them, than from reading any other book of history or\necclesiastic ceremonies.\"\n\n\"A melancholy proof, Madam, of the great defect in your religious\ntraining!\"\n\n\"That I now feel and deplore. The Bible I now revere as the\ninaudible voice of the Lord speaking to the conscience and the\nheart.\"\n\n\"And how did you come to change your views as to the Bible?\"\n\n\"One evening, while I was sitting alone, bemoaning my hapless\ncondition, and mourning over the fruitless efforts I had made to\nregain mental tranquillity, the sense of conscious guilt became\nvery, very acute, and very oppressive. It weighed down my spirit.\nIt was _at this time_ attended with some degree of alarm and dread.\nI began to think it possible that God would bring me before him\nin judgment. This was a new idea. I trembled when thinking of the\nprobable issue--lost, lost for ever! At this eventful moment, when\nthe dread of such a terrible issue was wringing and torturing\nmy spirit, a sudden impulse, accompanied by a ray of celestial\nlight--though then I knew not that it was celestial light--produced\na deep conviction of the _necessity_ of an atonement to expiate\nhuman guilt; and then I at once admitted _the reality_ of the\natonement made by Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"Did these new discoveries of truth minister to your relief?\"\n\n\"Not immediately; I was still bewildered and unhappy. I was trying\nto make myself good--trying to work out my own righteousness. But\nI could make no satisfactory progress. I thought at times that my\nheart was getting worse instead of better. I was treading on the\nverge of overwhelming despondency. I felt an outcast. In this state\nof extreme perplexity and mental torture, I betook myself to the\nBible; but I did so more to divert my mind from its miseries than\nwith an expectation of gaining relief. The Divine Spirit directed my\nattention to the passage--'If any man sin, we have an advocate with\nthe Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. And he is the propitiation\nfor our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the\nwhole world' (1 John ii. 1, 2). Had the Lord spoken to me from\nheaven, I might have been more startled; but there was such a sweet\nconsolatory power accompanying the reading of the passage, that I\nfelt it came from him. I was in a moment, in a calm of ecstatic\nemotion. I shall never forget the sensation. It was a sudden\ntransition from torture to ease. I then felt, and for the first\ntime, an intense glow of love to Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"Did not the reading of that passage,\" said Miss Chester, \"with its\nhallowed accompaniments, bring you on your knees before the Lord\nwith weeping and supplication?\"\n\n\"It did; but for a while, and rather a long while, surprise was the\nmost predominant emotion of my heart. I was surprised that I had\nnever previously felt myself to be a guilty and helpless sinner\nneeding an Almighty Saviour. I was surprised that I should ever have\nfelt a loathing and hostility to a scheme of salvation which is such\na sweet and rich manifestation of the loving-kindness of God. And\nI was surprised that I could have lived so long without feeling a\nsupreme love for Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"Your experience, my dear Miss Osbourne,\" said Miss Chester, \"is\na fresh confirmation of a remark I heard a good minister of Jesus\nChrist make not long since:--_A sense of_ NEED must precede all\nintense concern for our salvation, and all right apprehensions of\nthe relation in which Jesus Christ stands to us. When this is felt,\nthe veil of mysticism is taken off the truth which is deposited in\nthe Bible; and it becomes intelligible and powerful. As our Lord\nsays: 'They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are\nsick' (Matt. ix. 12).\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeveral months elapsed before I had another interview with Miss\nOsbourne; but I noticed that her attendance at the chapel was\nregular and punctual. She listened with marked attention to the\npulpit ministrations; but there was a pensiveness in her look, which\nstill indicated mental disquietude. At the request of Miss Chester,\nI again visited Miss Osbourne, along with her. On expressing a hope\nthat she was making progress in the path of life, she said, \"I am\nstill in a state of painful bewilderment, and still unhappy. I no\nsooner get over one spiritual difficulty than I feel perplexed and\nentangled by another. I find that the pursuit after truth lies\nthrough a thorny maze.\"\n\n\"I trust you are now thoroughly established in your belief of the\nsupreme divinity of the Son of God, and of the reality and efficacy\nof his atonement?\"\n\n\"O yes, I am. His divinity is written as with sunbeams; and I now\nwonder how any one can doubt it, who admits the authenticity of the\nBible. And his atonement is equally conspicuous.\"\n\n\"What, then, is the fresh spiritual difficulty that now disquiets\nyou?\"\n\n\"I don't know whether I rightly understand the import of the\nexpression which Jesus Christ uses--'COME TO ME, and I will give\nyou rest.' It is evident he makes the present and future happiness\nof sinners to depend on a personal application to himself. Hence\nhe says, 'All that the Father giveth to me shall come to me: and\nhim that cometh to _me_ I will in no wise cast out.' As this style\nof speech was never employed by any other prophet or messenger, it\nappears to constitute a peculiarity of great importance in relation\nto his supreme dignity. _He_ cannot be a mere man who places such an\ninconceivable blessing on such an issue. But though I am convinced,\nafter long and patient investigation, that our salvation is made\nto depend on a personal application to Jesus Christ, I often have\nthis question pressed on my attention--How may I know if _I_ have\nactually applied to Him in the exact way which the Scriptures\nrequire? To some, who are rooted and grounded in the faith, this\nquestion may present no difficulty; but to me it is one of great\nimportance and of painful perplexity.\"\n\n\"One difficulty which attends the solution of this question arises\nfrom the very _nature_ of the application which it supposes. If\ncoming to Christ were a bodily act, and if the dependence to be\nreposed in him fell under the cognizance of the senses, we should be\nable to decide with perfect ease whether we have come to him or not.\nBut it is simply a mental act, which may be performed even while\nthe believer remains in a state of doubt. To believe or to trust in\nChrist, is the first act of the mind; but to come to a satisfactory\nconclusion that this act of dependence agrees with the requirements\nof the Scripture, supposes that a process of examination and\ncomparison has taken place. I am to judge of my faith from its\neffects; as the worth of a tree is to be decided by the quality\nof its fruit. And here two questions demand my attention: first,\nWhat moral effects does faith produce? Secondly, Have these effects\nbeen produced in me? Faith purifies the heart from the love of\nsin; brings the distant and unseen objects of the eternal world\nto act with impressive force on the judgment, and affections,\nand imagination; induces its possessor to walk as seeing him who\nis invisible; to love the Redeemer with a supreme affection; and\nconstrains him to attempt to advance the glory of God in the world\nby a life of practical devotedness to his will. These are some of\nthe effects or moral evidences of faith; _and if they always existed\nin their highest degree_, we should have some certain landmarks of\ndecision, when attempting to ascertain the genuine nature of our\ndependence on Christ, which neither sophistry nor unbelief would\nbe able to remove. But as an excellent writer observes:--'The mind\nof every Christian experiences many _alternations_ of holiness\nand sin. Temptations often and unexpectedly intrude. The objects\nwhich engross the whole heart of the sinner, unhappily engage at\ntimes in greater or less degrees that of the Christian. Nor is\ntheir influence always transient. David, Solomon, and other saints\nmentioned in the Scriptures, for a length of time sinned. Not a\nsmall number of sins are committed in thought, word, and action, in\nthe brighter and better seasons; nay, in the brightest and best. 'I\nsin,' says Bishop Beveridge; 'I repent of my sins, and sin in my\nrepentance. I pray for forgiveness, and sin in my prayers. I resolve\nagainst my future sin, and sin in forming my resolutions. So that I\nmay say, My whole life is almost a continued course of sin.' This\nis the language of one of the best men that ever lived. A still\nbetter man has said, 'For the good that I would I do not: but the\nevil which I would not, that I do' (Rom. vii. 19). If, then, the\nmost eminent saints, in the most improved state of their character,\nand the most sacred seasons of their devotion, have the evidence of\ntheir faith weakened by the force of contrary evidence, ought it to\nexcite our surprise if in us it is often obscured, and sometimes\noverbalanced?\"\n\n\"Then I judge from the tenor of your remarks, that, for consolation\nand hope, we must turn from ourselves, and constantly depend on\nChrist as a Saviour; whatever may be the varying tone and tendencies\nof the heart.\"\n\n\"Yes; trust in him at all times--in sorrow, and in joy; when\nassailed by temptation, and in seasons of triumph; whether in\ntransport on the mount, or abased in the valley--one undeviating act\nof the mind from the beginning to the end of the conflict.\"\n\nOur conversation now turned on the honour which the God of all grace\nconfers on an individual whom he condescends to admit into a state\nof fellowship with himself; and on the consequent obligation which\nthis places him under to make an open and unequivocal profession of\nreligion.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Miss Chester, \"the noblest distinction we can attain\nto, is to be endowed with the faith of God's elect; but it is a\ndistinction which often exposes us to the ridicule and the scorn of\nthe world.\"\n\n\"The semi-Christians of modern times,\" I remarked, \"are as ignorant\nof the relative dignity of the sons of God, as the ancient Jews were\nof the personal dignity of Jesus Christ. Nor ought this to excite\nour surprise, seeing that, as the apostle says, 'the world knows\nus not, because it knew him not.' But though the world be ignorant\nof our relative dignity, we ourselves are not; and yet there are\nsome who appear ashamed of it. They desire to gain the crown of\nglory; but refuse to identify themselves with the disciples of Jesus\nChrist, that they may escape the odium to which they are exposed.\"\n\n\"There is in this,\" said Miss Osbourne, \"a species of meanness, of\nwhich, I think, an honourable mind could not be guilty. But though\nsome who have felt the power of truth to a certain extent, may\nhesitate to identify themselves with the disciples of Jesus Christ,\nyet they may be influenced by the purest motives. I have a friend,\nwho has recently been convinced of the truth of the gospel; and yet,\nwhen conversing with an eminently pious stranger on some of its\nsacred topics, very ingenuously said, '_But, madam, I do not wish\nyou to suppose that I am a Christian_. _I admire the doctrines and\nthe precepts of Christianity; and I admire the character of those\nwho display its moral virtues; but I dare not rank myself among\ntheir number. O no; I am not good enough!_' Now, this friend has\nmental firmness enough to withstand the rudest shocks of reproach;\nbut as she has not, in her own estimation, felt the transforming\npower of the truth, she cannot conscientiously identify herself with\nthose who have.\"\n\n\"This,\" I remarked, \"is neither a singular nor a hopeless case. The\nreluctance which your friend feels to make a profession of religion,\ntill she is satisfied that she possesses the principle, is a decided\nproof of her integrity; and though she may remain in this state of\ndubious perplexity for a still longer time, yet she will never enjoy\n_perfect_ peace, till she becomes decided.\"\n\n\"But ought a person to make a decided profession of religion before\nhe has attained a full assurance of his personal interest in the\nredemption and love of Jesus Christ?\"\n\n\"In my opinion, the very moment a sinner trusts in Christ Jesus for\nthe salvation of his soul, he places himself under an obligation to\nrender obedience to his laws. The first petition is, '_Lord, save,\nor I perish_;' the next in order, and which should immediately\nfollow, is, '_Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?_' He distinctly\nstates what he would have us do:--'Whosoever therefore shall confess\nme before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in\nheaven' (Matt. x. 32).\"\n\n\"But is it not a wise _discretion_ to tarry awhile, to test the\nstrength of the religious principle, before the garb of a public\nprofession is put on? Should we not avoid precipitation in a matter\nof such importance?\"\n\n\"But would you, during this probationary period, depend on your\nown moral strength to sustain the vital energy of your religious\nprinciples?\"\n\n\"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"Then you would depend on the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ to\npreserve the vitality of your principles, while you are passing\nthrough this probationary period; the length of it to be decided by\nyour own discretion.\"\n\n\"I would depend on him to keep me steadfast in his ways.\"\n\n\"And could you not depend on him with as much implicitness and\nconstancy to keep you steadfast after you have put on the yoke of\nobedience, as you can when preparing to do it?\"\n\n\"Most certainly.\"\n\n\"There is a little incident recorded in Matthew xvi. 21, which\nembodies one of the laws of the mediatorial government of Jesus\nChrist. '_From that time forth_', that is, after his apostles had\nmade a public avowal of their belief in him as the Son of God,\nhe began to show unto them the coming events of his wonderful\nhistory. Yes, my friend, the path of duty is the path of safety, and\nobedience brings its own reward, as clearer manifestations of the\nlove of Christ usually follow an open profession of devotedness to\nhim.\"\n\n\"I remained a spectator the last time the ordinance of the Lord's\nSupper was administered at your chapel; I thought it a very solemn\nservice, and I was a good deal impressed by it.\"\n\n\"I hope you have outlived the scrupulous objections of your\neducational training, and now admit that the ordinances of baptism\nand the Lord's Supper are of perpetual obligation?\"\n\n\"I must confess that they have engaged some portion of my thoughts,\nparticularly the Lord's Supper. I recently read Joseph Gurney's\nremarks on it, but they did not satisfy me. I thought them more\ningenious than solid; and they seemed to me very much a piece of\nspecial pleading. From his book I turned to 1 Cor. xi., and I\nrecollect saying when I had finished, the apostle Paul and Joseph\nGurney don't think and write alike on this subject. As they can't\nboth be right, one must be wrong; which shall I follow?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Miss Chester, \"you don't find that a difficult\nquestion to decide?\"\n\n\"Why, my dear, it is not a very easy matter to get over long\ncherished scruples--to obliterate early impressions, and adopt\nnew religious habits and customs. But still, I must confess, that\nan inspired apostle is a safer guide, than an uninspired partizan\nwriter. However, there is a previous question, which, if I may be\npermitted to mention it, I should like to have answered. What, in\nyour judgment, are the spiritual advantages which are connected with\nthe regular observance of the ordinance of the Lord's Supper?\"\n\n\"In the first place,\" I replied, \"it tends, and I think very\nforcibly, to give fixedness and solidity to our faith in the\nhistoric truthfulness of our Lord's sufferings and death. He himself\ninstituted the ordinance, even before his death was accomplished;\nand he assigns his reason for so doing: 'And as they were eating,\nJesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the\ndisciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And he took the\ncup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of\nit; for this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for\nmany for the remission of sins' (Matt. xxvi. 26-28). Immediately\nafter his death, we find, by consulting the Acts, that his disciples\npartook of it in obedience to his authority, and for the purpose\nwhich he specified. The apostle Paul tells us that he had a special\nrevelation from heaven in relation to it (1 Cor. xi. 23, 26). And\nthis ordinance, instituted by Jesus Christ, and observed by all the\nprimitive disciples, is handed down to us as a standing memorial of\nthe wonderful fact that Christ died for our sins, according to the\nScriptures.\"\n\n\"Yes, I see. Then this ordinance stands like a monument erected\nat the time when the event occurred, to commemorate it, and to\nperpetuate the remembrance of it?\"\n\n\"It does.\"\n\n\"Then as people are not so foolish as to erect monuments to\ncommemorate what never took place, the historic certainty of the\ndeath of Jesus Christ receives an indisputable confirmation from the\nperpetual celebration of the Lord's Supper?\"\n\n\"Exactly so.\"\n\n\"This is a new idea to me, and an important one. Then I must\ndisapprove of the conduct of Friends, who have not merely defaced\nthis monumental pillar of the Christian faith, but entirely removed\nit. Why, the removal of a landmark is more like the work of an\nenemy, who has an interest in destroying boundary lines, than the\nwork of a friend, who has an interest in preserving them. I wonder\nthat Joseph Gurney did not see this.\"\n\n\"But this ordinance does something more than perpetuate a\nremembrance of the historic fact of the death of Jesus Christ:\nit is significant of its moral design. When he gave the cup of\nwine to his disciples, and commanded them to drink of it, he\nadded, as explanatory of the purpose which he had in view by this\narrangement--'For this is my blood of the new testament, which is\nshed for many for the remission of sins' (Matt. xxvi. 28).\"\n\n\"Yes, I see it is this that attaches supreme importance to the\nordinance, which would become an unmeaning ceremony if we exclude\nthe atonement from our theory of belief.\"\n\n\"Very true. The historic fact, and its moral design, are inseparably\nblended; and the truthfulness of both is confirmed by the same\nceremonial rite. When our Lord had supped, he took the cup, saying\nto his disciples, 'This cup is the new testament in my blood: this\ndo ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as\nye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord's death\ntill he come' (1 Cor. xi. 25, 26).\"\n\n\"I am quite satisfied that the ordinance should be received by\nthe disciples of Christ, in obedience to his authority, when they\nbelieve that they are his disciples. And I must say, that I think\nthe Friends are wrong in rejecting it as an obsolete ceremony. By\ndoing so, they remove an ancient landmark.\"\n\n\"It is worse than that,\" said Miss Chester; \"it is destroying an\nancient monument which was designed to perpetuate, as long as time\nshall last, a remembrance of the great event it was erected to\ncelebrate.\"\n\n\"Do you,\" said Miss Osbourne, \"administer the Lord's Supper\nindiscriminately to persons in general, or do you restrict its\nadministration to the decidedly pious?\"\n\n\"Amongst us Dissenters it is a test of character; none are permitted\nto partake of it, unless they profess repentance towards God, and\nfaith in the Lord Jesus Christ; and, at the same time, give some\npractical proof that they are renewed, and walk worthy of the\nvocation wherewith they are called.\"\n\n\"What is called open communion prevails, I believe, in the National\nEstablishment.\"\n\n\"It does. The clergyman of our national church is the minister of\nthe parish in which he officiates, and he baptizes all children\nwhose parents wish him to do it; and unless they should be\nexcommunicated, which is rarely done, they are treated as members\nof the church, and have the right of access to the sacrament of the\nLord's Supper.\"\n\n\"Indeed! What! are any immoral persons ever permitted by a clergyman\nto partake of the Lord's Supper? I should judge from what I read in\nthe New Testament, that it belongs exclusively to true believers in\nChrist.\"\n\n\"Yes; in National Establishments, all the varieties of the human\ncharacter, from the most pious to the most profane, may be seen\nmingling together at the sacramental table.\"\n\n\"Indeed! this must be a perversion of the ordinance. The apostles,\nif I recollect rightly, required repentance towards God, and faith\nin the Lord Jesus Christ, as essential qualifications for admission\ninto the church; and if any member walked disorderly, he was\nseparated from Christian fellowship.\"\n\n\"It is so amongst us Dissenters. We do not profess to have a perfect\nchurch, but we do not suffer any one to remain in membership with\nus who dishonours his profession by any known act of impiety or\nimmorality.\"\n\n\"That seems to me to be adhering to the rule of the Scripture.\"\n\n\"To that rule we should always adhere; and hence it is obligatory\non all to observe the ordinance who are trusting in Christ for\nsalvation. They should do so, as a visible expression of their\nsubjection to his authority, and of their gratitude and love to\nhim for his marvellous loving-kindness in shedding his blood for\nthe remission of their sins, and for giving his life a ransom for\ntheir redemption. I recently heard an esteemed minister deliver the\nfollowing address, just before the administration of the ordinance:--\n\n\"'We are now, my dear Christian brethren, going to commemorate the\ndeath of a beloved Friend, whose friendship derives its value from\nhis death. We often muse with intense interest on the wondrous\nevents of his wondrous life; we repeat to each other, with strong\nemotions of delight, his soul-inspiring sayings. But it is his\ndeath which enkindles the purest, the most powerful, and the most\njoyous emotions of our heart. It is true, he was crucified by wicked\nhands, but crucifixion touched no vital part. He could have lived on\nthe cross as long as he pleased, free from pain, and with as much\nplacid ease as, when seated on the mountain side, he dictated the\nbeatitudes to his disciples. He could have stepped down from the\ncross, had he pleased, and arrayed himself with as much celestial\nbeauty as when he stood transfigured on Tabor; and he could have\nchanged in a moment the humiliating and conflicting scene of Calvary\ninto the awful grandeur of the final judgment; and at his bidding\nthe trumpet would have awakened the dead, to stand before him for\ntheir final sentence. But no. Such prodigies of power, and displays\nof justice were not to take place then and there. The only event\nto take place then and there was his shedding his blood for the\nremission of sins, and his giving his life a ransom for sinners.\nThis he did, unsolicited, voluntarily, and cheerfully; and when he\ncalls on you to take the cup, in remembrance of his sufferings and\ndeath, will you hesitate to do so? or can you do it with formal\nindifference?\n\n    'O for this love, let rocks and hills\n      Their lasting silence break,\n    And all harmonious human tongues\n      The Saviour's praises speak.'\"\n\n\"I like the sentiments and expressions of this address; but I think\nyou must admit that hesitation does not always bespeak reluctance.\"\n\n\"Very true; but it arrests the progress of obedience, and entails\nthe loss of spiritual privileges and enjoyments.\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear Miss Osbourne,\" said Miss Chester, \"you now feel no\nreluctance to yield obedience to the dying command of your beloved\nSaviour and Friend; and that you will, by one sacred resolve, yield\nyourself to him as one alive from the dead--have your fruit unto\nholiness, and the end everlasting life.\"\n\n\"A sublime termination to a painful, and often a depressing\nconflict! It would be wrong in me not to confess that I have derived\ninstruction from the conversation of the evening. Some new ideas\nhave been suggested to me, and some lingering doubts have been\nremoved. My hesitation, which sprang from caution, rather than\nreluctance, now yields to a sense of duty. I will do what my Lord\ncommands me; and because it is his command. You will both pray\nfor me, that my faith fail not, and that I may endure to the end,\nsteadfast in the path of duty.\"\n\nShe kept her promise; and on the first communion day, with us\ncommemorated the death of the Lord Jesus Christ in the way of his\nappointment. Soon after, I received an interesting letter from her;\nand as its conclusion is an appropriate sequel to the long and\npainful conflict through which she had to pass, its transcription\nmay serve as a guide and solace to others.\n\n    \"'O, happy day, that fixed my choice\n      On Christ, my Saviour and my God!\n\n         *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *\n\n     Now rests my long-divided heart.'\n\n\"My experience proves the truthfulness of a remark you made in our\nrecent interview 'obedience brings its own reward.'\"\n\nThose who have been early initiated into the Christian faith,\nand who have advanced, under judicious training, from one stage\nof inquiry and attainment to another, till they have acquired a\nperfect knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus, both in its\nunity and harmony, and who have felt it on their hearts, in the\nspirituality of its power, can form no just conception of the severe\nand often prolonged conflict to which others are subjected, who\nhave not been favoured with similar advantages. They are in a moral\ncondition somewhat analogous to that of the lonely traveller who,\nwhen on a strange road, is suddenly enveloped in a mist--hearing\nsounds of danger, while unable to discover from whence they come,\nwhy they are given, or how he shall effect his escape. Their mind\ngets bewildered, jaded, and paralyzed by its own fruitless labours\nand solicitudes; becomes irresolute, unwilling to relinquish the\nquestion of inquiry, yet unable to pursue it; and like the maniac\namongst the tombs, seeks for rest, but cannot find it. The secret\nof relief to all such anxious inquirers, lies imbedded in the\ninvitation of Jesus Christ: \"Come unto me, all ye that labour and\nare heavy laden, and I will give you rest\" (Matt. xi. 28). This\ninvitation has ministered consolation to myriads; its efficacy now,\nis as powerful as it was when it first fell from his lips; and\nwhosoever receives it in faith, and yields to it, will find rest to\nhis soul.\n\n\n\n\nAN ESCAPE FROM A FALSE REFUGE.\n\n\nWhen surveying my congregation one Sabbath evening, I noticed an\ninteresting stranger in the front gallery, whose manner indicated\nthat he had never been in the chapel before. I had selected for\nmy text Isa. lvii. 18: \"_I have seen his ways, and will heal him;\nI will lead him also, and restore comforts unto him, and to his\nmourners_.\" As he sat just opposite the pulpit my eye caught his,\nwhen delivering the following introductory remarks:--\n\n\"No one can read the Bible with serious attention, without feeling\nthat he is brought into contact with God. While intently fixed on\nthe subject which engages his attention, he feels isolated from\nothers--existing apart from others, yet existing in immediate\nconnection with God and the eternal world. The same novel effect\nis sometimes produced, and often to a greater degree, when a\ncongregation is attentively listening to the ministrations of the\npulpit. People are drawn together into a place of worship: the\nreading, the singing, and the prayer are gone through; and then\nthe preaching commences. The preacher is known, but he is soon\nlost sight of; his subject absorbs attention, excites emotion;\nimpression succeeds impression; and though, in some instances, there\nmay be a momentary degree of astonishment awakened as to the source\nfrom whence the preacher has obtained his knowledge of individual\ncharacter, yet that astonishment soon subsides, and nothing is left\nto engross the attention of the hearer, but an overwhelming sense\nof his own guilt, misery, and danger, which is now discovered,\nand felt, FOR THE FIRST TIME. Yes, many a person has entered this\nchapel to scorn, who has left it to breathe the prayer of the\npublican--'God be merciful to me a sinner.' Yes, many a person has\ntaken his seat with others, and by being blended with the mass\nof the congregation, has seemed to lose the individuality of his\nexistence; but the high and lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity,\nwhose name is Holy, speaks--and though his voice is not heard, it\nis felt--'I have seen his ways.' Yes, O sinner, he has seen your\nways in the gone-by times of your impenitence, when you were living\nwithout him, and without hope in the world. Yes, he has seen your\nways, when you either neglected the ordinances of religion, or\nobserved them with careless indifference, as though they bore no\nrelation to the Holy One, who inhabiteth eternity. Yes, he has seen\nthe ways you have adopted to obliterate your religious impressions;\nto pacify your consciences; and to reconcile your habits of gaiety\nand folly, with a sense of your obligations to him. But he has never\nyet seen you walking in the narrow way that leadeth to eternal\nlife. He has never seen you at his footstool deploring the error\nof your ways, and praying for mercy. Shall he abandon you to your\nirreligious course, and leave you to perish? or shall he come to\nheal you, to guide you, and to comfort you?\"\n\nHis attention was arrested; he looked and listened as though he had\nnever previously seen a minister in a pulpit, or heard a sermon;\nand on his countenance there was impressed an air of expressive\nsolemnity, indicating profound thought.\n\nI saw him again on the next Sabbath evening, then I missed him\nfor several Sabbaths; he again re-appeared, became more frequent\nin his attendance, and at length I saw him walking up the area of\nthe chapel accompanied by a lady, whom I presumed to be his wife.\nOn this occasion he was invited into a pew belonging to one of\nmy elders; and at the close of the service they left the chapel\ntogether. On inquiry I found that this elder knew him; and from him\nI obtained the outlines of his history, which he prefaced by saying,\n\"I was not at the chapel on the first night of his attendance,\nand was rather surprised when he told me of it, because I rather\napprehend he is a sceptic, though he does not avow it. However,\nthough he gave me no reason to expect that he should repeat his\nvisit, he made one remark which I was gratified to hear, as it\nwas a proof that he had listened to the discourse, and was rather\npleased than otherwise. 'The sermon,' he said, 'was simple and\nplain, yet somewhat original. I have heard more eloquent, and more\nargumentative discourses, both in my own country, and in England,\nbut I never heard one which took such a firm hold of my attention,\nor one which brought after it such a train of novel thought; indeed,\nI cannot escape from a recollection of it.'\"\n\nMr. Christopher Lobeck, the gentleman in question, was born in\nBerlin, in 1794. His parents were Protestants, with whom he lived\ntill he had finished his literary education; and then he travelled\nfor two years, visiting Spain, France, and Switzerland, and the\nprincipal manufacturing districts and marts of commerce of his own\ncountry, to qualify himself to engage in mercantile pursuits. Soon\nafter the termination of the war in 1815, he was introduced to an\nEnglish merchant, with whom he made an arrangement to serve his\nestablishment in the capacity of a corresponding clerk; and this\nled to his settlement in London. While in this situation, which he\nheld for seven years, he married the daughter of a citizen of worth\nand distinction; and by his advice, and with the concurrence of the\nhouse in which he had been engaged, he accepted an eligible offer of\npartnership in a firm of high respectability in ----, to which place\nhe removed in 1822. His private residence was situated about a mile\nand a half from the centre of the town, a neat snug cottage, with\nthe usual appurtenances, &c., &c. \"He is,\" the elder added, \"both\nintelligent and communicative, and has acquired a large amount of\nscientific and general information; and notwithstanding his doubts\non the great question of the Christian faith, he generally attends\nchurch on Sabbath morning with his wife and children. Mrs. Lobeck\nis a contrast to her husband on religious matters; he looks with\nequal indifference on all the external forms of Christianity--she is\none of the most impassioned admirers of Episcopacy and its clergy I\never knew. She is, in fact, what may be termed a devotee--excited,\nas by an electrical shock, if she hear any remark derogatory to\nthe absolute perfection of her church and its priestly orders.\" He\nconcluded by saying, \"I think you should now go and see them; as\nthey have both been to hear you preach, I think it likely they will\nbe expecting it as an act of courtesy. It is possible that this may\nbe the opening of a new epoch in their moral history, which may lead\nto some grand spiritual result.\"\n\nI made a call, and was gratified by my reception. Mr. Lobeck was\nvery cordial, and Mrs. Lobeck very polite; he was free and easy\nin chit-chat, but she was rather reserved; yet both seemed to\nbe pleased by my visit. After looking through his museum, which\ncontained a choice though not very extensive collection of birds,\nreptiles, and fossils, a few coins of different ages and countries,\nand a good assortment of autographs, I then strolled round his\ngarden and shrubbery, and took my leave of them--both equally\npressing for a more lengthened visit. Their attendance at the chapel\nnow became more regular on a Sabbath evening, and occasionally on a\nSabbath morning; and after the lapse of a few weeks, I met a select\ntea-party at their house, and though nearly all were strangers\nto me, and most of them high church, yet I spent a very pleasant\nevening. No controversial subject was introduced for debate or\ndiscussion; conversation was desultory, without being frivolous,\nand was sustained without being prosy, or degenerating into dry\ncommon-place. Having intimated to Mr. Lobeck that it was my usual\nhabit to conduct family prayer where I spent an evening, the Bible\nwas presented to me; I read Psalm ciii., offering a few expository\nremarks, and then we knelt together at the throne of grace.\n\nAt a subsequent interview, when Mr. Lobeck called on me, he said,\n\"We have decided on attending your chapel if we can be accommodated\nwith a pew.\" On expressing some degree of surprise that Mrs. Lobeck\nshould be willing to leave her church, with all its long-cherished\npredilections and associations, he replied--\n\n\"She still gives it the preference, but a paramount sense of duty\nnow compels her to take this step. She was pleased with the extreme\nsimplicity of your mode of worship the first time she came; and has\non several occasions expressed her approbation of the momentous\ntruths you have inculcated on the attention of your audience; but\nyour discourse on Sabbath evening, from Acts xvi. 14, brought her\nlong-hesitating mind to this decision. As we were returning home,\nafter alluding to the hymn, and to the singing, which she very much\nenjoys, she remarked she now felt no surprise that I should prefer\nthe preaching at the chapel to the preaching at the church; because,\nin her opinion, it is more interesting and instructive. 'It is,' she\nadded, 'quite a relief to hear no more prosing about the regular\nsuccession question, or about the font and its mysteries. This\nclergyman makes one think of one's self, of God, of another world,\nand our Saviour Jesus Christ.'\"\n\nAs they were now become my stated hearers, a close intimacy soon\nsprang up between us; and on one occasion, when alluding to\nthe state of religion on the Continent, he said, with emphatic\nearnestness, \"My country, Sir, is the land of spiritual barrenness;\ndeath reigns there. Infidelity is awfully dominant, and fatally\npowerful.\"\n\n\"But I have heard it now assumes an aspect somewhat different from\nthe infidelity introduced by Voltaire, and which I believe was aided\nin its progress by the more fascinating genius of Rousseau.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, it is now the infidelity of Goethe, a man of\nextraordinary mental power--a most subtle and beguiling writer.\nVoltaire was an _intellectual_ sceptic, who denounced Christianity\nas an imposition on human credulity, and he advocated its\nsuppression and extermination. Rousseau was a _sentimental_ sceptic,\nwho contemplated Christianity with the same class of emotions as\nhe surveyed the beauties and the deformities of nature; regarding\nit as a strange compound of moral grandeur and of meanness, which,\nin his estimation, might remain amongst a people without doing any\nsocial injury, and might be got rid of without their sustaining\nany irreparable loss. Goethe is a _rational_ sceptic, or what is\ncalled in Germany a rationalist. His disposition is not mocking like\nthat of Voltaire and others, nor does he ever indulge in burlesque\nor ridicule, when speaking of the popular faith. He uniformly\nevinces a marked respect for the ordinary doctrines and ethics of\nChristianity, while the drift of his writings is to prove that the\nreal religion of a man's heart, and the real end of his existence,\nlie in the refined cultivation of his mind and affections, and in\nsubjecting all irregular impulses and passions to a course of due\nrestraint.\"\n\n\"The infidelity of these sceptical writers who have done so much\nmischief on the Continent, and in England too, is substantially the\nsame in its origin, in its essence, and in its tendencies, though\nthere is a slight variation in its phases, its developments, and in\nits designs.\"\n\n\"Infidelity, Sir, under any phase, or in any form of development, is\na destroying power; and its progress may be traced, like that of an\nepidemic, by the scenes of desolation which it leaves in its track.\nThere would be some difficulty in adjusting the comparative injury\nwhich these distinguished sceptics have entailed on the moral and\nreligious world; but it is very evident to any one who studies their\nwritings, that they all tend to the same issue. The primary lessons\nwhich they all teach are these--that man needs no Divine instructor,\nwhich supersedes the necessity of revelation; that his own reason is\nsufficient to enable him to discover the safe road to true happiness\nand moral greatness, which supersedes the necessity of priestly\ninstruction and training; and that he need do nothing more for his\npresent well-being, and his future destiny, if there be a futurity,\nthan cultivate his own tastes and social virtues.\"\n\n\"But I suppose Goethe has done more moral injury amongst the\ntheologians of Germany than any other sceptical writer.\"\n\n\"I have no doubt of it; and also amongst all classes of literary\nmen. I was once one of his devoted disciples; he ruled my mind\nwith despotic sway. I revered him as an oracle. He stood, in my\nestimation, both in intellectual greatness and in the accuracy of\nhis moral discoveries, far above any of the writers of the Old or\nNew Testaments. He gave me a distaste for the Bible, and a loathing\nagainst its sublime and momentous doctrines; and I believe that\nhis writings have tainted to a fearful extent the theology of the\npulpits of Germany. There are a few able and eloquent men, who\npreach Christ and him crucified, in close imitation of Paul; but\nonly a comparatively small number. Human reason is the popular\nidol amongst the majority; they keep the cross of Christ in the\nbackground; the atonement is repudiated by them. They maintain\nfrom the press and from the pulpit, and with as much strenuous\nearnestness as any of the infidel fraternity, that man has within\nhimself a self-sufficient power to secure his present and his future\nhappiness, without being at all dependent on the grace of God or the\nlove of Christ.\"\n\n\"A sad change since the palmy days of Luther, and the other great\nReformers.\"\n\n\"A most melancholy one; I should not like to return to live amidst\nsuch signs of decay and scenes of moral desolation--it is as Eden in\nruins.\"\n\n\"Your removal, Sir, to England has proved a very important event in\nyour history.\"\n\n\"It has indeed; a local change often leads to many other changes.\nIf I had tarried in Berlin, I had not known my wife or had my three\ndear children; and most likely I should still have remained a\ndisciple of Goethe, rather than become a disciple of Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"Will you permit me to ask you one question, What circumstance\ninduced you to come to the chapel the first time you came?\"\n\n\"Your question, Sir, revives in my recollection a proposition which\nyou illustrated by a series of facts, when delivering a discourse on\nJohn iv. 6, 7, and which, if my memory does not fail me, you stated\nin the following words:--'When a crisis approaches in the history of\na nation, or even of a private individual, we may sometimes observe\nprognostic signs of its coming; and in taking a review after its\noccurrence, we may sometimes see a marked conjunction of determining\nevents naturally leading to it.' The fact is, on the Sunday of my\nfirst visit to your chapel, we had arranged with a few friends to\ntake a drive into the country; but just as we were in readiness\nto start, a tremendous thunderstorm compelled us to give up our\njaunt. After it had cleared off, as it was too late for our country\nexcursion, I took a walk into the town to see an old friend; but\nthe rain again came down in torrents, just as I was passing your\nchapel; I ran into it for shelter, not for worship. I had no more\nthought of being converted to the faith of Christ when I entered\nyour chapel, than the woman of Samaria expected to see the Messias\nwhen she left home to get some water from Jacob's well.\"\n\n\"The Psalmist, when calling on all the powers of the celestial and\nterrestrial creation to praise the Lord (Psal. cxlviii.), speaks of\nfire and hail, of snow and vapour, and stormy wind as fulfilling the\nDivine purpose; they come and go at his command, doing the work he\nassigns to them.\"\n\n\"So I _now_ believe. I recollect, when watching the coming up of\nthe dark thunderstorm, feeling vexed that it should come just then,\nwhen we were all in such high glee, and in complete readiness to\nbe off. I did not then know that on that storm my future destiny\nwas depending. Had it not come when it did come, we should have\nbeen desecrating the Sabbath by recreative indulgence; and had it\nnot been followed by the second storm, I should have been with my\nfriend enjoying the convivialities of hospitality and mirth. In\neither case, when laying my head on my pillow, on that memorable\nnight, my bosom would have heaved to other emotions than those which\nyour discourse had stirred up within it. There and then I felt what\nI never expected to feel; and if the strange commotion had been\npredicted by an angel of God, I should have ridiculed it as a mere\nphantom. Indeed, my philosophy, which led me to believe that such\na moral change as I have experienced was unnecessary, compelled me\nalso to believe that it was impossible.\"\n\n\"I recollect the text from which I preached on the occasion to which\nyou refer, but I do not recollect employing any arguments to expose\nthe fallacy and delusions of scepticism, or any in confirmation of\nthe Divine origin of the Christian faith.\"\n\n\"Argument, Sir, in favour of Christianity I could have withstood;\nbut I could not withstand the great moral power by which I felt\nawe-struck and subdued.\"\n\n\"Do you think you were renewed in the spirit of your mind during the\nfirst service you attended at the chapel?\"\n\n\"I know I felt very differently when I came out of the chapel that\nevening, from what I felt on entering; but whether I then actually\npassed from a state of spiritual death to newness of life, is a\nquestion I cannot decide. But now I can say what Paul said--By the\ngrace of God I am what I am.\"\n\n\"Do you ever doubt the reality of the spiritual change which you\nhave undergone?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, that's impossible. I know that I was once living in a\nstate of spiritual death, or mental alienation from God, neither\nloving nor fearing him--living without him in the world; but it's\nthe reverse of this now. I now revere him as my sovereign, whose\nlaws are my delight; and I now love him as my reconciled Father\nthrough Jesus Christ. All through life, up to my first visit to\nyour chapel, the invisible world flitted before my imagination,\nmore as a fairy land than a real world of spiritual beings; and the\nimmortality of man I considered more a thing of speculation than of\npositive certainty; but now I am compelled to believe, and by the\nforce of evidence which sophistry cannot falsify, that it is the\nhabitation of the high and lofty One whose name is Holy, and before\nwhom I hope to be presented faultless with exceeding joy when the\ncrisis comes.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, does your old philosophy never suggest to you the idea\nthat these new discoveries and emotions, with their consequent\nanticipations, may be referable to the mysterious action of\na disturbed imagination, rather than the direct action of a\nsupernatural power--what scepticism designates the flights of fancy?\"\n\n\"I must confess that such an idea has more than once obtruded itself\non my mind; but I at once dismiss it as an intangible fiction; for\nwhen I turned my attention to study the Christianity of the Bible,\nwhich I did very closely as soon as I felt the new impulse from your\nfirst sermon, I perceived that it not only offers remission of sin\nto the penitent and contrite sinner, but that it is essentially a\nrestorative scheme of grace, constructed for the very purpose of\nrescuing man from the moral ruin in which sin has involved him, and\nultimately to re-produce that spiritual similitude to the Divine\nlikeness in which man was created, and which would still have\nadorned humanity, if the first transgression had not been committed.\nHence the discoveries and emotions I have made and felt, and the\nconflicts through which I am now passing, are the initiate of this\ngrand design of the high and lofty One--the preparatory steps in the\nprogress of recovery, which is to lead to such a glorious issue.\"\n\n\"Have you, Sir, any distinct recollection of the order of thought\nwhich followed--the unanticipated impressions and emotions which you\nfelt while listening to the sermon?\"\n\n\"I recollect saying to myself, when passing home--I have heard many\nsermons in my own country, and many in England, more elaborate, more\nargumentative, and more brilliant; and yet no one ever produced such\na series of novel and strange convictions and impressions as this\nsimple and plain appeal to which I have been listening. Myself, my\nmoral condition and danger, now absorbed my attention: I felt, and\nfor the first time in my history, that I had been living without\nGod--living the life of a practical atheist--that I deserved his\nanger, and that he might justly leave me to perish.\"\n\n\"Did you entertain any idea that this new moral discovery would lead\nto an eventful issue; or did you suppose it would vanish away, and\nleave you to live as in former years?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, I felt that the discovery I had made was no mental\nillusion, but a palpable and awful reality; and though it excited\nemotions of alarm and terror which I could scarcely endure, yet I\nfelt more inclined to cherish than repress them; and at times during\nthe ensuing week, I did indulge a vague hope that God would have\nmercy on me and comfort me.\"\n\n\"Did you tell Mrs. Lobeck where you had been, and what you felt?\"\n\n\"No, Sir. I deemed it inexpedient to do that; because I knew it\nwould distress her to hear that I had been to a Dissenting chapel.\nBut there were other considerations which imposed silence. I knew\nnot what opinion to form of the issue of the mental process through\nwhich I was passing. I thought it might bring on some change in\nmy moral character and history; and I also thought it might end in\nnothing. I therefore resolved, while in this state of perplexity and\nconfusion, not to say anything to any one on the subject, till I\nactually knew the result.\"\n\n\"Did you remain long in this state of mental perplexity and\ndistraction?\"\n\n\"For several months, during which time I accompanied my family to\nour church every Sabbath morning, and very generally I was at your\nchapel in the evening. I perceived that the religion of the two\nplaces is the same in its broad outlines; yet I soon discovered a\ngreat difference, not only in its impressiveness, but even in the\ndoctrines of its public ministrations.\"\n\n\"The Rector and his Curate, I believe, dwell principally on the\nefficacy of the sacraments, and the absolute necessity of a steady\nadherence to the church, as an implied condition of salvation.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir: they virtually reject what many of our Protestant\nministers in Germany openly repudiate--the inherent depravity of\nman, the atonement for sin made by Jesus Christ, and the necessity\nof the agency of the Divine Spirit to enlighten and renovate the\nsoul of man. In fact, they adopt the leading principle of Goethe's\nphilosophy, and place our hope of future happiness on our doings\nand attainments. Goethe and his disciples work the principle\nwithout the alliance of any auxiliary powers or influences; but the\nclergymen of our church identify it with ecclesiastic ceremonies and\nassociations. In either case, it is man doing something for himself\nwhich makes him his own saviour.\"\n\n\"I often wonder how it is that intelligent persons, who admit the\nauthority of the Bible, can make such egregious mistakes as they\noften do on the question which relates to the way of salvation, or\nthe method of a sinner's reconciliation with God; when it is stated\nwith so much explicitness and precision by the sacred writers,\n'Believe and be saved.' 'For through him we both have access by one\nSpirit unto the Father' (Ephes. ii. 18).\"\n\n\"The terms are very explicit and simple--believe and be saved: but\njudging from my own experience, I should say they are very difficult\nof apprehension, and for this reason, we cannot trace a connection\nbetween such an action of the mind and such a glorious result.\"\n\n\"Nor, Sir, are we required to do so: we are to rest our belief on\nChrist and his promise, and then expect the issue.\"\n\n\"The discourse, Sir, which you delivered some time since on John\niii. 14, 15, set my mind at rest on this simple and important\nquestion. You sketched the scene in the camp of Israel--the people\ndying under the judicial infliction; and when representing one and\nanother, on moving out of their tents, feeling an instantaneous cure\nwhen they looked on the elevated brazen serpent, the scales fell\nfrom my mental vision, and I saw clearly, through the medium of this\nillustrative fact, that it is by faith in the death of Jesus Christ\nthat we are to be saved. I shall never forget the effect which this\ndiscovery excited within me. I felt joy and peace in believing. The\ncloud of obscurity which had hung so long over the sacred page, and\nover the spiritual parts of your ministrations, instantaneously\nvanished; and I saw THE _truth_ in its clearness, because I again\nfelt it in its power. I hastened home under an impulse of emotion\nwhich I know not how to describe; and as soon as I saw Mrs. Lobeck,\nI disclosed the long pent-up secrets of my heart. She listened to\nmy communications with intense interest; and after offering me\nher congratulations on my escape from the snares and delusions\nof my sceptical philosophy, she then added, what both surprised\nand delighted me to hear--'I will very willingly go with you on a\nSabbath evening, where you have received so much spiritual good, if\nyou will continue to go with us to church on a Sabbath morning.' I\nat once consented to this proposal, and we continued for many months\nto alternate an attendance at the two churches, till at length she\ncame to the decision which I have mentioned. We are now one in\nspirit, and I hope one in faith; but I regret to say that at times\nshe feels a mental depression which I know not how to account for,\nnor can I remove it.\"\n\nMrs. Lobeck was a truly interesting person--as genteel in her\nmanners, as she was amiable in her disposition; and as our intimacy\nincreased, she gradually threw off her constitutional reserve, and\nbecame more free and communicative. She was naturally more buoyant\nin spirits than her husband, yet there was an expression of grief\nin her countenance which excited my sympathy, and I felt desirous\nof ascertaining the cause of it. She had been, from her youth up, a\nmost rigid devotee of ecclesiastical formalism; no Puseyite could be\nmore scrupulous in observing the times and seasons and ceremonies\nof his church. I knew, from many incidental allusions, that she\nhad idolized her Prayer Book, which led her to neglect her Bible;\nand this made me suspect that she was still placing some undue\ndependence on ecclesiastic ceremonies. I had preached a sermon on\nthe eunuch going on his way rejoicing (Acts viii. 39), to which she\nmade a reference when I was spending an evening with her.\n\n\"To be candid, Sir, it is not with me as it was with the eunuch;\nfor I am not quite so easy in my mind now, as I was before I left\nthe church; sometimes I think I must return, though I should regret\ndepriving myself of the benefit I derive from your ministry.\"\n\n\"You do not feel quite so much at ease in your mind now, as you did\nwhen attending to your long established religious customs?\"\n\n\"I do not. Indeed, I feel at times quite unhappy.\"\n\n\"Were you quite happy when you were attending to your religious\nduties. Did you habitually feel that you were prepared for death;\nthat is, were you assured that your sins were forgiven, and that you\nwould go to heaven when you died?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, I was never perfectly happy, because I was not quite\nassured that I should go to heaven, but I always thought that if\nI continued to the end in the religious course in which I had\nbeen trained, the Almighty would take me to himself. I recollect\nmentioning to our Rector the fears which I occasionally had on this\nsubject, when he quoted a passage from the Bible which gave me much\ncomfort, '_He that endureth to the end shall be saved_.' I now feel\nthat I am failing in this duty, which makes me unhappy.\"\n\n\"Did you, when practising your religious duties, think much about\nJesus Christ, and much about coming to him by faith, to save you?\nDid you ever feel that you loved him?\"\n\n\"I always thought he was our Saviour, but I have thought more about\nhim lately than I used to think. Your preaching puts some new ideas\ninto my mind about Jesus Christ, but they soon pass away. I cannot\nretain them, because I do not clearly understand them.\"\n\n\"If I do not mistake, you cherished a hope that the Almighty\nwould save you, because you were regular and conscientious in the\nobservance of your religious duties?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, I did. Was I doing wrong by doing this?\"\n\n\"You will see presently. In consequence of having left the church,\nyou cannot now attend, with the uniformity of former times, to the\nsame order of duties; and therefore you cannot now indulge the hope\nthat the Almighty will save you. And this depresses your spirits and\nmakes you feel unhappy.\"\n\n\"It does, and very painfully so. I think I have forfeited the\nblessing, because I am not enduring to the end.\"\n\n\"You say you always thought that Jesus Christ was our Saviour; but\ndo you not perceive, that as long as you indulged the hope of being\nsaved in consequence of your scrupulous and constant attention to\nyour religious duties, you were expecting to be saved without being\nindebted to him for your salvation? If you had succeeded, you would\nhave got into heaven without his help; how then could he be your\nSaviour?\"\n\n\"Then, Sir, was I doing wrong by placing my hope of being saved on\nmy religious life and practice?\"\n\n\"You were living under the spell of a common, but fatal delusion.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Sir! Such an idea has struck me, more than once, when I\nhave been listening to your discourses; but it has passed from me; I\ncould not entertain it, it is too horrifying.\"\n\n\"If, my dear Madam, to live under the spell of a fatal delusion be\nhorrifying, what must it be to die under one--to pass away from\nearth, expecting to go to heaven, and when disembodied and alone, to\nbe left to sink into hell!\"\n\n\"But, Sir, if a person be sincere and constant in his religious\nduties--if he endure in them to the end of life, do you think the\nAlmighty will suffer him to die under such a delusive expectation as\nthat? The thought of it is truly painful. It makes me shudder.\"\n\n\"Allow me to call your attention to the following passage, which is\na quotation from the words of Jesus Christ, the faithful and true\nWitness--'Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter\ninto the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father\nwhich is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord,\nhave we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out\ndevils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I\nprofess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work\niniquity' (Matt. vii. 21-23).\"\n\n\"How awful! Their doom is the reverse of what they expected. This\npassage is conclusive; delusion is possible, and it sometimes proves\nfatal. The question is, How can it be detected before the discovery\ncomes too late for correction? I feel confused.\"\n\n\"Did you often pray to be kept from self-delusion, during the time\nyou were engaged in your religious duties?\"\n\n\"I always used my prayers twice a-day, morning and evening; and on\nsome special days I used them more frequently. When travelling, or\nwhen we had visitors at our house, I sometimes neglected them, but\nthen I always did double duty the next day, or as soon after as\npossible. But I don't recollect that I have any prayer which refers\nespecially to self-delusion. Such an idea I never entertained. The\nidea is quite new to me.\"\n\n\"Then you merely read your prayers; you did not pray?\"\n\n\"Why, Sir, is not that praying? I am quite sure that I was sincere\nwhen I was doing it, and I always felt a pleasure when I had done\nit.\"\n\n\"The apostle Paul, even when he was an enemy to Christ, and when\npersecuting the disciples of Christ, even to bonds, imprisonment,\nand death, was very devout and zealous in all his religious duties;\nas touching the righteousness of the law, that is, the duties of the\nceremonial law, he says he was blameless. He said his prayers, or\nhe read them; but it was not till after his conversion that Jesus\nChrist said of him, '_Behold he prayeth_' (Acts ix. 11).\"\n\n\"The subject of our conversation is somewhat alarming. It agitates\nme. It will increase the depression of my spirits. I shall feel\nquite unhappy. I see nothing before me now but real danger, I may\nsay awful danger. What can I do now?\"\n\n\"The prophet says, 'Then shall we know, if we follow on to know\nthe Lord' (Hosea vi. 3). In nature there is progression, and so in\ngrace. The light shines brighter and brighter from the faint dawn\nto the clear meridian. This is an emblem. You will find Scripture\ntruth come out of its obscurity as you advance in your inquiries\nand researches; and therefore, my dear Madam, you should not yield\nto despondency, but rather give diligence to make your calling and\nelection sure, and if you do this, you will ultimately rejoice in\nhope.\"\n\nSeveral weeks elapsed before I visited her again. I had preached one\nSabbath evening from Luke xv. 2, proving that Jesus Christ takes\nsupreme delight in saving the chief of sinners. I noticed, when\ndelivering the subjoined passage, the fixedness of her look, and\nthe varying aspect of her countenance, indicating both astonishment\nand delight. \"If he saved our men of refined taste and literary\neminence--our great historians and poets--the noble aristocracy of\nour country--our active spirits who go about doing good--persons\nof artistic and professional skill--the heroes and heroines of\nvalour and adventure--many would be more gratified than surprised:\nthis, they would say, is as it ought to be; due respect is paid to\nmind, to moral worth, to rank--the dignity of order is preserved.\nWell, brethren, he will save any of the various orders to whom I\nhave referred; but then they must come out of the fascinations\nand embellishments of their social position, and get into the\nposition of sinners, as he did not come to call the intelligent,\nthe renowned, and the righteous, but he came to _call sinners\nto repentance_; he _seeks_ and _saves_ those and those only who\nfeel that they are lost, and in danger of perishing for ever. _He\nreceiveth sinners_--the chief of sinners--sinners of vulgar habits\nand atrocious crimes--sinners who are shunned by the refined and\nvirtuous, and scowled upon by our sentimental moralists and men of\ntaste; and he saves them--they constitute a large portion of the\npopulation of the celestial world. He receiveth sinners; but on\nwhat terms and conditions? Believe and be saved; believe now, and\nbe saved. You see, my brethren, that sinners are not sent to mend\ntheir ways, before Jesus Christ will save them; they are not sent to\nembellish their character with a few constitutional virtues, before\nhe will save them; they are not sent to learn a creed, or become\nproficients in the art of any ceremonial observances, before he will\nsave them; the soul-stirring proclamation is, 'Look unto me, and be\nye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none\nelse' (Isa. xlv. 22).\"\n\n\"Your discourse, Sir, on Sunday evening, pleased me, but it has\ngreatly perplexed me. It is an inversion of my order of thinking. I\nalways thought that the intelligent and the virtuous were sure to go\nto heaven, but I had my doubts about others.\"\n\n\"They _may be saved_; though their intelligence and attainments\nplace their salvation in great jeopardy. The virtues of some, like\nthe vices of others, militate against them, and often decide the\nfatal issue.\"\n\n\"You greatly alarm and perplex me. As much danger in superior\nintelligence, and superior virtue, as in vulgar ignorance and\noffensive vice!\"\n\n\"Yes, Madam, and sometimes there is more. The Pharisees of the New\nTestament were intelligent persons, and they were also virtuous and\nvery religious; and yet with what fearful solemnity, and in what\nterrific forms of expression, did Jesus Christ denounce and condemn\nthem--'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are\nlike unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward,\nbut are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness. Ye\nserpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation\nof hell?' (Matt. xxiii. 27, 33).\"\n\n\"My dear Sir, you stagger and confound me with alarm.\"\n\n\"You overlook, my dear Madam, one great fact, which is a solution of\nthe perplexity which confounds you.\"\n\n\"And what is that fact?\"\n\n\"_All_ have sinned against God; and as a palpable proof of it, the\nsentence of death has been passed against all. This is a judicial\nsentence, which could not be inflicted unless there was delinquency,\nand consequent guilt. As the apostle says, 'Wherefore, as by one man\nsin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed\nupon all men, for that all have sinned' (Rom. v. 12).\"\n\n\"Then, Sir, am I to understand that all persons--the intelligent\nand the virtuous, and the ignorant and the vicious--are in the same\nmoral condition--all on the same level?\"\n\n\"You see that they are all doomed to death; because they have all\nsinned. The virtue of the most virtuous is no protection against\ndeath.\"\n\n\"True, Sir, but may it not prove a safe passport to heaven?\"\n\n\"In that conception lurks the fatal danger of constitutional virtue,\nwith its fascinating accompaniments of intelligence and mental\nattainments.\"\n\n\"I don't quite apprehend your meaning.\"\n\n\"Don't you perceive, my dear Madam, that by entertaining the\nconception that virtue will prove a safe passport to heaven, you\nsubstitute virtue in the place of Jesus Christ, the Friend of\nsinners; virtue is transformed from a mental quality into a saviour,\nand man saves himself? Now, we know from the infallible testimony\nof the Bible, that none are received from earth into heaven but\n_redeemed_ SINNERS; and all when actually saved, ascribe their\nsalvation to the death and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. 'Unto him\nthat loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and\nhath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be\nglory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen' (Rev. i. 5, 6).\"\n\n\"I am now convinced that I have much to renounce, and much to learn,\nbefore I can become a true Christian. I was taught to believe I was\nregenerated at the font of baptism. This delusion was practised\non me when I was confirmed by the bishop. Why, Sir, I have been\nenveloped in delusion all my life. This is a most painful discovery.\nIt takes me by surprise.\"\n\n\"Had you died under this delusion, you would have been at this\nmoment a lost soul, moving about the dark and terrific world of\nspirits in absolute despair. You ought, my dear friend, to feel\ntruly grateful to the God of all grace and consolation, that you\nhave made the painful discovery before it is too late for rescue and\neffective relief.\"\n\n\"But, Sir, what must I do? I am compelled to leave the false refuge\nin which I have been dreaming of safety; but where shall I find the\ntrue one?\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ receiveth sinners, when they _feel_ that they are\nsinners, and _then_ he will save them.\"\n\n\"I now feel that I need his help; but I do not know how to obtain\nit. My mind, Sir, is distracted--most painfully distracted. I don't\nknow what to do. I see nothing clearly. I feel confused--painfully\nperplexed.\"\n\n\"You can pray, _Lord save me, or I perish_.\"\n\n\"I can offer that prayer, and offer it from the depth of my heart;\nbut will Jesus Christ hear it, and will he answer it?\"\n\n\"He will.\"\n\n\"Then I will try.\"\n\nA few days after this interview I received a note from her,\nrequesting me to make an early call; and when I went, she informed\nme that she had such a dread of delusion, she had made up her mind\nto search the Scriptures, and pursue the investigation till she\nthoroughly understood--quoting an expression she heard me use when\nin the pulpit--the unity, and harmony, and glory of the wonderful\neconomy of redemption. To assist her in her studies, in addition to\nrecommending Dr. Doddridge's _Family Expositor_, I forwarded to her\na copy of Dr. Bates' _Harmony of the Divine Attributes_, giving it\nas my decided opinion, that she would acquire a larger amount of\nprofound and accurate theological knowledge from a careful study of\nit, than from any other book in the English language.\n\nDuring the time she was pursuing her spiritual researches, I deemed\nit expedient to avoid calling on her; but I had the gratification\nof seeing her both punctual and regular in her attendance at public\nworship. There was also a perceptible change in the aspect of\nher countenance; the pensive, and somewhat gloomy impression was\nentirely obliterated; her eye had resumed its native radiance; she\nappeared at ease. After the lapse of several weeks, I renewed my\nvisit, which yielded me an adequate recompense for all my preceding\nsolicitudes.\n\n\"I used, Sir, to read my Prayer Book more than my Bible, which made\nme idolize the church; but then I lightly esteemed Jesus Christ, the\nRock of my salvation. I used to be very fond of the Oxford tracts,\nbut they mystify the truth. They unduly exalt the sacraments,\nand cast a dimming shadow around the cross. They perpetuated the\ndelusions of my early training, and were preparing me, not for\nheaven and happiness, but for Popery and its lying wonders. But,\nSir, in what a state of delusion our clergy are living, and they\ndon't know it; they are deceiving others, and don't know it!\"\n\n\"That is true, Madam--painfully true. A spirit of delusion has come\nforth from the Evil One, and it has alighted on the great majority\nboth of the clergy and laity of the Church of England; and, like\ninsane persons, they are pleased and satisfied with the delusions\nunder which they are living (Mat. xxiii. 13-28).\"\n\n\"They should be warned of their danger; and warned, Sir, before it\nis too late.\"\n\n\"They scorn to heed warning when it is given. They hold fast deceit,\nas though it were the pearl of great price.\"\n\n\"What a wonderful and merciful escape I have had! Yes, Dr. Bates'\n_Harmony_ is a safe antidote to mental delusions. I can now\nunderstand my Bible. I can now understand your preaching. I can now\nunderstand what is included in a favourite expression of yours,\nwhich for a long time so greatly perplexed me, 'The grand economy of\nhuman redemption.'\"\n\n\"And I hope, my dear Madam, you have felt the renovating power of\nDivine truth and grace in your heart; that you have passed from a\nstate of spiritual death to newness of life, and are become a new\ncreature in Christ Jesus; that old things are passed away, and\nbehold all things are become new.\"\n\n\"I certainly feel conscious of some internal spiritual change,\nwhen I compare the present state of my mind with its state some\ntime since; though I sometimes doubt whether it is the spiritual\nregeneration of the soul of which I read so much in my Bible.\"\n\n\"But why do you doubt it? The change has not been produced by\nyourself, but by the grace of God; why, then, do you doubt either\nits reality or the divinity of its origin?\"\n\n\"I do not doubt its reality, but I strongly suspect the divinity of\nits origin; because, after the most minute investigation of what\nhas passed and still passes in my mind, I can discover nothing\nthere but my own thoughts, emotions, desires, and purposes. These I\nfind succeed each other in a natural, _unforced_ order, under the\nguidance and control of my own will; which is as free to choose or\nreject them, as though no superior being were able to control it.\"\n\n\"Accurately to define the exact point where the human will and a\nDivine agency meet in the moral renovation of the soul, or to say\nwhen this mysterious junction takes place, requires a knowledge of\nthe laws of the spiritual world which we can never hope to attain in\nthis imperfect state. Unquestionably, your thoughts and emotions,\nyour desires and purposes, appear to rise spontaneously in your\nmind, and actually succeed each other in a perfectly logical order;\nbut who first sprang this new mine of thought and feeling? and by\nwhat power are these desires and purposes cherished and nurtured in\nyour heart? If you suppose that all originated in the uninfluenced\naction of your own understanding and will, you are reduced to\nthe necessity of denying the scriptural statement of the entire\ndepravity of the human heart.\"\n\n\"That I cannot do; I admit that we are morally dead in relation to\nGod, though we may cherish many of the social virtues in relation to\neach other; and I admit also _that no one knoweth the things of God,\nbut by the Spirit of God_.\"\n\n\"Then you are compelled to admit _his immediate agency_ in imparting\na spiritual discernment; and an inclination also to receive those\ntruths as the source of your most sacred and elevated joy, which\nappear to the natural man either as unnecessary or absurd. His\nSpirit acts, but we see only its effects. All is under his guidance\nand control, yet all appears to be the result of our own thoughts\nand purposes. He leads us in the way in which he would have us\ngo, but his hand is unseen. He takes of the things of Christ and\nshows them to us, while we suppose that we discover them ourselves.\nHe draws us to Jesus Christ, and enables us to depend on him for\nsalvation; but we seem to direct our own steps, and put forth the\nunaided strength of our own mind. Thus the Holy Spirit effects\nour renovation, and makes us willing, in the day of his power, to\ncome to Jesus Christ; while he sees fit to conceal his agency, and\ncondescends, when we are examining ourselves to see whether we are\nin the faith, to bear witness with our spirits that we are the\nchildren of God.\"\n\n\"I thank you, Sir, for this very satisfactory explanation of a\nmental process, of which I have been conscious, while unconscious\nof the concurring power of the Divine Spirit, by whom it has been\nconducted. It reminds me of what the apostle Paul says in one of his\nepistles, which I have often meditated on, but could not clearly\ntill now apprehend his meaning--'For it is God which worketh in you\nboth to will and to do of his good pleasure' (Philip. ii. 13). I\nnow perceive that the volitions and doings are ours, but it is God\nwho works them within us; we have the blessing, and he claims the\nconsequent gratitude and love.\"\n\n\"If, my dear friend, we differ from others, as I trust we do, to\nascribe its origination to ourselves would be to arrogate the glory\nwhich belongs exclusively to God; and though we may sometimes\nsuspect that the difference is not of Divine origin because we are\nnot already perfect, yet I think we cannot fairly doubt its reality\nwhen we are brought into direct intercourse with the unenlightened\nand unrenewed, even though they may profess the same external forms\nof the Christian faith with ourselves.\"\n\n\"I can subscribe to the correctness of this remark; for when\nretiring from such society, I have often felt very grateful to\nthe Lord for giving me views of truth, and enkindling in my soul\nemotions and desires, of which they appear absolutely destitute.\"\n\n\"The Psalmist says, 'All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and\nthy saints shall bless thee' (Ps. cxlv. 10). The new creation of\nthe soul is the most wonderful specimen of the Divine workmanship;\nand every one in whom it is effected, will perpetually and for ever\nadvert to it with mingled emotions of astonishment and gratitude.\"\n\nNo great while after Mrs. Lobeck had acquired this more perfect\nknowledge of the theory of Divine truth, and became rooted and\ngrounded in its belief, she was received, with her husband, into\nfellowship with the church. They both distinguished themselves by\ntheir liberality, and by their activity in the various departments\nof labour connected with my congregation; and Mr. Lobeck was\neventually elected an elder, by the unanimous choice of his\nChristian brethren. There was one praiseworthy habit they formed\neven before their membership; and from which no circumstances,\nexcept illness or absence from home, could induce them to deviate;\nand that was, neither to receive company, or pay any fraternal\nvisits on the evenings when public worship was conducted at the\nchapel. They thus pursued their onward course with undeviating\nconsistency; walking worthy of their sacred vocation; an example\nto their Christian brethren, in faith, in charity, and in zeal;\nblending in their character so many lovely excellencies, as to\njustify a beautiful remark made by an intelligent observer, that\nthey had sustained as little injury from the fall, as any couple he\nhad ever known.\n\nWhom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, is an aphorism which was first\nuttered by an inspired writer, and now it has passed into current\ncirculation amongst the faithful in Christ Jesus; and as all\nchastisements, whether light and momentary, or heavy and prolonged,\nare designed to yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness, they\nshould be submitted to with meek submissiveness of spirit, and\nunwavering faith in their necessity and utility. In general the\nLord is pleased to give his people some intimations of their coming\ntrials, that they may look to him for strength and patience to\nendure them; but sometimes he departs from this general rule, and,\nas in the case of Job, the storm rises out of the dead calm--the\naffliction is as sudden, as it is unexpected. The Lobecks had three\nchildren, two sons and a daughter, the living personifications\nof vigorous health and sprightliness; but the youngest child,\na beautiful little boy about seven years of age, sickened and\ndied within the space of a few hours. I hastened to the house of\nmourning to offer the expressions of my sympathy; and there I saw\nthe intensity of parental sorrow, held in subjection to the triumph\nof heroic faith. There was a dignified placidity in Mr. Lobeck's\ncountenance, but he could not repress the falling tear. \"Our dear\nchild is taken from us,\" he said in a mild but firm tone; \"yet we\nmust not forget that the Lord has done it, who has reasons for what\nhe does; he does all things well. He never errs.\"\n\n\"This, Sir,\" said the mother, \"_is a great trial_. I feel it at the\nvery core of my heart. So sudden! We had no warning of its coming.\nOur medical friend did not apprehend any danger. But how thankful\nought I to be to our heavenly Father, who has permitted me to see\nthe bow in the overhanging cloud; the dear little sufferer said,\njust before he died, '_Ma, I am going to Jesus_.' Sweet words!\"\n\n\"The bitter, my dear friend, often yields sweetness. He was\ncommissioned to announce to you his elevation, even before he had\nseen the King in his beauty, and received his appointment.\"\n\n\"The sound of his sweet voice still lingers on my ear, but the\nsweeter words of his lips have sunk deep into my heart; and they\nsoothe and comfort me. He is happy, because a glorified spirit; and\nthough I cannot help mourning over my loss, yet I dare not repine.\nYes, he is with Jesus, and must be safe and happy.\"\n\n\"You may mourn your loss. This is natural. Jesus wept at the grave\nof his friend, even though he knew that he was coming back to\nlife. Your dear little one will long live in your memory. You will\noften recall his form, his looks, his sweet smiles and embraces,\nhis inquiries and his sayings. These reminiscences will keep in\ncontinuous flow the waters of maternal grief. But turn from his\ngrave, to heaven his present home. Think of his premature elevation,\nhis dignity, and his blessedness--the sorrows and the conflicts he\nhas escaped. Think of the honour which God has conferred on you; you\nare now the mother of a glorified spirit.\"\n\n\"I feel it to be an honour, and a great honour. But I shall never\nforget my sweet little Harry. He was the miniature of his father. I\nwatched his rapid growth, and the premature development of his mind\nwith intense pleasure. His looks, and speech, and manners were so\nengaging. I anticipated his coming manhood. Alas! he is taken from\nme.\"\n\n\"Taken from the evil to come; and the Lord has done it.\"\n\n\"I bow to his holy and sovereign will. He saw there was a necessity\nfor this severe stroke, or he would not have permitted it to fall\nupon us. Perhaps we were too fond of our children, and getting too\nfond of the world; and therefore he has sent this trial to wean our\naffections from earth; to purify them; to concentrate them supremely\non himself.\"\n\n\"Many have been heard to say, It hath been good for me that I have\nbeen afflicted. Hence afflictions, even the most severe, are not\npositive evils; they are blessings in disguise to the people of God.\nThey unsettle the affections which were cleaving too closely to\nearth; they elicit the hidden meaning of the precious promises of\nthe Bible, which distil the dew drops of Divine love on the heart;\nand by giving palpable demonstrations of the vanity of all human\npossessions, they imperceptibly invest the glory to be revealed with\na freshness of reality which is felt to be elevating and sublime.\"\n\nAt a subsequent interview, when adverting to this severe domestic\nbereavement, she thus expressed herself:--\"I can now say, what I\ncould not say before this trial came upon us--I know in whom I\nbelieve. My fears and misgivings have all left me. I am happy,\nbecause I know I am safe now; and expect to be more happy, when\nheart and flesh faint and fail, because then the Lord will be my\nportion for ever.\"\n\n\"Your dependence for safety and happiness, here and hereafter, is\nnot _now_ placed on your religious ceremonies, or on your virtuous\nattainments.\"\n\n\"O no! It _was_, when I was living under the beguiling delusions of\nthe Tractarian heresy; but _now_ I can say with the apostle, 'Yea\ndoubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the\nknowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss\nof all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ,\nand be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is\nof the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the\nrighteousness which is of God by faith' (Philip. iii. 8, 9).\"\n\n\"I congratulate you, my dear friend, in having lived to see this\nday--a day of sorrow, but a day of greater joy and rejoicing. Your\nhusband has exchanged his long cherished scepticism for the faith of\nChrist, and is now safe for eternity. Your dear little one is with\nJesus, in heaven, waiting your entrance. And you are now delivered\nfrom all your perplexities and depressive fears, and can anticipate\nthe glory to be revealed in you.\"\n\n\"These, Sir, are facts, great facts, astounding facts. No delusions,\ngrand realities. What an escape has my dear husband had from the\nsubtle devices of scepticism, and what an escape have I had from\nthe equally fatal devices of Tractarian superstition; and I cannot\nforget the subordinate part you have taken, in effecting these\ndeliverances; nor can I feel too grateful. I thank you for your\nwise counsels, for your faithful warnings, for your sympathy and\nyour friendship; but my purest and most ardent gratitude is due, and\nis often presented to HIM, who has produced these wonderful changes\nin our character and condition.\"\n\n\"And they are changes, my dear friend, which we may look upon as\npreludes and pledges of still more glorious changes, when the end\ncometh. 'Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet\nappear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we\nshall be like him; for we shall see him as he is' (1 John iii. 2).\"\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS.\n\n\nThe Christmas season carries the mind back to the origin of our\nfaith, and all the wondrous events connected with it. It has been\nmade the time for gathering together family connections, and drawing\ncloser those bands of kindred hearts, which the cares, and sorrows,\nand pleasures of the world are continually operating to cast\nloose; of calling back the members of a family who have launched\nforth into life, and wandered far asunder, once more to assemble\naround the parental hearth, that rallying place of the affections,\nthere to grow young again among the endearing remembrances of\nchildhood. And though this season is commonly devoted by the gay\nand the thoughtless to scenes of frivolous mirth, thus diverting\nthe attention from the contemplation of the glorious event which\nthe observance of Christmas Day is designed to commemorate, yet\nthat circumstance should not deter the pious Christian from\navailing himself of the opportunity which national custom affords\nof mingling in the friendly circle, and partaking of its innocent\ngratifications. The spirit of our religion neither requires us to\nshut ourselves up in a monastery, nor practise the austerities of\na recluse; but while it purifies the affections, and throws a\nsalutary restraint upon the appetites and passions, it permits us\nto enjoy the comforts and the felicity of social intercourse. It\nteaches moderation, but does not prohibit indulgence; it condemns\nlevity, but sanctions cheerfulness; and, like its illustrious\nAuthor, it does not hesitate to attend the festive gathering, when\nhallowed by the influences of pious friendship and domestic love.\n\nFully two years had now elapsed since my return from Fairmount, and\nduring the interval I had been engaged in close and unremitting\nattention to the care of my flock, and I believe I may say, without\nundue exultation, that my labours had been blessed. I frequently\ncorresponded with my country friends, and when, in the close of\n18--, Mr. Stevens sent me a pressing invitation to spend the\nChristmas with him, I resolved, after securing a suitable substitute\nin my absence, to proceed to Watville, along with Mr. Llewellin, who\nwas to accompany me on my visit. We left London by the stage coach\non a fine frosty morning, the 23d of December, and as evening was\nclosing in we reached Salisbury, where we were to pass the night,\nMr. Llewellin having some business to transact there. Our journey\nwas exceedingly pleasant. After emerging from the smoke and bustle\nof London, we passed through a beautiful country, attractive even in\nwinter, the aspect of which was all the more delightful to me from\nmy long previous confinement to a city. We travelled the greater\npart of the way with two young gentlemen, who were going home to\nspend the vacation. They were brothers, of nearly equal age--the one\ndestined for the profession of the law, the other for the church.\nThe elder boy was sprightly, the younger somewhat grave; both were\nvery agreeable and intelligent. With the happy buoyancy of youth ere\nits day-dreams are dispelled by the sad experience of maturer years,\nthe present was to them a joyous reality, only to be exceeded by the\nrealization of the bright visions of the future. Their conversation\nwas the complete overflow of youthful spirits, rejoicing in the\nrelease from school discipline, and the prospect of again meeting\ntheir friends, and returning for a time to all their country\nrecreations. They also alluded to their prospects in life--of their\nsuccess, in which no desponding thought had as yet ever crossed\ntheir minds; but, though thus sanguine in their anticipations, they\npossessed too much good sense to suppose that distinction could be\nattained without industry, or honour acquired without desert.\n\n\"I suppose, young gentlemen,\" said Mr. Llewellin, \"you intend to\ndevote your holidays to amusement.\"\n\n\"Not entirely,\" said the young lawyer; \"I intend to read history\nat least two hours every morning;\" \"and I intend,\" said the young\ndivine, \"to con over the classics as long, and then, Sir, to amuse\nmyself.\"\n\n\"I am happy to hear,\" added Mr. Llewellin, \"that you have come to\nsuch a decision; while your recreations unbend your minds from the\nseverity of close application, the adoption of such a habit will\nkeep them in trim for future service.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" replied the lawyer; \"if we wish to rise to eminence, we\nmust redeem time, rather than suffer it to be wasted in indolence\nand inactivity.\"\n\nThe young clergyman, who was looking out of the window, suddenly\nexclaimed, \"Here's old William standing at the gate with our horses,\nand yonder is papa coming on Smiler across the close.\"\n\nThe coach stopped, and out stepped our interesting companions, who,\nafter bidding us adieu, left us to pursue our journey alone. We soon\nlost sight of them, but, in the space of a few minutes, a turn in\nthe road revealed them again to our view; their father, alighting\nfrom his horse, joyfully embraced his children, after which they all\nmounted their steeds, and we watched them galloping off towards a\nbeautiful country-seat, which we had been admiring before our young\nfriends left us, but then had no idea that it was their destination.\n\nThe stage now drove on, and about five o'clock we were rattling\nthrough the streets of Salisbury, where, after refreshing ourselves\nat our inn, Mr. Llewellin sallied forth to transact the business\nmatter which had led us to take this route, and I ensconced myself\ncomfortably by the side of a blazing fire, where I commenced reading\nCheever's _Wanderings of a Pilgrim_, then just published. The charms\nof the narrative entranced me, and I gradually lost myself, crossing\nthe pass of the Grand St. Bernard to the charming Val d'Aoste, or\nsailing on the romantic Lake of Luzern. Mr. Llewellin was detained\nfor several hours; I accordingly had time to traverse a considerable\npart of Switzerland in company with my pilgrim. He at length\nappeared, and we shortly afterwards retired to rest. On getting up\nin the morning I proposed a walk to the cathedral, as we had some\ntime to spare before the coach started. On reaching it (the hour for\nmorning service not having yet arrived) we found the attendants busy\ndecking the cathedral with evergreens for the ensuing day. Though\nboth Mr. Llewellin and myself were decided Dissenters, we could\nnevertheless well appreciate the majesty of the noble structure in\nwhich we were now standing, and feel even something of a religious\nawe as we gazed down the long aisles, and listened to the echo of\nour footsteps as they reverberated through the building.\n\n\"After all,\" observed Mr. Llewellin, \"the simplest form of worship\nappears to me the most to be commended, where the mind runs no\ndanger of mistaking the mere excitement of the imagination for a\nburst of devotional feeling.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" I returned; \"and I quite agree with Cheever's remark\nin his _Wanderings_, which I was reading last night, that it is\ngenerally the period of greatest spiritual declension where we find\necclesiastical architecture most magnificent. But hark!\"\n\nThe organist had, unseen by us, ascended to the loft to practise;\nand at this moment pealed forth a majestic voluntary, which\nsublimely rolled away to the extremity of the building, and then\nreturned in a softer strain through the re-echoing aisles. Another\nand another succeeded. We both stood for some moments rooted to the\nspot, surrendering ourselves to the overpowering influence of the\nsacred strain. The music ceased for a few moments, and, recovering\nmyself, I exclaimed, \"Let us haste from this bewitching influence,\nwhich I am afraid savours but too much of mere earthly excitement.\"\n\"I think so too,\" rejoined Mr. Llewellin; \"and, nevertheless, I can\nwell understand the lines of the poet Gray:--\n\n    'Where through the long drawn aisle and fretted vault\n    The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.'\"\n\nAs our time was then nearly expired, we returned to our inn, and\nshortly afterwards started again in the coach; and after a journey\nof some hours, reached Watville, where we found Mr. Stevens'\ncarriage waiting to convey us to Fairmount. It is needless to say\nhow warmly we were welcomed by our friends, whom we had the pleasure\nof finding in excellent health. Soon after the first greetings were\nover, and we had arranged our toilet and made ourselves comfortable,\nMrs. Stevens, with a peculiar smile on her countenance, which _told\ntales_, said to Mr. Llewellin, \"Mr. and _Miss_ Roscoe are engaged\nto spend the evening with us; no doubt this will be a gratification\nto you.\" This communication at once raised his spirits, which had\nbeen gradually sinking as we approached the end of our journey.\nI was no longer at a loss to account for the sighs which had\noccasionally made their escape from his breast during the short\nintervals of silence that took place in the course of conversation.\nHis countenance now brightened up, and he seemed to be animated by a\nmore than usual flow of spirits.\n\nA storm of snow began now to descend as we gathered snugly around\nthe cheerful fire, and for a time enjoyed ourselves in familiar\nconverse by its uncertain light. Candles had been brought, and Mrs.\nStevens was busying herself with the tea arrangements, when the\nbell rang, and Mr. Roscoe was ushered into the parlour; but he came\nalone. \"I am sorry to inform you, Madam, that Sophia will not be\nable to be with you this evening, as she has caught a cold.\"\n\n\"I hope, Sir,\" said Mr. Llewellin, with a certain awkwardness of\nmanner of which gentlemen are sometimes guilty when they feel _too\nmuch to express_, \"that she is not materially affected by it.\"\n\n\"O no, Sir, it is only a slight cold, and she is unwilling to\nexpose herself to the night-air, lest she should be incapable of\ngoing to church in the morning.\"\n\nAfter tea our conversation turned upon the festivals of the church,\nand the propriety of observing those days which are set apart for\nthe celebration of the great events which stand connected with the\nredemption of man. \"I was once,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"superstitiously\nattached to these days, and regarded them with more reverence than\nI did the Sabbath; but I have now corrected the error into which I\nhad fallen, and though I still reverence them more than the common\ndays of the year, I do not look upon them as equal to the Sabbath in\nobligation or sanctity.\"\n\n\"Some Dissenters,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"who wish to get as far away\nfrom the church as they can, reprobate this observance as savouring\nof Popery. Is it not so, Mr. Llewellin?\"\n\n\"Yes, aunt, they do; and in doing so, they go from one extreme\nto the other. Their aversion to superstition is so strong, that\nthey cannot observe these commemorative days of Christianity with\nfeelings of reverence and delight, because the zealous patrons\nof the church invest many of them with more sanctity than they\nattribute to the Sabbath. As time is the regular and unbroken\nsuccession of minutes, hours, days, months, and years, one portion\nof it cannot be more sacred than another, unless it derives a\nsanctity from the command of God; and since he has enjoined the\nobservance of the Sabbath only, as that portion of time which we are\nto hold sacred, we feel ourselves under no obligation to keep the\nholidays which are set apart by mere human authority.\"\n\n\"But, Sir,\" interposed Mr. Roscoe, \"though we do not exalt the\nholidays of our church to equal sanctity with the Christian Sabbath,\nyet as the recurrence of the anniversaries of great events in the\nhistory of man is known to impart to past transactions a degree of\ninterest which is not so powerfully felt at other times, is there\nnot a propriety in observing these commemorative days, if we are\nanxious to derive from past events the powerful lessons which they\nought to teach?\"\n\n\"Most certainly,\" returned Mr. Llewellin. \"I do not object to these\ncommemorative days, though some of my brethren do, but gladly avail\nmyself of them, as a means of recalling to remembrance the great\nfacts which stand inseparably connected with my redemption. I can go\nwith you to church on a Christmas morning, to celebrate the birth\nof my Saviour--on a Good Friday, to commemorate his death--and on\nan Easter Sunday, to rejoice in his resurrection. And though some\nmay censure this as a dereliction of principle, I do not so view it.\nIt gives me greater pleasure to unite with my fellow-Christians,\nthan to live in a state of alienation from them: and while I\nwould condemn all superstitious attachment to these days, I would\nreprobate the spirit which treats them with contempt.\"\n\n\"I am happy to find,\" observed Mrs. Stevens, \"that you have not\nlost your catholic spirit by associating with your brethren in the\nmetropolis; and I hope you have been the means of diffusing its\nmellowing influence amongst them--softening down their prejudices,\nand bringing them over to a more friendly intimacy with their\nfellow-Christians of the Establishment.\"\n\n\"Since you left us,\" rejoined Mr. Roscoe, \"I have examined some of\nthe reasons which induce you to dissent from our Establishment:\nand though they have not produced the same effect on my mind which\nthey have on yours, yet I think it right to confess, that they have\nconvinced me of the impropriety of censuring you, and of the folly,\nnot to use a stronger term, of allowing a difference of opinion on\nminor questions of religion to operate as a barrier to Christian\nfellowship.\"\n\n\"I am really happy to hear you make such a concession; it exactly\naccords with my own views:\" and turning towards Mrs. Stevens, he\nsaid, \"You seem to think, aunt, that all the bigotry of religion is\non our side.\"\n\n\"Quite enough of it,\" she replied.\n\n\"Too much, I grant; but with all due deference, I think that you of\nthe Establishment have the greatest share amongst yourselves.\"\n\n[Illustration: CHRISTMAS EVE.\n\nVol. i. page 551.]\n\n\"Bigotry amongst us! A libel! a libel!\" Mrs. Stevens returned, with\nan expression of feigned indignation.\n\n\"I suppose, aunt, you are become a believer in the modern doctrine\nof libel; which teaches us, that _the greater the truth, the greater\nthe libel_.\"\n\n\"Well, well, we won't contest this point; but rather regret that\nthere should be still found amongst any of us a vestige of that\nanti-Christian spirit, which keeps asunder those who are united in\nthe bonds of the everlasting covenant, and who look forward to dwell\ntogether in that heavenly world, where no discordant notes will ever\nbreak the harmony of holy fellowship.\"\n\n\"It is when we view religion,\" remarked Mr. Roscoe, \"as connected\nwith this world--as coming in contact with our prejudices, and\nour passions--as trespassing upon the sanctity of our opinions,\nand threatening to disturb them, that we imperceptibly imbibe an\nanti-Christian feeling towards those who differ from us: but when we\nview it as connected with eternity--as involving the glory of God in\nthe transformation of the human character; and when we distinctly\nrecognize the action of his power, in setting apart a peculiar\npeople to display before the men of the world a palpable evidence\nof the unity of our essential faith, our mind becomes imperceptibly\nimbued with the spirit of the Redeemer, who loves no disciple _more_\nbecause he is a Churchman, and no disciple _less_ because he is a\nDissenter--having given his life a ransom for all who trust in him\nfor salvation.\"\n\nThe conversation was here interrupted by the sweet voices of\nchildren singing a Christmas carol in front of the house. We\nlistened for some minutes, when Mrs. Stevens proposed that the choir\nshould be invited into the hall, where they would be sheltered from\nthe snow which was drifting against them. I immediately opened the\ndoor, which threw them into some confusion, and they were on the\neve of scampering away. I requested them to come in; and taking\nhold of the hand of the youngest girl, I brought her into the hall,\nwhen, after some backwardness and hesitation, the rest cheerfully\nfollowed her. Mrs. Stevens welcomed them, and was pleased to\nrecognize in the young singers some of her own Sunday scholars, who,\nin spite of snow and drift, had carried out this plan of showing\ntheir attachment to her. Their bonnets and cloaks were taken off;\nand after they had had some refreshment and warmed themselves by\nthe fire, Mr. Llewellin consented to play on the piano, and we\nall joined the youthful choristers in singing the praises of the\nRedeemer. Thus pleasantly passed away the hours of the evening,\nwithout entailing guilt or self-reproach; and having rewarded those\nwho came to afford us gratification, we allowed them to depart,\nhappy and contented.\n\nOn the following morning we rose at the usual hour, and after the\ndevotions of the family were concluded we took breakfast. The ground\nwas carpeted with the snow which had fallen last night, but the\nweather was clear and dry above, and we contrived to reach church\nwithout much inconvenience. On entering the sacred building, in\nwhich I had on past occasions listened with delight to the glad\ntidings of salvation, and where many who were then assembled had\nreceived the first impressions of truth on their hearts, my eye\ncaught sight of the venerable Rector, who had just raised his\nface from its concealment under the folds of his surplice, having\ninvoked in silent prayer the Divine blessing on himself and his\ncongregation. The time that had elapsed since I had previously met\nwith him had not passed lightly over his head, for he now bore\nevident marks of increasing age and infirmity. When the audience\nstood up, as he began the service, I thought of the venerable\npatriarch who, when addressing the tribes of Israel just before his\ndeparture, said--\"I am an hundred and twenty years old this day;\nI can no more go out and come in.\" Though his hand shook, and his\ngeneral appearance indicated great bodily weakness, yet his voice\nwas strong, and he read the whole service with great impressiveness\nand solemnity. Having finished it he threw off the surplice, and\nascended the pulpit; and looking around with a benignant smile\non his crowded auditory, he once more knelt to pray to Him who\nrewards with the open manifestations of his grace the prayers of his\nfaithful servants. He chose the following text:--\"For Christ is not\nentered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures\nof the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence\nof God for us: nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the\nhigh-priest entereth into the holy place every year with blood of\nothers; for then must he often have suffered since the foundation of\nthe world: but now once, in the end of the world, hath he appeared,\nto put away sin by the sacrifice of himself\" (Heb. ix. 24-26). After\na few introductory observations, he said, \"Allow me to call your\nattention to--\n\n\"I. The Saviour's appearance on earth. Mark,\n\n\"_First._ The time of his coming. It was in the end of the world;\nthat is, at the conclusion of the Levitical dispensation.\n\n\"_Second._ The design of his appearance--to put away sin by the\nsacrifice of himself.\n\n\"_Third._ The perfection of the sacrifice which he offered--verses\n25, 26.\n\n\"The Jewish sacrifices,\" said the venerable Rector, \"removed\nceremonial defilement, and the guilt of the sins which were\ncommitted against the political and ecclesiastical laws of the\ntheocracy; but they could not expiate the guilt of the sins\ncommitted against God, nor restore peace to the conscience of the\ntransgressor: and their perpetual repetition, during the succeeding\nperiods of that dispensation, was an unequivocal proof of their\ninefficacy. But such was the efficacy of the sacrifice which Jesus\nChrist presented, when he offered up himself to God, that he made\na full expiation for the sins of his people, and procured for\nthem pardon, acceptance, and eternal life. When his enemies stood\ngazing on him, as the blood was flowing from his veins, they were\nunconscious of the great moral effects which that precious blood\nwas actually producing. It was throwing back an influence on the\nages which were past--cancelling the arrears which were due to the\njustice of God from the redeemed who had been pressing into the\nkingdom of heaven from the death of Abel to that hour; and it was\nextending forward to the end of time a source of merit, which would\ntake away the guilt of all who should believe in him. And yet,\nmy brethren, though the Scriptures declare, in the most decisive\nterms, that we have redemption through the blood of Christ, even the\nforgiveness of our sins, many impeach the efficacy of the atonement,\nand some would expunge it from the Christian system. But if they are\ndisposed to mistrust its efficacy in relation to themselves, why\nnot suffer it to remain for the benefit of others? Take away the\natonement of Christ from the scheme of redemption, and you commit an\nact more cruel towards man than that of which a Levite would have\nbeen guilty had he, under cloud of night, carried off the brazen\nserpent, which was the only means of saving the people from the\nagonies of a lingering but certain death. Take away the atonement\nof Christ from the scheme of redemption, and you commit a deed more\ncruel than that of which the high-priest would have been guilty, had\nhe drained off the waters of Bethesda the night before the descent\nof the angel, by whose mysterious power they became the means of\nhealing the withered, the halt, and the blind. O, take not from the\nsanctuary of the Lord the blood of sprinkling that speaketh better\nthings than the blood of Abel: it is the only voice that speaks the\nwords of peace to man, when stung by remorse, or agitated by fear.\n\n\"II. The Saviour's appearance in heaven.\n\n\"_First._ Where does he appear? In heaven itself.\n\n\"_Second._ For whom does he appear? For us.\n\n\"_Third._ For what purpose does he appear?\n\n\"It hath pleased God,\" said the preacher, when illustrating this\npart of his subject, \"in the conveyance of blessings to man, to\nappoint a regular system of agency and means as the medium through\nwhich they are given. To object to such an appointment is no less\nan insult to his authority, than an impeachment of his wisdom. It\nis but rarely, indeed, that such an act of folly and impiety is\ncommitted in relation to the minor gifts which he bestows. Life is\npreserved, not by a direct and arbitrary exertion of his power,\nbut by the reception of food prepared by the labour and skill of\nman, and received according to the ordinance of his appointment.\nEvils which threaten our honour and happiness are averted, not by a\nvisible interposition of his providence, but by the influence and\nexertions of our friends, who are employed under his direction. If,\nthen, on this general principle the ordinary affairs of his wise\nand benevolent administration are conducted; and if this principle\nbe admitted by us, and we feel its practical utility, why should\nwe object to the adoption of it in reference to a more important\nand a more momentous course of procedure? Why refuse to admit that\nJesus Christ is the medium through whom all the designs of mercy\nand grace, in relation to man, are accomplished? If it hath pleased\nthe Father that in him all fulness should dwell, ought we to object\nto such an arrangement? Is it wise? Is it becoming? Is it safe?\nBut, brethren, I hope better things of you, though I thus speak.\nYou feel too deeply your obligations to the Redeemer, for laying\ndown his life a ransom for you, to wish to rob him of the glory of\nyour salvation--and are too deeply interested in the result of his\nappearance in the presence of God for you, to exclude him from your\naffections and confidence. He now appears in the presence of God to\nintercede for you; and on his intercession your present safety and\nhappiness, and your future glory depend.\"\n\nThe looks, the tones, and the manner of the speaker showed that he\nwas thoroughly impressed with the importance of his subject; and\nbeing earnest himself, an evident impression was produced on his\naudience.\n\nOn leaving church, I was walking a little behind Mr. and Mrs.\nStevens, and Mr. Llewellin, and was much pleased to find my old\nfriend, Farmer Pickford, and his wife, waiting on the roadside to\nspeak to me.\n\n\"I am main glad, Sir, to see you back amongst us once more; and I\nhope you will come some day and take pot-luck with us.\"\n\n\"Yes, do, Sir,\" said Mrs. Pickford, \"we shall be so glad to see\nyou. Our eldest son often talks about you. We hope what you said,\nwhen reading the Bible, and your prayer, have been made a great\nblessing to his soul.\"\n\n\"He'll be a better man than his father, and no mistake. Why, Sir, he\nknows more of the Bible already than Parson Cole; he can say more\nvarses than the Parson can; and he can tell the meaning of them too.\nI and my mistress often sit up a bit at night, after the rest are\ngone to bed, to hear his talk about the good things of the Bible.\"\n\n\"Have you established family prayer in your family?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" said Mrs. Pickford. \"Our son prays with the family every\nnight.\"\n\n\"Aye, Sir, it would do your heart good to hear our Harry pray. He\noften makes me weep when I am hearkening to him. Why, at his age,\nand a longful while after, I was a wild, wicked man. I have sinned\na main lot of sins in my time, the more's the pity; but now I know\nthe blood of Christ cleanses from all sin. What a mercy! Things are\nchanged amongst us for the better.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir,\" rejoined his wife; \"the wilderness is now a fruitful\nfield. We have no swearing, or drunkenness, or Sabbath-breaking,\namongst us now. We are so happy, and thankful to the Lord and to\nyou.\"\n\n\"I suppose, farmer, you would not like to have things changed back\nagain to their former state?\"\n\n\"I would rather die first, and no mistake. What! swear again--and\nget drunk again--and break the Sabbath again--and be the same man I\nwas when you gave us the first talk about the worth of the soul. The\nLord, I hope, will never let that come to pass.\"\n\n\"My heart would burst to see it,\" exclaimed Mrs. Pickford. \"Our\nHenry tells his father, that when the Lord begins the work of grace\nin the soul, he always goes on with it.\"\n\n\"The Lord has done a little for me, I do believe; because I\nshould never have done it myself without him; but I can't get on\nin knowledge and in grace, like my mistress and our Harry. I am\ndullish like, except in the matter of farming. But I hate sin, love\nmy Bible, trust in Christ for salvation; and I think at times it\nwill be well with me at last. I am happy to tell you, Sir, we now\nall go to chapel at night.\"\n\n\"So then, farmer, you have got over your scruples, and go and hear\nmy friend, Mr. Stevens, on a Sabbath evening.\"\n\n\"He's a wonderful man. I sometimes think he can preach better than\nour Rector; though he is a main good preacher. He is more simple and\nplain-like. Somehow or another, but I don't know how it is, what he\nsays gets farther into my heart, and stays longer there than our\nRector's sermons. I wish he would preach in the morning too. The\nyoungsters like him best. Our Harry leads the singing at the chapel,\nand teaches in the school. He is a kind of a right-hand man amongst\n'um.\"\n\n\"Keep steadily on, farmer, in the good way; avoid temptation; let no\nsin have dominion over you; read your Bible, be constantly coming\nby faith to Jesus Christ, to pardon, to purify, and save you, and I\nshall see you in heaven at last.\"\n\n\"The Lord grant it may be so. Will you speak to me then if you\nshould happen to see me there?\"\n\n\"Speak to you! yes; and hail you as a son of God, made perfect in\nknowledge and in purity.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll live in hope. You will come and take pot-luck with us\nbefore you leave Fairmount?\"\n\n\"Yes, do, Sir,\" added Mrs. Pickford; \"we shall all be so glad to see\nyou, and so will dear Henry.\"\n\n\"I forgot to say one thing,\" observed the farmer, \"which mainly you\nwould like to know, Sir.\"\n\n\"And what is that, Mr. Pickford?\"\n\n\"Why, my mistress and our Harry have set up a bit of a prayer\nmeeting like, in our kitchen, on a Wednesday night. Our youngsters\nand sarvants, and some of the neighbours come to it, and fill it;\nand we have some good singing, and all the rest of it, as they have\nat Mr. Stevens' chapel.\"\n\n\"I am happy to hear this, farmer; but have you a sermon?\"\n\n\"No, Sir, not always; but we have a sarmunt now and tan, when we can\nget hold of a preacher; and when we 'ant got one, our Harry says a\nfew things from the Bible, and you would be main pleased to hear\nhim. He puts out what he says in a plainish sort of a way, but we\nall see that what he says comes from his heart, and it gets into our\nhearts, and does us good. Will you come, Sir, some Wednesday night\nwhile you are here, and give us a prayer and a sarmunt? You shall\nhave a full kitchen.\"\n\n\"Yes, do, Sir,\" said Mrs. P.; \"we shall be so glad to see you and\nhear you. I'll invite all our neighbours.\"\n\n\"And if the kitchen be not big enough to hold them, I'll have the\nbarn cleared out, and we'll go there.\"\n\n\"Very well. I'll be with you next Wednesday.\"\n\nWe then shook hands and parted, and I hastened to rejoin my friends,\nwho I found, in the interval, had met with the Roscoes, including\nMiss Roscoe, who had now happily completely recovered from her cold,\nand consented, evidently to the satisfaction of Mr. Llewellin, to\naccompany her parents in the evening to Fairmount. I informed them\nof my conversation with Farmer Pickford, and how I had arranged to\nconduct a prayer meeting at his house on the ensuing Wednesday. We\nthen proceeded homeward, discussing the topics of the sermon we had\njust heard, with, I trust, much mutual profit. Early in the evening,\nMr. and Mrs. Roscoe, and Miss Roscoe, appeared, agreeably to their\npromise, and we spent a very pleasant Christmas evening together.\nThe tranquil joy visible in the countenances of Mr. Llewellin and\nMiss Roscoe was especially manifest--our courting days, as Goldsmith\nremarks, being generally about the happiest in our lives. After tea\nwe had a little sacred music, both Mr. Llewellin and Miss Roscoe\nbeing admirable performers on the pianoforte. We then all joined in\nsinging together the Evening Hymn. Thus terminated our Christmas at\nFairmount, during which we had all experienced how much better is\nthe employment of the day in the purposes of devotion than in those\nof conviviality and mirth.\n\nOn Christmas Day, when the scattered members of a family are\ngathered together to enjoy, around the social hearth, the pleasures\nof social intercourse, those who are the avowed disciples of the\nRedeemer should be on their guard, lest they conform to the custom\nof the world, which too often celebrates his birth by indulging in\nthe pleasures of eating and drinking, and thoughtless merriment,\nrather than by improving conversation and the interchange of\ndevotional sentiments. We are required to set an example; and\nwhile I am no advocate for the exclusion of innocent recreations\nand indulgences from the domestic circle, I must enforce the\nimperative necessity of a dignified consistency of conduct on the\npart of those who profess to be wiser in their generation than\nthe men of the world, and who contemplate, with wonder and with\ngratitude, the scheme of redemption, consummated by the appearance\nof the Saviour, on which many pour contempt, or look with unmoved\nindifference. You may have your family parties, and you may invite\nyour friends to partake of your bounty, and you may assume and wear\nan air of cheerfulness and pleasantry; but no excess of eating, or\nof drinking, or of levity should be tolerated, as your profession\nhas raised you to the summit of observation, and the irreligious,\nno less than your fellow-Christians, expect that you will let your\nmoderation appear unto all men. Your children, if they are not\ndecidedly pious, may wish, on this day of festivity, to trespass\na little farther on the gravity of your domestic habits than they\npresume to do on ordinary occasions; and though I would not advise\nyou to transfer the sanctity of the Sabbath to this day, as you have\nno authority for so doing, yet there is a propriety in observing\nit with decorum, as commemorating the birth of him who came to put\naway sin by the sacrifice of himself. The slightest reference to the\n_design_ of his mission will suggest to your mind the importance of\ncelebrating this day in a suitable manner, by offering \"thanks unto\nGod for his unspeakable gift,\" and by giving a practical proof that\nhe came to save his people from their sins.\n\n\n\n\nWINTER SCENES.\n\n\nThe weather had been intensely cold since our arrival at Fairmount,\nand for two days the snow had descended without intermission; but\non the second evening a severe frost set in, and when I stepped\nout in the morning, I found that the fallen flakes had become so\nhardened that I could walk on them without leaving the impression\nof my foot on the surface. I love the country at all seasons, and,\nthough certainly preferring it in the genial seasons of summer and\nautumn, when the woods are decked in their mantle of green, and the\nfields brighten in the sunshine with their waving crops of golden\ngrain, I have nevertheless frequently experienced a large amount of\npleasure in rambling during winter along the frozen roads and lanes,\nor contemplating the bleak landscape spreading out before me, with\nits white carpet of snow.\n\nAfter walking briskly onward for a little distance, I determined,\nafter some hesitation, to revisit the spot where, on a former\noccasion,[29] I had sat to feast myself on the enchanting scenery of\nthe country, which was then clothed in its gayest summer dress; but\nnow the scene was completely changed. The skeleton trees extended\ntheir leafless branches sprinkled with snow-flakes; many of the\nevergreens in the shrubbery presented a withered and scorched\naspect, from the influence of the frost; while the little birds,\nwho in the summer had delighted us with their music, were now\nroaming about the country in search of food, and some of them not\nunfrequently found dead on the roadside from hunger and cold.\n\n  [29] See vol. i. p. 92.\n\nAs I stood viewing the change which the winter season had made in\nthe appearance of nature, my mind reverted to the changes which\nas suddenly take place in the dispensations of Providence; and I\nrecalled to my remembrance many who, during my short pilgrimage,\nhad sunk from the heights of prosperity to the depths of adversity,\nand whose opening spring of plenty and of hope had been succeeded\nby the sterile and stormy winter--closing up the visions of their\nanticipated bliss in the gloom of disappointment and of woe. While\nthus musing on the mutations of nature and of Providence, I saw two\nlads approaching from a distant meadow, and when they drew near\nenough for me to trace their features, I recognized the children of\nthe woodman whom I visited on the evening when his little daughter\ndied.[30] They looked very sorrowful and dejected, and exclaimed,\nas soon as they recognized me, \"O, Sir, we are again in trouble--we\nhave lost father! Have you seen him, or heard of him? We have been\nwalking about ever since daybreak, but we can't find him.\" They then\ngave me an account of the calamity which had befallen them.\n\n  [30] See vol. i. p. 104.\n\nAfter the interment of his daughter, he regained his usual flow of\nspirits, and felt resigned to the will of God; but within the last\nfew weeks he had sunk into a low, desponding state, and often spoke\nof his decease as one who believed the hour of his departure was at\nhand; and yet health nerved his arm, and he was strong to labour.\n\"Mother often told him,\" said the eldest son, \"that he ought not to\nmistrust Providence, who had always provided food and raiment for\nus; nor yet to think that he was going to leave us. But she could\nnot comfort him; for, after coming home at night, he would sit and\nweep, and talk to us till we all wept with him; and we knew not\nwhy, for we saw no danger coming. We were all well and happy except\nfather.\"\n\nHe had gone to his work on the preceding day, at his usual hour,\ntaking with him, in his bag and bottle, his refreshment, and was\nseen by his master about noon, walking away from the field in which\nhe had been at work, with his dog by his side, but neither of them\nhad been heard of since. \"We fear, Sir,\" said the lad, who sobbed\naloud as he spoke, wiping away at the same time the falling tears\nwith the sleeve of his frock, \"he has tumbled into some pit, and\nhas perished in the snow; but, Sir, we cannot trace any marks of\nhis footsteps, nor yet hear Trail bark nor howl. Farmer Pickford\nand his son have just been away searching for him in one direction,\nand we in another; and the whole village is up looking for him, but\nwe can see nothing like him anywhere, and I feel assured that poor\nfather is gone. O, Sir, if you could but come and speak a word of\ncomfort to mother! She is so unhappy, she does nothing but wring her\nhands and cry, for she does not know what to do.\"\n\nHaving heard this tale of woe, I resolved to accompany the two lads\nto the cottage, and endeavour to soothe their mother's distress.\nThe distracted wife was standing at the door, and, on seeing me,\nshe clasped her hands in an agony of grief, and began to repeat to\nme the affecting tale. \"I have thought, Sir, at times, he would not\nlive long, for within the last two months his spirit and his prayer\nall seemed to prove that he was getting ripe for glory; but I did\nnot expect to lose him so soon, nor in this way.\"\n\n\"You do not,\" I remarked, \"suppose that he is murdered?\"\n\n\"O no, Sir! He has tumbled into some pit and perished in the snow,\nwhich fell yesterday in larger and thicker flakes than I ever saw\nbefore; but I feared no danger, because he knows the parts so well.\nI expected him home sooner than usual, on account of the badness of\nthe weather; and as I thought something warm would comfort him, I\nhad got a stew ready, but\"--she could add no more.\n\nI was very much affected by the aspect of the interior of the\ncottage, which still showed the preparations made on the preceding\nevening for the poor woodman's return. The neat round table stood\nnear the fire, covered with a clean cloth; a deep wooden trencher,\nwith a spoon and salt-cellar made of the same material, were placed\nbeside it; the oak chair was in readiness to receive its owner,\nand the small kettle was still hanging over the fire, which had\nbeen suffered to dwindle from the bright blaze into dying embers. I\nendeavoured to comfort her in this hour of her sorrow; but she was\nso overpowered with anguish, that words of consolation appeared to\nbe of no avail; and after praying with her I left, with a promise\nthat I would call again. The lines of the poet Thomson, with which\nI had been long familiar, now recurred to my recollection, and I\ncould not repress the tear which their remembrance on the present\noccasion involuntarily caused:--\n\n    \"Ah! little think the gay licentious proud,\n     Whom pleasure, pow'r, and affluence surround;\n     They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth,\n     And wanton, often cruel riot, waste;\n     Ah! little think they, while they dance along,\n     How many feel, this very moment, death,\n     And all the sad variety of pain.\n     How many sink in the devouring flood,\n     Or more devouring flame! How many bleed,\n     By shameful variance betwixt man and man!\n     How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms,\n     Shut from the common air, and common use\n     Of their own limbs! How many drink the cup\n     Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread\n     Of misery! Sore pierc'd by wintry winds,\n     How many sink into the sordid hut\n     Of cheerless poverty! How many shake\n     With all the fiercer tortures of the mind,\n     Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse!\n     Whence, tumbling headlong from the height of life,\n     They furnish matter for the tragic muse.\n     Even in the vale, where wisdom loves to dwell,\n     With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd,\n     How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop\n     In deep retir'd distress! How many stand\n     Around the deathbed of their dearest friends,\n     And point the parting anguish! Thought fond man\n     Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills,\n     That one incessant struggle render life,\n     One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate,\n     Vice in his high career would stand appall'd,\n     And heedless rambling impulse, learn to think;\n     The conscious heart of charity would warm,\n     And her wide wish benevolence dilate;\n     The social tear would rise, the social sigh;\n     And into clear perfection, gradual bliss,\n     Refining still, the social passions work.\"\n\nOn my return to Fairmount, I found the Roscoes there; and, on\nentering the parlour, Mrs. Stevens said, \"We have felt somewhat\nuneasy on your account. I hope nothing unpleasant has detained you.\"\n\n\"I have been, Madam, to the house of mourning, where grief is still\nraging unassuaged.\" I then narrated the melancholy tale, which\ndeeply affected the whole party; and various plans were suggested\nfor the recovery of the lost woodman.\n\n\"It will be impossible for us,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"to do anything\nin the way of searching for this poor man; but we may make some\nprovision for the support of his widow, as I fear she may now too\ntruly be termed, by commencing a subscription for her, which I think\nis no less our duty than our privilege.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" replied Mrs. Stevens, who immediately drew from her\npocket-book a five pound note, which sum was increased to the amount\nof \u00a317 by the donations of the rest of the party.\n\n\"How soon,\" remarked Mr. Stevens, \"may a mysterious Providence\nlay waste the pleasant things of our possession, and leave us in\na state of destitution and affliction! I saw the woodman and his\nfamily at church on Christmas morning; the bloom of health was on\nhis countenance, and a fine glow of delight came over it when Mr.\nIngleby was describing the effects which would be produced on the\nmind of a redeemed sinner when taking the first look at the Great\nHigh Priest of the heavenly temple. I have no doubt but he spent the\nevening of that day in the bosom of his family, blessing them with\nhis prayers and instructions.\"\n\n\"At no season of the year,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"am I so powerfully\nimpressed by a sense of the Divine goodness, as during the inclement\nseason of winter; when I am sheltered from the rude storm, which\noften beats through the shattered roof of the poor man's cottage--am\nwarmed by the cheerful blaze, which seldom burns on his hearth--have\nextra clothing to cover me whenever I am exposed to the severity of\nthe weather--and have all the comforts and conveniences of life,\nwhile many,\n\n          \"'Sore pierc'd by wintry winds,\n    ----sink into the wretched hut\n    Of cheerless poverty!'\n\nBut why am I favoured with these mercies of which many others are\ndeprived? I might have been doomed to work for my daily bread, or\nperhaps to beg it from door to door; or, looking at the fate of this\npoor woodman, such a calamity might quite as likely have befallen\none of my dearest friends.\"\n\n\"If we wish to trace our mercies,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"to the\nsource from whence they proceed, we must go to the fountain of all\ngoodness, and acknowledge that 'every good and perfect gift is from\nabove, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no\nvariableness, neither shadow of turning.' No other reason can be\nassigned why we are so distinguished by the munificence of his\nkindness in preference to others, than the sovereignty of his will.\"\n\n\"And does it not,\" said Miss Roscoe, \"enhance the value of our\nmercies, and tend to excite our gratitude to still higher degrees\nof ardour, when we receive them as coming from the fountain of all\ngoodness through the mediation of our Redeemer, who gave himself for\nus!\"\n\n\"And,\" remarked Mr. Stevens, \"if we are distinguished in preference\nto others, when we can present no stronger claims on the Divine\nbounty, I think we ought to act an equally munificent part towards\nthe more needy and afflicted of the human family. I am at a loss to\nconceive how any Christian can consent to be comfortably clothed and\nfed, while so many, even of the household of faith, are suffering\nall the evils attendant on a state of poverty. What we possess is\nintrusted to our care as stewards, not given to us as proprietors;\nand though we are allowed to partake of it, yet are we not commanded\nto distribute to the necessities of the saints?\"\n\n\"I have no doubt,\" said Mr. Roscoe, \"there are many pious and\nbenevolent Christians who would distribute a much larger portion of\ntheir goods amongst the poor and the needy, if they knew the extent\nof their privations; but living apart from the suffering community\nby which they are surrounded, and seldom hearing of its woes, they\nhave no conception of the prevalence of distress, and from ignorance\nrather than avarice, withhold the assistance they would otherwise\nmost willingly afford. I have long entertained this opinion; for I\ngenerally find, that when any special case of distress becomes a\nsubject of notoriety, or when any benevolent scheme is promulgated\nto promote the comfort of the poor, especially on any pressing\noccasion, contributions flow into the treasury of benevolence to a\nlarge amount.\"\n\n\"Yes, papa,\" answered his daughter; \"when the public see the\npallid and emaciated form of misery moving before their eye, or\nwhen they hear the mournful relation of its sufferings, the common\nsympathies of their nature are powerfully excited, and they cannot\nhelp affording some degree of assistance without doing violence to\ntheir Christian feelings; but is it not our duty, as the disciples\nof the Redeemer, to imitate his example _in going about continually\ndoing good_? We are told that 'the poor shall never cease out of\nthe land;' and can poverty exist unattended by its consequent\nevils? Would it not, on our part, be a profitable exercise, were we\nsometimes to leave our warm fireside, during the inclemency of the\nweather, and visit the huts and cottages of the poor, to examine for\nourselves how they are clad, and how they are warmed and fed?\"\n\n\"Certainly, my dear; and I think that those Christians who possess\nwealth to any extent beyond the immediate wants of their own family,\nwho never pay such a visit to the poor man's dwelling, not only\ndeprive themselves of one strong incitement to gratitude, but act\na faithless part to him who has employed them in the capacity of\nstewards to distribute his bounties.\"\n\n\"I quite agree with you,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"in your opinion\nrespecting the benevolence of the public when any case of distress,\nor when any scheme of charity becomes the subject of notoriety, but\nthe benevolence which takes its rise from the mere sympathies of\nour nature, or that is stimulated to excitement by the example of\nothers, is a defective principle, and essentially different from the\npure benevolence of Christianity, which, taking its rise from the\nauthority of the Divine law, proposes the example of the Redeemer\nas the pattern of its own conduct, going and distributing its\ndonations in the unfrequented paths of misery, no less than in the\nopen field of want.\"\n\n\"What you say, Sir,\" replied Mr. Roscoe, \"is very true; and it\npossesses another property which you have forgotten to mention--it\nis less dependent on excitement, and consequently more steady in\nits exercise. I once heard of a lady of rank who rode out in her\ncarriage one frosty morning, but having passed the suburbs of the\ncity, felt the weather so intensely cold, that she ordered the\ncoachman to drive home as fast as possible. Turning then to a\nfriend who was with her, she said, 'I will immediately purchase\ntwelve pairs of blankets for the poor, who must be nearly frozen to\ndeath.' In the afternoon, when reminded of her promise, she said, 'I\nthink the weather is become so mild that they will not require the\nblankets.' 'Yes,' replied her friend, 'it is milder in this parlour\nthan it was in the carriage, but it is equally severe in the open\nair.' In this case, as in many others, the intensity of the weather\nexcited the benevolent feeling, and extorted the pledge; but as soon\nas the bitter cold outside was exchanged for the comfortable warmth\nwithin, the feeling gradually subsided, and the poor were left still\nto suffer without enjoying the benefit of relief.\"\n\n\"I was so much struck,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"with the description\nof charity which I met with in the course of my reading some time\nsince, that I transcribed it into my common-place book, and, by your\npermission, I will now read it:--\n\n\"'Charity is no intermittent thing that now and then breaks out into\nbrilliant munificence, and then retires to slumber in the lap of\nindolence and selfish repose; that, like a burning mountain, emits\noccasional sparks and flashes of splendour, and then rolls forth\nnothing but smoke and darkness. It is a lamp that is always burning,\nsometimes with a brighter and sometimes with a fainter light, but is\nnever extinguished. It is a vital principle--a generous life--the\npulses of which are continually proceeding, now with stronger and\nnow with more languid beats, but never come to a stand still. The\nlife of a charitable man consists not merely of a few detached acts\nof desultory bounty, separated from each other by long intervals;\nhis heart is an inexhaustible fountain, that supplies a current\nof kind attentions; that sends forth a stream of services to his\nfellow-creatures, few of which may be signal, but all of which are\nsincere, and which, though separately considered, may appear small,\nyet, collectively, are of great amount.'\"\n\n\"But,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"we rarely find a pure and unremitting\ncharity, except among those who are the real disciples of Jesus\nChrist; and the motive by which they are induced to cultivate\nit is very powerful. In the twenty-fifth chapter of the gospel\nby Matthew, our Lord has given us an impressive description of\nthe solemnities of the future judgment; and when replying to the\ninterrogation of the righteous, whom he had commended for their\nbenevolence, he says, to explain the language he employed, 'Verily\nI say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least\nof these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' He thus teaches us\nthat we are to perform our acts of beneficence and kindness, not\nmerely because others set us the example, nor yet to gratify our own\nfeelings of sympathy or vanity, but to express our gratitude and\nlove to him for his love and compassion _towards_ us. When we are\ngoverned by this motive, which the men of the world would deride as\nthe figment of an enthusiastic imagination, our benevolence becomes\none of the established laws of our moral system, which admits of no\nsuspension or diversion, without occasioning a shock to our sense\nof right and wrong. And when we act on this principle, it is as if\nwe addressed a poor person in the words which I lately read in an\nadmired author:--'I relieve you in your distress, because of the\nnear relation you bear to that blessed Person who has relieved me\nin all mine--my Friend, my Benefactor, my Saviour, my God. I, too,\nwas an hungered, and he gave me the bread of life; I was thirsty,\nand he gave me the water of life; I was a stranger, not belonging\nto the fold, and he took me into it; I was naked, and he clothed me\nwith the robe of righteousness; I was sick, and he visited me, and\ncomforted me, and made me whole; I was in prison, and he came to me,\nloosed the bands of sin and death, and brought me forth unto light,\nliberty, and salvation. You come recommended to me as one of those\nwhom he condescends to call his brethren. Accept, for his sake, what\nI can give you. I would it were more; all I have is too little.'\"\n\n\"There is,\" observed Miss Roscoe, \"a touching force in the language\nof our Lord which no real disciple can withstand; but there are many\nwho have no ability to exemplify the influence which it assumes\nover them, for they have no wealth to distribute; and yet, if they\ndo what they can to testify their love to him, they will be equally\ncommended with the most munificent benefactors of their race. For\nhe by whom actions are weighed and motives are judged--who gives to\nhis servants what proportion of talents he pleases--often sees much\ngiven, where nothing is contributed; and will reward the benevolence\nwhich would gladly contribute if it possessed the means, no less\nthan the munificence which commands the homage and respect of men.\nWhile, then, _we_ are so highly favoured as to be exempted from the\npoverty of the poor and the selfishness of the rich, and profess to\nderive our motives from such a pure source, let us, in the stations\nin which we are placed, and according to the ability which we\npossess, endeavour to promote the comfort and happiness of others,\nremembering that where much is given, much is required; and that\nour Lord will receive every act of kindness which we perform to our\npoorer brethren, as an expression of our love to himself.\"\n\n\"I have occasionally noticed,\" said Mrs. Stevens, \"a strange\nphenomenon in what may be called the religious world--a person\nholding rank as a devout disciple of Jesus Christ, ever ready\nto administer to the spiritual wants of the destitute, but\nsystematically unwilling to help them in their temporal distresses.\"\n\n\"I, too,\" said Mr. Lewellin, \"have known the same strange thing.\nI know a wealthy lady who will forward handsome contributions to\nthe treasurer of a Bible, or Tract, or Missionary Society, but if\napplied to on behalf of a needy person, even though a fellow-member\nof the same church, she will put on such a scowling look, and speak\nin such harsh and repulsive tones, that few will venture to ask her\nfor alms. Her own pastor, on one occasion, ventured to ask her for\na small donation, to assist a poor worthy minister who was in the\ndepth of poverty, and, by excess of importunity, he obtained a few\nshillings; but within a few weeks she sent \u00a350 to the treasurer of a\nsociety for the support of aged and infirm ministers.\"\n\n\"How can we account for such strange conduct, which is so opposed to\nthe injunctions of the Word of God?\"\n\n\"Very easily, Madam,\" replied Mr. Roscoe. \"These public societies\nwill blazon the name of the munificent donor through the British\ndominions in their annual reports; and as such a lady wishes to be\nseen of men when performing her acts of charity, she is willing to\npay the price which is demanded.\"\n\n\"How contemptible! A female Pharisee of the old school embalmed\nwhile living, and reserved as a specimen of the detestable order\nfrom which she is descended, that we may see broadly developed\nthe meanness and odiousness of vanity, which gives liberally to\nthe public institutions of Christianity for self-display and\nself-satisfaction.\"\n\nIn the morning we proceeded to the woodman's cottage, and on our way\novertook the sad procession of his corpse brought home on a hurdle\ncarried by some countrymen, his weeping children and his faithful\ndog walking alongside. He had been found in a pit near the edge of\nthe wood; his dog was sitting beside it, and moaning the fate of his\nmaster, whom he was unwilling to leave, though nearly perishing with\nhunger and cold.\n\nOn the body being brought into the house, the spectacle of grief\nwhich was then exhibited became almost too much for us to endure.\nHis wife wiped off the snow which was still hanging about his face\nand hair, and then kissed his cold black lips, bedewing them with\nher tears, while the children pressed around her, sobbing as they\nlooked on the altered countenance of their father, and then turned\naway to mourn apart. Mr. Roscoe spoke kindly to her, which soothed\nher spirit, and he assured her that she should not want. \"I know\nit, Sir,\" she replied, \"because the Lord is my Shepherd, and he can\nspread a table for me, though my husband is not spared to bring me\nthe provisions.\" He then informed her that a subscription would be\nraised for her support, which he had no doubt would be sufficient to\nenable her to bring up her family respectably. \"O! Sir,\" said the\ntwo eldest boys, \"mother shan't want while God gives us strength\nto work, nor shall the little ones.\" \"Don't cry, mother!\" said the\nyoungest girl, who had just drawn back her finger from touching\nthe face of her father; \"father is gone to see Jemima. Don't cry,\nmother! for that won't make father speak to us again.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE DEATH OF THE WOODMAN.\n\nVol. i. p. 570.]\n\nThe body was interred, with great decency and solemnity, the seventh\nday after his decease, Mr. Ingleby reading the burial service. Such\nwas the esteem in which he was held, and the degree of interest his\ndeath had excited, that one of the largest funeral processions known\nin the village for many years accompanied his remains to the grave,\nand all expressed the most tender sympathy towards his surviving\nfamily. By the exertions of Mr. Roscoe and Mr. Stevens, a large\nsubscription was raised for their benefit; which in some measure\ntended to abate the intensity of their sufferings, though it could\nnot heal the deep wound which had been inflicted on their domestic\nhappiness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMr. Stevens and Mr. Lewellin accompanied me when I went to preach\nat Farmer Pickford's, and on our arrival we found that the barn was\nlighted up and seated for the occasion.\n\n\"There is a power of people,\" said the farmer, on giving me his\nhand, \"come to hear the sarmunt, and no mistake.\" The congregation\nwas much larger than any one had anticipated, and showed a marked\nattention to the sermon, which was on the conversion of Zaccheus,\nfrom Luke xix. 1-9. We intended to return to Fairmount immediately\nafter the service was over, but felt compelled to yield to the kind\nimportunity of the farmer and his wife, and stay to take supper\nwith them. \"A hearty welcome,\" said the warm-hearted farmer, as we\nentered his kitchen, where an ample supper was set out, consisting\nof a joint of roast beef, a boiled turkey and ham, custards in\nabundance, and tankards of the best home-brewed ale.\n\n\"Is this what you call pot-luck, Mr. Pickford?\"\n\n\"No, no; we don't live after this fashion every day; but my wife and\nme made up our minds to give you some of the best on it; and I think\nthat the best the house can afford is all too little in return for\nthe sarmunt you have just given us in the barn.\"\n\nBefore we sat down to supper, Henry Pickford, at my request, asked\nthe blessing, and we then set, with sharpened appetite, to the\nconsumption of the good things before us. The farmer was so much\nexcited, that his wife could not refrain from saying, \"Master, you\ntalk so much that you prevent conversation.\"\n\n\"I beg pardon, but I can't help it. What's in, will come out. I\nnever thought of having the honour of such a company as this.\nGemmen, I hope you will all enjoy yourselves as much as I do.\"\n\n\"We feel very much obliged to you, Mr. Pickford. As you see, we are\nall enjoying ourselves; and I hope we shall live to meet again.\"\n\n\"I trust so, too. I never expected to see such a day as this; and\nI was thinking, when you were preaching in the barn, that when\nZaccheus got up in the morning he little thought what would happen\nto him before night.\"\n\n\"And I was thinking, Sir,\" said Harry, \"when you were preaching,\nthat when Zaccheus got up in the sycamore tree he didn't think he\nshould be converted before he got down.\"\n\n\"It was quick work,\" said the farmer; \"done in no time.\"\n\n\"And I was thinking,\" said Mrs. Pickford, \"that everybody must have\nfelt surprised that Jesus Christ should notice such a notorious\nsinner as Zaccheus was, and should condescend to go and be a guest\nat his house.\"\n\n\"Nobody more so,\" said the farmer, \"than Zaccheus himself. I know he\nfelt just what I feel myself. Why, it is but t'other day, and I was\na wicked, drunken, and swearing fellow, that thought no more about\nmy soul than one of my cows; but now I hate such sins, and my main\nconcarn is to get my soul saved. At times, I can hardly believe my\nown knowledge. What mighty power Jesus Christ has, to bring to, such\nwicked and hardened sinners as Zaccheus and myself!\"\n\n\"And make you new creatures,\" Mr. Lewellin here remarked; \"the\nold things of evil to pass away, and the new things of grace and\nreligion to come, to reform your character and bless your house.\"\n\n\"That's it, and no sham,\" replied the farmer. \"Parson Cole called\nt'other day to have a talk with me. He heard I was gone mad. I told\nhim what Jesus Christ had done for my soul, and how happy I was, and\nwhat a change had come over my Harry and the rest of us. He called\nit all a _lusion_, or some such a word which I didn't understand;\nbut I made out his meaning, and I told him it was a real thing. Poor\nfellow, he could not understand such things--more's the pity; and he\nsaid, by way of mock-making, 'Why, Jesus Christ appears to have a\ngreat liking for you great sinners.' This made a big stir within me,\nand I spoke my mind. 'Yes,' I said to him, 'he is the great and good\nPhysician that comes to cure those that otherwise were incurable.'\nI said to him, 'Does not Paul tell us that he began by saving the\nchief of sinners? and I can say he has not left off doing it yet, as\nI hope he will save me.'\"\n\n\"No one, I think,\" said Mr. Stevens, \"can doubt the ability or\nwillingness of Jesus Christ to save the chief of sinners, who\nreflects on what he has done. He saved Zaccheus, a hard-hearted\nextortioner, who had grown rich by deeds of fraud and oppression;\nand who was justly held in such detestation by the people, that they\nexpressed a high degree of astonishment when they found that Jesus\nChrist was going to be his guest.\"\n\n\"His conversion and salvation makes good what I said to Parson Cole,\nthat Jesus Christ cures the incurable. I was thinking, in the barn,\njust when the sarmunt was over, that if any of the people who knew\nZaccheus had been asked if they thought it possible for any one to\nconvert him into an honest and charitable man, they would all have\nsaid 'No, it can't be done; he is incurable.' But Jesus Christ did\nit in no time.\"\n\n\"And I was thinking,\" said Mrs. Pickford, \"that many a poor widow,\nand many a poor orphan, and many a poor tradesman, listened with\ngreat joy to the report of his conversion, when he set about doing\nwhat he said he would do--give half his goods to the poor, and make\na fourfold restitution to every one he had injured.\"\n\nHaving now finished supper, Mr. Lewellin read the 103d Psalm, after\nwhich I brought the evening to a close by conducting family prayer.\nOn taking leave of the farmer, he said, \"There are three things I\nshall never forget:--I shall never forget your first call, when you\ntalked to me about the worth of my soul; I shall never forget your\npreaching in my barn; and I shall never forget this story about\nZaccheus, which lets us know what Jesus Christ can do in a little\ntime.\"\n\n\"I hope, Sir,\" said Mrs. Pickford, \"you will come again and see us.\nWe shall feel so much pleased and profited too.\"\n\nWe then shook hands with our hospitable entertainers, and returned\nto Fairmount, much gratified with the pleasant evening we had spent.\n\n\n\n\nON APOSTOLICAL SUCCESSION.\n\n\nOn our return from Farmer Pickford's, we heard that the Rev.\nMr. Roscoe and his lady had arrived rather unexpectedly at his\nbrother's mansion; but we regarded it as a flying rumour without\nany foundation. However, the next morning Miss Roscoe called and\nconfirmed the intelligence, and said she was commissioned to\ninvite us to meet them and a select party on the following Monday\nevening. Addressing me, she said, \"You will see a great change in\nmy dear uncle. He is no longer the bigoted Tractarian, contending\nfor legendary dogmas and ceremonial rites; but is now a devout and\nsimple-hearted minister of Jesus Christ.\" We cordially accepted\nthe invitation; and, on the appointed evening, had the pleasure of\nmeeting our esteemed friends all in excellent health and spirits.\nAfter tea, a casual reference having been made by Mrs. John Roscoe\nto Williams' _Missionary Enterprises_,[31] we indulged for some\ntime in a free and easy interchange of remarks on the labours of\nmissionaries in foreign parts. This, somewhat unexpectedly, led to a\ngrave discussion on the popular question of Apostolical Succession.\n\n  [31] _Missionary Enterprises in South Sea Islands._ By Rev. John\n  Williams.\n\n\"In this extraordinary narrative,\" said the Rev. Mr. Roscoe, \"which\nI have read with intense delight, we have a detailed account of\nthe success of Mr. Williams' labours. In islands where an impure\nand demoralizing idolatry, which often demanded human sacrifices,\nexisted from time immemorial, there is now a Christian population,\norganized into churches, observing the sanctity of the Sabbath, and\nthe ordinances of baptism and the Lord's Supper. The printing-press\nis also at work; the Bible is in free circulation; and the natives\nare exerting themselves in various ways for the spread of the gospel\namongst their yet unenlightened brethren of other islands. In fact,\nthere is such a moral and spiritual transformation that it cannot be\naccounted for, otherwise than by the concurrence of a supernatural\npower with the human agency which has been employed in effecting it.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"The results of the labours of Mr. Williams and his\ncoadjutors in the propagation of the gospel, form a very strong\nargument against the dogma of Apostolical Succession, for which\na party in our church are contending with so much Jesuitical\nartifice and overbearing intolerance. Dr. Hook, one of their\nleaders, says--and all the clergy of his school subscribe to his\nsentiments--'Unless Christ be spiritually present with the ministers\nof religion in their services, these services will be in vain.'\nI admit this: but then he adds, what I cannot admit, because it\nis in palpable opposition to indisputable facts--'But the only\nministrations to which he has _promised_ his presence, are to\nthose of the bishops who are successors of the first commissioned\napostles, and the other clergy acting under their sanction and by\ntheir authority. I therefore,' he adds, 'at once abandon expediency,\nsubmission to constituted authority, decency, and order, as the\nground of our defence of our clerical commission, and appeal to the\npromise given by Jesus Christ to his apostles, and which promise, by\ncoming down to us as their successors, marks us _exclusively_ for\nGod's ambassadors.'[32]\n\n  [32] See Dr. Hook's Sermons on Church and Establishments.\n\n\"If we contrast this vain boasting of the Tractarians with\nindisputable facts, how strange does it appear! Here I find from the\nlife of Williams, that instead of studying at Cambridge or Oxford,\nhe was serving as an apprentice to an ironmonger, in the City Road,\nLondon; and, if not a positive infidel, he was addicted to habits\nof impiety, if not intemperance, spending his Sabbath evenings at\na public tavern. On one occasion, a pious female friend saw him\nloitering about in front of the tabernacle in Moorfields, where\nhe expected to meet the companions of his nightly revels; but to\nmortify them because they were not punctual to their engagement, he\nyielded to her entreaties to go with her into the tabernacle and\nhear the sermon.\" Then, taking up the _Life of Williams_,[33] which\nlay on a side table, he read the following passage:--\"Such a state\nof mind was anything but favourable to the serious consideration of\nsacred subjects; and few ever entered the house of God less prepared\nto profit by its services. The Rev. Timothy East, of Birmingham,\noccupied the pulpit that evening, January 30, 1814, and preached\nfrom the weighty question, 'For what shall it profit a man, if he\nshall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a\nman give in exchange for his soul?' (Mark viii. 36, 37). The word\ncame with power, and with demonstration of the Holy Spirit upon the\nmind of his youthful auditor.\" \"Now this young man,\" continued Mr.\nRoscoe, \"reclaimed from the error of his ways by what Paul calls\nthe foolishness of preaching, after tarrying at home long enough\nto give evidence of the genuineness of his conversion to God, and\nreceive instruction to fit him for the work to which he had devoted\nhimself, goes to the South Seas, learns the language of the natives,\nand commences the work of evangelizing them; and this book is a\nfaithful record and report of his extraordinary labours. He received\nno episcopal ordination in the regular line of descent; but was\nhe not God's ambassador of grace and mercy to these once savage\nand cannibal islanders? and if so, Dr. Hook asserts what is not\nabsolutely true, that none are God's ambassadors except the clergy\nof the Church of England and Papal priests.\"\n\n  [33] _The Life of the Rev. John Williams._ By the Rev. E. Prout.\n  Snow, London.\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"The minister who preached the last anniversary\nsermons in my chapel, in behalf of our Sabbath-schools, informed me,\nwhen we were chatting about apostolic succession, that he knew the\necclesiastic ancestors of Mr. Williams, and gave me his pedigree,\nremarking that he was descended from 'a succession of bishops, who\nneither had palaces nor seats in the House of Lords.' Mr. Jay,\nof Bath, was the instrument employed by the Spirit of God in the\nconversion of the Rev. O. A. Jeary, of Rodborough, Gloucestershire,\nwho was employed by the Holy Spirit in the conversion of the Rev. T.\nEast, and he was employed by the same Divine agent in the conversion\nof the Rev. J. Williams. We thus see that the moral revolutions and\nspiritual transformations which have taken place in the South Sea\nIslands are not to be ascribed, in the slightest degree, either\nsubordinately or instrumentally, to the intervention of Episcopal\npower or authority. Not one employed in any department of this\nwondrous work, occupied a position in the regular line of descent\nfrom the apostles, nor had any one of them received ordination from\nan Episcopal bishop.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"A Tractarian who admits the truthfulness of Mr.\nWilliams' report of the success of his own labours, and those of his\ncoadjutors, would probably look on this as an exceptional case to\nthe established law of order prevalent in the church, which we all\nknow requires ordination to precede preaching or the administration\nof the sacraments. And I see no very strong objection to this view\nof the matter, because we find that, even in apostolic times, the\ndisciples who were scattered at the persecution of Stephen went to\ndifferent places preaching the Word, though they were not ordained\nto the work as the apostles were (Acts xi. 19, 20).\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"I admit there is some force in the popular\nsaying--'There is no rule without an exception;' and I admit,\nalso, that the exception establishes rather than subverts the\nrule from which it is a deviation; but then there must be some\nproof that it is really an exception. Regarding the case of the\ndispersed disciples to which you have referred, I see no evidence\nin confirmation of its being a deviation from any fixed rule of\ngovernment established within the pale of the church, because I\nfind other cases reported which bear such a strong analogy to it,\nthat I am compelled to believe that no absolute and undeviating\nregulations on this subject can be found in the New Testament. We\nfind for example (Acts i. 26), that Matthias was chosen to the\napostleship as the successor of Judas; but it does not appear from\nthe record of the transaction, that he was ordained to this office\nby the other eleven apostles with whom he took rank. Again, the\ncase of Paul is still more decisive against the Tractarian dogma\nthat no one can preach or administer the sacraments with efficacy,\nunless he derive his official authority and power to do so from the\napostles, or some one to whom they have delegated their authority\nand power. He assumed the designation of an apostle, and did the\nwork of an apostle, some years before he saw any one of the twelve,\nacting as independently of them, as they did of him; and when they\nmet at Jerusalem they did not require him to submit to ordination\nadministered by them: and, at a subsequent period of his history,\nwhen he was called by the Holy Spirit (Acts xiii. 1-5) to go and\npreach the Word of God in the synagogues of the Jews in Seleucia\nand other places, he[34] was set apart to _this work_, not to _any\noffice_, by _subordinate members_ of the church at Antioch, termed\nprophets and teachers, who, when they had fasted and prayed, and\nlaid their hands on Paul and Barnabas, sent them away. These things\noccurred just when a new system of government was introduced into\nthe church, that was to be perpetuated through all future ages.\nHere, then, we see pious laymen sallying forth and preaching in\ndifferent places the Lord Jesus, with such power that many believed\nand turned unto him (Acts xi. 19-21); and we see also some holding\nthe highest office in the Christian church without undergoing the\nceremony of consecration by pre-existing officials, and yet these\nfacts are recorded in Scripture without any notification that they\nare exceptions to fixed and absolute laws. Such a notification would\nhave proved a decisive evidence in confirmation of such laws had\nthey been established. We thus see that the plain, indisputable\nfacts of the New Testament are in direct opposition to the high\nchurch principles of our Tractarians.\"\n\n  [34] If we suppose, with some of the Tractarians, that he was\n  now ordained to the _apostolic office_, then we have a series of\n  irregularities: he labours for years before he receives ordination,\n  and when he does receive it, it is not from the hands of _apostles_,\n  but some very _inferior officials_ connected with the church at\n  Antioch.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"I have long maintained that this dogma of\napostolical succession is an ecclesiastical monopoly which has\nno sanction from the Word of the Lord, and it is too selfish in\nits nature to harmonize with the free and generous spirit of the\nChristian dispensation. If it be the will of Jesus Christ, the\nsupreme Legislator of his church, that no one shall preach the\ngospel or administer the sacraments with spiritual efficacy until he\nis ordained to the work by an apostle, or some bishop who can trace\nhis lineal descent from an apostle with absolute certainty, how can\nsuch a restricted law as this be known unless he expressly enacts it\neither by an immediate revelation of his will, or through the medium\nof the inspired writers? No one pretends that an express revelation\nhas ever been given in reference to such a restriction, and I have\nnever been able to find an implied regulation in any chapter or\nverse of the New Testament. To say that we, and we exclusively, are\nthe priests of the Lord, and, if you wish to be saved, you must\nintrust your souls to our ghostly power--that we, and we only, have\nthe keys of the kingdom of heaven--that we open and shut by virtue\nof the authority delegated to us by St. Peter and St. Paul--is\nnothing less on the part of the Papal and Tractarian clergy than\na monopoly of official authority and power, unsanctioned by the\nauthority of Jesus Christ, and a subtle manoeuvre to magnify their\nown order. That a Papist should believe this, who is trained in the\nbelief that the laws and regulations of his church are absolute\nand unchangeable, is not surprising; but that a Protestant should\nbelieve it, who has free access to his Bible, and been taught to\nhold its absolute and exclusive authority on all articles of faith\nand practice, is indeed a moral paradox which I cannot explain.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"Yes, Sir, it is a monopoly which has no sanction\nfrom Jesus Christ, the supreme Legislator in his church, and one\nwhich entails repulsive and fearful consequences. It compels its\nadvocates to shun all Christian alliance with many of the excellent\nof the earth, and drives them into the closest connection with many\nwho are moral miscreants, men of impurity, sceptics, and scoffers.\nSuch men as Chalmers and Wardlaw, Robert Hall and William Jay, are\nbranded as usurpers in the church, with whom it would be a sort of\ntreason to associate, and whose ministrations must be denounced as\na fatal curse to their deluded adherents, while those clergymen who\nhave received the so-called apostolical ordination, however immoral\nthey may be in conduct, or heterodox in teaching, are to be revered\nand obeyed as the true and faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. There\nis in all this something so repugnant to common-sense and Christian\nfeeling--so derogatory to personal dignity and pure taste--and so\ncalculated to excite the contempt of infidels against the whole\nclerical order, that I am astonished how any one who cherishes the\nslightest degree of reverence for the authority of Jesus Christ, or\nwho has imbibed a particle of his pure and loving spirit, can submit\nto its dominion and governing power, especially when he is told\nthat, _if he has not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his_.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"Your very just and forcible remarks remind me of\na paragraph in the _Edinburgh Review_,[35] which I marked for\nreference, and which, by your permission, I will read: it is an\namplification of your remarks on this very objectionable feature\nof Tractarianism:--'The strongest and most irrefragable argument\nagainst the principles held by the Tractarians appears to us not\ntheir absurdity, though that is flagrant enough, but their essential\nuncharitableness. We stand absolutely confounded at the fatuity\nof men, who, with the New Testament in their hands, profess to\nbe willing to fraternize with Rome, but cannot fraternize with\nLutherans and Presbyterians; who affect to consider the points of\ndifference between the Church of Spain and the Church of England\nless vital than those between the Church of England and that of\nScotland; who, for the sake of such a figment as apostolical\nsuccession and other figments as shadowy, remorselessly exclude a\nlarge portion of the communities of Christendom from the very name,\nrights, and privileges of Christian churches; who can imagine the\ngreat doctrines in which both they and their opponents coincide,\nand which form the theme and triumph of inspired eloquence, of\nless moment than doctrines and rites on which the Scripture is\nominously silent, or which seem to stand in shocking contrast to the\nmoral grandeur and magnanimous spirit of the Christian institute.\nYet so it is; and we need no other evidence of the degrading and\nnarrowing effects of such principles than that this most melancholy\nresult of them should inspire so little sorrow, or rather should\nbe so frequently proclaimed more in triumph than with regret.\nThe generality of the Oxford school proclaim the consequences of\ntheir principles not only with an arrogance which ill befits such\nequivocal conclusions, but without a particle of sorrow, which, if\ntrue, they would naturally excite in the breast of every benevolent\nman.'\"\n\n  [35] April, 1843.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"As they are, in common with their Papal\nbrethren, intolerant on _principle_, and that _principle one_\nwhich, in their opinion, involves the honour of the church, and the\nfinal happiness of the soul of man, they cannot feel any regret,\nwhen adverting to its necessary consequences in its application to\nother churches and sects, without being self-convicted of positive\ninconsistency; they must adhere to their principle of exclusive\nintolerance, in spite of all the odium it may cast on their theory\nof belief. And this stern and steady adherence to a principle\nwhich compels them, as by the force of a Divine law, to prefer\nfraternizing with the Papacy, with all its arrogant claims, its\nassumed prerogatives, and its repugnant ceremonial regulations,\nrather than fraternize with their Protestant brethren who contend\nearnestly for the pure faith of the New Testament, is to me a\nconclusive proof that their theory of belief is anti-Christian in\nits character and tendency, as the unerring test may be applied to\n_principles_ as well as to _persons_--'_If any man have not the\nSpirit of Christ, he is none of his_,' Rom. viii. 9.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"If we are to receive the doctrine of\napostolical succession as correct, we must then admit as a fact\nwhat to every reflecting mind will appear most incongruous and\nextraordinary. The theory held by our Tractarian clergy in common\nwith the Romish Church, is, That each bishop, from the apostolical\ntimes, has received in his consecration a mysterious gift, and also\ntransmits to every priest in his ordination a mysterious gift,\nindicated in the respective offices by the awful words, 'Receive\nthe Holy Ghost;' that on this the right of priests to assume\ntheir functions, and the preternatural grace of the sacraments\nadministered by them, depends; that bishops, once consecrated, are\ninvested with the remarkable property of transmitting the gift\nto others; that this has been the case from the primitive age\ntill now; that this high gift has been incorruptibly transmitted\nthrough the hands of impure, profligate, heretical ecclesiastics,\nas ignorant and flagitious as any of their lay contemporaries;\nthat, in fact, these gifts are perfectly irrespective of the moral\ncharacter and qualifications both of bishop and priest; and reside\nin equal integrity in a Latimer or a Bonner--a virtuous man or a\nprofligate--an imbecile or a genius.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"I believe, Sir,\" said he, addressing the Rev.\nMr. Roscoe, \"you were once a strenuous advocate of this theory\nof apostolical succession; will you permit me to ask you a few\nquestions, which may tend to expose its gross absurdity--its\nshameless jugglery to magnify the glory of an ambitious priesthood,\nwho evince more zeal and devotion in behalf of their own order than\nthey do for the purity and spiritual triumphs of the Christian\nfaith?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Yes, Sir; I confess, with some degree of\nshame, that I once entertained the belief that some mysterious gift\nwas transmitted from the bishop to the priest at the time of his\nordination.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"Was this gift, in your opinion or belief,\ntransmitted to the intellect or to the heart, or to both? Or in\nother words, did it give additional acuteness to your intellectual\nfaculty--extend the range of your knowledge of Divine truth, or did\nit increase the purity of your soul, and raise your affections to a\nhigher pitch of devotional feeling?\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"To be candid, Sir, I took for granted the truth\nof the doctrine as to the mysterious transmission of a mysterious\nsomething; but when I reflected on it, as I sometimes did, even\nbefore I was rescued from the meshes of Tractarian delusions, I\nfelt as though my mind were revolving in a circle: I could see\nnothing; I could feel nothing. I was the same man in knowledge, in\nintelligence, in taste, and in devotional feeling, after the solemn\nwords, _Receive the Holy Ghost_, were uttered, as I was before they\nfell from the lips of the bishop.\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"It amounts then simply to this, and it is of no use\nto attempt to disguise the fact, that what is deemed the _essential\npart_ of the ordination service, is either a solemn farce, or it is\na positive reality, and in that case it must be received without a\nparticle of evidence in its support. The bishop who transmits the\ngift is not conscious that he possesses what he pretends to give;\nand the person who receives it is not conscious of receiving it at\nthe time it is imparted: both the giver and receiver are in the\nsame condition of unconsciousness, during the mysterious process of\ngiving and receiving the inexplicable and inconceivable something,\non which the authority of the priest to officiate, and the vital\nefficacy of all his ministrations, are made dependent. This is\nmost marvellous! more like an extravagant invention to answer some\nspecial device, than a sober reality of Divine appointment.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"I have no doubt but a scrupulous and\nconscientious clergyman will sometimes feel a painful degree of\nperplexity when musing on the very mysterious process of bestowing\nand receiving this gift, so essential to the identity of his\npriestly character, and the vital efficacy of his official labours;\nand should he begin to doubt, as possibly he may, whether the\nbishop actually bestowed on him the gift, or whether he actually\nreceived it, his doubts must remain, and will very likely increase\nand multiply, because no living oracle, or conclusive evidence, or\nlogical reasoning can afford him any relief. Though I am not very\nfond of introducing caustic irony in the discussion of such a grave\nquestion, yet the following paragraph from the _Review_ already\nquoted may not be inappropriate:--\n\n\"'We can imagine the perplexity of a presbyter thus cast in doubt\nas to whether or not he has ever had the invaluable 'gift' of\napostolical succession conferred upon him. As that 'gift' is\nneither tangible nor visible, the subject neither of experience\nnor consciousness--as it cannot be known by any 'effects' produced\nby it--he may imagine, unhappy man! that he has been regenerating\ninfants by baptism, when he has been simply sprinkling them with\nwater. 'What is the matter?' the spectator of his distractions might\nask. 'What have you lost?' 'Lost!' would be the reply; 'I fear I\nhave lost my apostolical succession; or rather, my misery is, that\nI do not know and cannot tell whether I ever had it to lose!' It is\nof no avail here to suggest the usual questions--'When did you see\nit last?' 'When were you last conscious of possessing it?' What a\npeculiar property is that, of which, though so invaluable--nay, on\nwhich the whole efficacy of the Christian ministry depends--a man\nhas no positive evidence to show whether he ever had it or not!\nwhich, if ever conferred, was conferred without his knowledge; and\nwhich, if it could be taken away, would still leave him ignorant\nnot only when, where, and how the theft was committed, but whether\nit had ever been committed or not! The sympathizing friend might\nprobably remind him, that as he was not sure he had ever had it, so,\n_perhaps_, he still had it without knowing it. '_Perhaps_,' he would\nreply, 'but it is certainty I want.' Such a perplexed presbyter, and\ndoubtless there are many such, is in a regular fix; and there he\nmust remain, calling on his idols for help, but, like the priests of\nBaal, calling in vain, as there is no power in heaven above, or in\nthe earth beneath, which can rescue a man from the terror of his own\ndelusions, till the delusions themselves are abandoned as visionary\nand absurd.'\"\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"This question of apostolical succession, when\ncleared of its legendary mysticism, and brought within the pale\nof sober reality, may be employed as a very cogent argument in\nconfirmation of the historic truthfulness of the Christian faith\nand its institutions, in refutation of some of the objections of\ninfidelity. 'The existence of such an order of _men as Christian\nministers_, continually from the apostles to this day, is perhaps,'\nas Archbishop Whately remarks,[36] 'as complete a moral certainty\nas any historical fact can be; because it is plain that if, at the\npresent day, or a century ago, or ten centuries ago, a number of men\nhad appeared in the world, professing (as the clergy do now) to hold\na recognized office in a Christian church, to which they had been\nregularly appointed as successors to others, whose predecessors, in\nlike manner, had held the same, and so on, from the times of the\napostles--if, I say, such a pretence had been put forth by a set of\nmen assuming an office which no one had ever heard of before, it is\nplain that they would at once have been refuted and exposed. And as\nthis will apply equally to each successive generation of Christian\nministers, till we come up to the time when the institution was\nconfessedly new--that is, to the time when Christian ministers were\nappointed by the apostles, who professed themselves eye-witnesses\nof the resurrection--we have a standing monument in the Christian\nministry of the fact of that event as having been proclaimed\nimmediately after the time when it was said to have occurred. This,\ntherefore, is fairly brought forward as an evidence of its truth.'\"\n\n  [36] Whately on the _Kingdom of Christ_, p. 180.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"Yes, Sir, the unbroken succession of the\nministerial order, from the times of the apostles till now, is,\nin my opinion, an irrefutable evidence that Christianity took\nits rise at the period of its asserted origin, and that we have\nthe _essential substance_, at least, of the same faith which the\napostles established in Jerusalem, Ephesus, and other places; and\nthat this same faith is administered by a distinct order of men,\nwhose business it is, and ever has been, to propagate it and hand\nit down to the next generation succeeding them. As an argument of\nconfirmation and defence in relation to the historic certainty of\nour faith and its institutions, it is of great value and importance;\nbut, as Whately very justly remarks in his incomparable _Essays_,\nSuccessionists are guilty of a fallacy in the use which they make\nof it--'The fallacy consists in confounding together the unbroken\napostolical succession of _a Christian ministry generally_, and the\nsame succession in an unbroken line of _this_ or _that individual\nminister_.' The existence of the order may be traced up to the\ntimes of the apostles; but this supplies no evidence in proof that\neach, or any one minister of the order now living is a legitimate\ndescendant, in the genealogical line, from either of the two\nfavourite apostles, St. Peter or St. Paul. And hence the argument,\nwhich is a splendid triumph to Christianity, is a dumb oracle to\nTractarianism.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"When reading the Oxford tracts, and some\nother publications of the same school, I have often felt astonished\nthat the writers are not startled when advocating their favourite\ndogma; because, if they could establish it as a positive truth,\nthey would prove self-destroyers--be guilty, in fact, of what I may\nterm ecclesiastical suicide. They maintain, first, that no one is\nduly qualified to take office in the church of Christ--to preach\nand administer the sacraments--until he is ordained by some bishop,\nwho can trace up his descent either to the apostle Peter or Paul.\nAnd they maintain, in the next place, that, when so ordained, they\nare in verity God's ambassadors to men; but, if not so ordained,\nthe laity cannot expect to receive any spiritual benefit from\ntheir official labours. Or, in other words, each clergyman of our\nchurch must be in the unbroken line of succession from the times of\nthe apostles, or he holds an office to which he has no legitimate\nappointment, and administers sacraments which cannot take effect.\nA Tractarian, then, _is_ either _in_ the unbroken line, or he _is\nnot in_ it--if _in_ the unbroken line, all is _right_; if _not in_,\nall is _wrong_. If _in_, the people are blest; if _not in_, they\nare unblest. He _believes_ he is _in_, but this does not prove that\nhe is; he may be mistaken, self-deceived, and quite unintentionally\ndeceiving others. And he cannot know he is _in_, unless he can\nprove it, and prove it as all facts of history are proved, by moral\nevidence. He may be able to prove his own ordination, and perhaps\nthe ordination of the bishop by whom he was ordained, and also a\nfew preceding bishops; but as an intelligent and conscientious\nman, he ought not to administer the sacraments, or appear as a\nclergyman amongst the people, till he has, with the clearest and\nmost unequivocal evidence, traced back the successive ordinations\nof the bishops through the long lapse of past ages, up to the\ntime when Paul or Peter conferred the rite of ordination on the\nbishops to succeed them. This done, he may remain in the priest's\noffice; but till this is done, on his own principle of belief and\nreasoning, he ought to hold his peace--he ought to do nothing;\nbecause he has no evidence that the laity can derive any spiritual\nbenefit from his ministrations. Thus his faith, and its consequent\nreasoning, impose silence and inaction, till he has performed this\nprocess of historical research; or, if he continue to labour, it\nwill inevitably be in a state of ceaseless disquietude, because,\nceaseless doubt.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Roscoe._--\"Soon after Dr. Hook preached his celebrated\nsermon on _'Hear_ THE _church_,' I delivered one on the same\nsubject. On leaving the pulpit one of my hearers, a shrewd clever\nman, followed me into the vestry, and, in the presence of my\nwardens, asked me to hang up under the tablet containing the\nten commandments, a genealogical pedigree of my ecclesiastical\ndescent; assigning as a reason for such an application, that he\nand his family had an interest in knowing it, as I had taught them\nto believe that the efficacy of the sacraments on their souls\ndepended on my ecclesiastical legitimacy. I felt greatly mortified\nby his application, and especially when my senior warden said\nsuch a document, he had no doubt, would prove very satisfactory\nto many--and would tend to allay the disquietudes of those who\nsometimes complained that they derived no spiritual benefits from\nthe church sacraments.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"This is what ought to be done in self-defence,\nand to satisfy the scrupulous anxiety of others; but who can\ndo it? that is the perplexing question. Dr. Hook says, and his\nasseverations are echoed by his fellow-Tractarians, 'the prelates\nwho at this present time rule the churches of these realms were\nvalidly ordained by others, who, by means of _an unbroken spiritual\ndescent_ of ordination, derived their mission from the apostles\nand from our Lord. This continual descent is evident to every one\nwho chooses to investigate it. Let him read the _catalogues_ of\nour bishops, ascending up to the most remote period. There is not\na bishop, priest, or deacon amongst us who cannot, _if he please_,\ntrace his own spiritual descent from St. Peter or St. Paul.'\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"Dr. Hook is a very rash man to give such a\nboastful utterance, when he knows, or ought to know, that this\ntracing of a spiritual descent is an absolute impossibility;[37]\nit never has been done, and every attempt to do it has proved a\nmortifying failure.\"\n\n  [37] \"There is not a minister in all Christendom\" (says Archbishop\n  Whately, and he is an authority on this question), \"who is able\n  to trace up with any approach to certainty, his own spiritual\n  pedigree. The sacramental virtue dependent on the imposition of\n  hands, with a due observance of apostolical usages, by a bishop\n  himself duly consecrated, after having been in like manner baptized\n  into the church and ordained deacon and priest--this sacramental\n  virtue, if a single link in the chain be faulty, must be utterly\n  nullified ever after in respect to all the links hanging on that\n  one. For, if a bishop has not been duly consecrated, or had not been\n  previously rightly ordained, his ordinations are null, and so are\n  the ministrations of those ordained by him, and their ordinations of\n  others, and so on without end. The poisonous taint of informality,\n  if it once creep in undetected, will spread the infection of nullity\n  to an indefinite and irremediable extent.\n\n  \"And who can undertake to pronounce that, during that long\n  period usually designated as the dark ages, no such taint was\n  ever introduced? Irregularities could not have been wholly\n  excluded without a perpetual miracle; and that no such miraculous\n  interference existed we have even historical proof. Amidst the\n  numerous corruptions of doctrine and of practice, and gross\n  superstitions that crept in during those ages, we find recorded\n  descriptions not only of the profound ignorance and profligacy of\n  life of many of the clergy, but also of the grossest irregularities\n  in respect of discipline and form. We read of bishops consecrated\n  when mere children--of men officiating who barely knew their\n  letters--of prelates expelled and others put in their places\n  by violence--of illiterate and profligate laymen, and habitual\n  drunkards, admitted to holy orders; and, in short, of the prevalence\n  of every kind of disorder, and reckless disregard of the decency\n  which the apostle enjoins. It is inconceivable that any one, even\n  moderately acquainted with history, can feel a certainty, or\n  any approach to certainty, that, amidst all this confusion and\n  corruption, every requisite form was, in every instance, strictly\n  adhered to by men, many of them openly profane and secular,\n  unrestrained by public opinion through the gross ignorance of\n  the population among which they lived; and that no one not duly\n  consecrated or ordained was admitted to sacred offices.\"\n\n  The inference which the Archbishop* draws from these historic\n  statements is this: 'The ultimate consequence must be that any\n  one who sincerely believes that his claim to the benefits of the\n  gospel-covenant depends on his own minister's claim to the supposed\n  sacramental virtue of true ordination, and this again on perfect\n  apostolical succession as described, must be involved, in proportion\n  as he reads, and inquires, and reflects, and reasons on the subject,\n  in the most distressing doubt and perplexity.\"\n\n    * See _Essays on the Kingdom of Christ_, pp. 176-9.\n\n_Rev. Mr. Guion._--\"Two things in relation to this question of\nspiritual descent are certain, at any rate they are as certain as\nany positive and negative evidence can make anything certain--first,\nour Tractarian clergy cannot prove their spiritual descent, and\ntherefore, on their own principle, they have no authority to\nofficiate in the church; and, secondly, if they could do this\nthing, which has never yet been done, they cannot prove that they\nare invested with the mysterious gift on which the validity of\ntheir ministrations depends. Therefore, on their own principle, the\nlaity can derive no spiritual benefits from their labours. They\nare a pompous order of self-created exclusionists, uttering great\nswelling words of vanity, when, on their own principle, they are\nself-convicted usurpers in the priestly office; and, while vaunting\nthat they, and they only, are God's ambassadors to man, they decline\nproducing their commission of appointment, even when pressed to do\nso, though they say they could easily do it if they pleased.\"[38]\n\n  [38] It is a somewhat ominous sign that neither Dr. Hook nor any of\n  his brethren has been pleased to do this very easy thing, though\n  they have often been challenged to do it, as essential to their\n  priestly identity and the validity of their ministrations.\n\n_Mr. Roscoe._--\"But after all, the practical influence of those\nhigh church principles, constitutes, in my opinion, the most cogent\nargument against them. We shall find that pernicious as they are to\nthe clergy, they are still more fatal to the laity, though they do\nnot always operate with the same uniformity of result. Some they\nlull into a callous apathy and indifference, from which nothing\ncan rouse them to the soul-stirring question--WHAT MUST I DO TO BE\nSAVED? They have unbounded confidence in their parson, that he is\nin the regular line of succession--firmly believe in the fact of\ntheir regeneration in baptism, as they have seen the public record\nof its performance--and calculate that when death comes, a despatch\nwill bring the duly qualified official to give them absolution and\nthe sacrament, and then the debt of nature may be paid without\nreluctance, as their peace with God is settled, on the authority of\nthe unalterable laws of the church, of which they are _bona fide_\nmembers and devoted advocates.\"\n\n_Mr. Stevens._--\"I knew an instance in which these high church\nprinciples had a contrary effect; they plunged an old friend of my\nown into a state of mental perplexity and depression, which was\nnot only painful but appalling. This friend was a sincere and a\nconscientious member of the Church of England, and a firm believer\nin the Tractarian doctrines of the Oxford school; but happening to\nmeet with Archbishop Whately's _Essays on the Kingdom of Christ_,\nhe began to entertain some doubts that he was not quite so safe, in\nrelation to eternity, as he had been accustomed to believe. On one\noccasion, he confidentially disclosed his fears and his misgivings\nto myself, confessing that they arose from the degree of uncertainty\nattachable to the legitimacy of the spiritual descent of his Rector\nfrom the apostles, and the consequent validity or invalidity of the\nadministrations of the sacraments. I wished to direct his attention\nto a safer way to final happiness than through the medium of the\nsacraments; but his predeliction for the church and its ordinances\nwas so inveterate, that I could not succeed; his long-cherished\nassociations prevented the free exercise of his reasoning faculty,\nand in this state of perplexity and depression, he lived for years:\nhe died a few months since, but how he died, I know not, though I\nfear he died under the spell of the awful delusion in which he had\nlived.\"\n\n_Mrs. John Roscoe._--\"I recollect a somewhat similar occurrence,\nhappening to a near and dear friend of my own, but with a very\ndifferent result. She also was a member of the Church of England,\nand a great admirer of the Oxford tracts, which she read, and, I\nmay say, studied with close attention, having no more doubt of the\nreality of baptismal regeneration than she had of the fact that\nher Vicar had administered it to her. However, some circumstances,\nthough I never heard what they were, led her to suspect that there\nwas a difficulty, if not an impossibility, for any one minister of\nthe Episcopal church being able to trace up with absolute certainty\nhis spiritual descent from either of the apostles, and for a while\nshe felt perfectly bewildered. At length she was advised by a pious\nfriend to turn from man to God: to put aside the Oxford tracts, and\nsearch the Scriptures, to exercise her own judgment when doing so,\nand pray to the Holy Spirit for wisdom and grace to lead her in the\nright way to mental peace and to heaven. She did so, and now she has\nmade her escape from the delusive errors of Tractarianism, and feels\nsecure, because she now builds her hope of pardon and salvation,\nnot on sacraments or ceremonies, but on Christ, the sure foundation\nwhich the Lord hath laid, and not man.\"\n\n_Rev. Mr. Ingleby._--\"This painful controversy which is shaking\nour church from its centre to its remotest extremities--alienating\nfriendships, making us a by-word amongst Papists, and a scorn\namongst infidels--will, I fear, continue to rage for a long time\nto come; but I am sanguine in my anticipations of the final issue.\nOur church was slumbering in ease and security, paying but little\nattention to her responsibilities to her Divine Lord and Master; but\nthese corruptions of heresy and error have roused her, and called\nupon her faithful sons to come forward in the defence and support\nof the truths of the New Testament. If we act wisely, we shall be\nprepared to surrender any tenet or mode of expression incorporated\nin our prescribed formularies or other articles of belief, which\nhas not the direct sanction of the Word of God; and shall evince a\ngreater zeal for the extension and for the triumphs of Christianity\nherself, than the honour and glory of our own church or its\nministerial orders. If we can bring our minds to this resolve, and\nif we rely on Him who is the invisible Head of his visible church,\nwe need fear no evil; the truth, however obscured for a time, will\nat length shine forth, and the fabrics of human superstition and\ndevice totter and fall like the dwelling of the _foolish man, which\nbuilt his house upon the sand_.\"\n\n  END OF VOL. I.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nMinor typographical errors have been corrected without note.\nIrregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as\nprinted.\n\nThe illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up\nparagraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match\nthe page number in the List of Illustrations.\n\nMismatched quotes are not fixed if it's not sufficiently clear where\nthe missing quote should be placed.\n\nIn the table of contents the transcriber has changed the page number\nfor \"A Village Funeral\" from 187 to 186.\n\nPage 105: The page number in the caption has been changed from 165 to\n105 to match the table of contents order.\n\nFor \"Spiritual Regeneration a Reality\",  the page number has been\nchanged from 337 to 336.\n\nPage 324 The transcriber has added the word \"to\" after the word\n\"wrath\":  \"Will they, if warned to flee from the wrath come,\napprehend any danger ...\"\n\nAlso on page 324 \"though he lives and his a sceptic or a blasphemer\"--\nThe transcriber has changed \"his\" to \"he is\".","title":"The Sheepfold and the Common; Or, Within and Without. Vol. 1 (of 2)","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":218608}