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and admiration of this light, will know no distance, but puts itself heedlessly into that flame, wherein it perishes! How many bouts it fetched, every one nearer than the other, ere it made this last venture! and now that merciless fire, taking no notice of the affection of an over-fond client, hath suddenly consumed it. Thus do those bold and busy spirits, who will needs draw too near unto that inaccessible light, and look into things too wonderful for them, so long do they hover about the secret counsels of the Almighty, till the wings of their presumptuous conceits be scorched, and their daring curiosity hath paid them with everlasting destruction. O Lord! let me be blessed with the knowledge of what thou hast revealed; let me content myself to adore thy Divine wisdom in what thou hast not revealed; so let me enjoy thy light, that I may avoid thy fire.

UPON OCCASION OF A REDBREAST COMING INTO HIS CHAMBER.

PRETTY bird! how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal, and at night must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging! what a shame it is for me that see before me such liberal provisions of my God, and find myself set warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness! Had I so little certainty of my harbour and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful! how little list should I have to make music to Thee or myself! Surely, thou camest not hither without a providence; God sent thee not so much to delight as to shame me, but all in a conviction of my sullen unbelief, who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident. Reason and faith have not done so much in me as, in thee, mere instinct of nature; want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy here, than the foresight of better things

maketh me.

O God! thy providence is not impaired by those powers thou hast given me above these brute things; let not my greater helps hinder me from a holy security and comfortable reliance upon thee.

UPON THE SIGHT OF AN OLD UNTHATCHED COTTAGE.

THERE cannot be a truer emblem of crazy old age than mouldered and clay walls, a thin uncovered roof, bending studs, dark and broken windows; in short, a house ready to fall on the head of the indweller. The best body is but a cottage: if newer and better tim

bered, yet it is such as age will equally impair, and make thus ragged and ruinous; or, before that, perhaps casualty of fire or tempest, or violence of an enemy. One of the chief cares of men is to dwell well: some build for themselves fair but not strong; others build for posterity, strong, but not fair, not high; but happy is that man that builds for eternity, as strong, as fair, as high, as the glorious contignations of heaven.

(To le continued.)

THE INFIDEL.

ONE cloudy morning, in the dark month of November, several persons rushed to the door of an hotel to secure a passage in an American stage-coach, just then announced.

An elderly gentleman, of a calm, dignified aspect, first handed to the carriage two young ladies, who, from their striking resemblance, were justly supposed to be twin sisters. Next, a tall, elegant young man handed to gant. Two gentlemen, one of rough exterior, the other a fair and rather delicate young man, occupied the middle seat. When the necessary bustle of servants with baggage, &c., was over, and the stage on the road, a long silence ensued. Each sat scrutinizing his fellow-traveller with the eye of a physiognomist.

the front seat a sister also tall and ele

This silence was first broken by the fair youth, who addressed his rough companion with that very familiar question, “What think you of the weather, captain?" "Stormy, stormy," he replied, "if I can judge from observations coach, like a landsman at sea, is in an awkon the larboard quarter; but a sailor in a stageward position, and a poor judge of wind and weather. Had it not been for important business, I assure you, Mr Romain, you would not have met me here; I would rather have gone to New York in a ferry-boat. Oh, indeed, Mr Romain, I had rather swing on the topsailyard in a storm, and would even prefer a dodge beand rattling over rocks, and through ditchestween waterspout and iceberg to this jolting it is worse than dull prose; but there's excitement, poetry, in a sea-game, whether we gain or lose. Oh yes! excitement, poetry of the most exquisite kind."

"I thank you, captain," said their elderly companion, in a kind tone, "for solving a problem in my mind, laconically and satisfac torily. I have often wondered that men dearments of home and refined society, to suffer should so readily sacrifice the thousand enbut now I see how it is- men love excitement, peril and privation on the mountain wave;' and will make costly sacrifices to obtain what they love."

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True," said Mr Romain, " I learned more

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Yes, but I taught you," interrupted the captain, "I taught you when on board the William Henry."

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some watering place, or come to anchor, just outside some brandy harbour, or we shall get an addition to our crew, and so lose the story. after all."

The whole party responded to the sentiment of the captain, and Mr Romain commenced as follows:

"We were mutual teachers," said Mr Romain, gravely. “You taught me, Van Husan, many of the wonders of the sea; and as you, "My father was not religiously educated, in your sailor-like manner, quoted portions of and entered life, as many young men do, withsacred Scripture in your descriptions of the out any fixed religious principles. He consisublimity of the ocean, a chill of awe oftendered it a matter of very little importance what crept over me. I felt, in spite of my principles, that no language but that of inspiration could do justice to the sublimity of ocean into tempest wrought'-that it was Jehovah who commandeth and lifteth up the waves thereof that the Bible alone can describe the sea when it ceases from raging: He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still." The captain turned on him a look of surprise and contempt. "You talk of Scripture and inspiration, Mr Romain," said he; "pray, where did you learn your creed?"

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"At the very threshold of heaven, the deathbed of a Christian mother."

"Pardon my mistake, sir," said the captain, with a very sober face, "I thought you were an infidel."

You thought right, Van Husan," said Romain, "I was one; I acknowledge it with a blush. Yet how could I be otherwise, educated as I was in the very lap of scepticism by a misguided father, who spared no efforts to infuse into my young mind the poison with which his own was so fatally imbued!-I say fatally, for he lived and died a professed disciple of Voltaire.”

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a man believed, or whether he had any system of faith, provided he did not commit any overt act of wickedness. He saw some professors of religion who did not live better than himself, in his own opinion, and he was willing to risk the interests of his soul'on his own supposed goodness. At an early age he entered the army; he was a man of tact and talents, and so distinguished himself, that he rose in office and in the estimation of his superiors, and prided himself much on his patriotism.

"It was amidst the corruptions of the camp that he imbibed those deistical sentiments to which he ever afterwards adhered.

"Unhappily for my father, after the conclusion of the war, several of his former companions settled near him, and their intimacy continued. Their nocturnal revels were usually held at our house; and the scenes of these infidel meetings are embodied among my first and most vivid recollections. I was the oldest child, and was often called in to display my dexterity in military exercises, and show how fearlessly I could use profane language, as taught by my father. Often have I heard my mother pleading to have me excused from such a display, but she plead

silent usually closed the argument; for my father was one of those who look upon woman as inferior, as an object capable only of serving man, made to be in subjection, but having little to do as a companion or intellectual being.

Ah, Mr Romain, you did not use to talked in vain—a command from my father to be thus," interrupted the captain, "when on board the William Henry, bound to France; divine, beautiful France,' as you sometimes called it." "Too true, my good friend," said Romain, "I did cast off fear, and, young as I was, I laughed you out of your principles, and taught "My silent, uncomplaining mother, thereyou my own dark infidel creed; and the fear fore, had no voice in these domestic arrangethat I can never undo what I have done to de- ments, but only to obey in whatever my father stroy your soul, and the souls of others, is the enjoined; and, strange as it may seem, he often most bitter ingredient in my present painful urged upon her the duty of submission, by aremotions; but," he continued," at some pro-guments drawn from those very Scriptures per opportunity, I hope, by a relation of my own emancipation, to break those chains I riveted upon you."

which he professed to disbelieve and despise." "I wish," said the young lady before him, "that your father were a solitary example of "I wish that proper time were the present," such an incongruity; but I fear there are many said the young man on the front seat." I most such." Her brother coloured, and begged his heartily respond to the wish of my brother," sister not to interrupt the gentleman's narsaid his sister. "We should be highly grati-rative. She bowed assent, and Mr Romain confied by such a relation," said one of the sisters tinned :behind him The old gentleman expressed a similar desire, provided Captain Van Husan did not object.

"Pray, don't stand about a preface," said the captain, "but come at the story at once; for I expect that our pilot, helmsman, captain, or what you call him, out here, will luff up to

"The society to which I was introduced on entering life was of the most dangerous kind. It was composed of young men from families in high life, but destitute of religious principle. The Sabbath was a day of worldly pleasure and hilarity. Bad as my principles were, my circumstances had kept me from the more open

vices. But now an opportunity was furnished for the appearance of the legitimate fruits of those principles.

"No sooner was my daily routine of business performed, than some wily associate stood ready' to allure me to scenes of riot and dissipation, under the specious pretext of amusement or recreation. The gambling-house, the card or billiard-table, were a common resort.

"For a long time I had to contend with the force of habit, a sense of propriety, the upbraidings of conscience, and a guilty fear of detection. But I gathered strength with the repetition of the act, and grew bold as I advanced in vice, till, in the face of the world, I could play away my last piece of money, my coat from my back, or hat from my head, without compunction or shame. Nor did the evil stop here. Gambling is the parent of a host of kindred vices. Intemperance follows or accompanies it almost inevitably. The destruction of property was one source of amusement with us, especially in moments of drunkenness and frenzy.

"But this course of dissipation soon affected my health, and my father became alarmed: physicians prescribed a voyage to sea, and my father determined on sending me to France for my restoration. It was on board ship that I exerted those baneful influences over your mind, Van Husan, that I now so deeply regret." The captain seized his hand, but did not utter a word, and he proceeded: My residence in France with my father's infidel friends restored my health, but did not mend my principles. I returned home as full of selfishness and infidelity as I went forth.

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"On my arrival at New York, I learned that my mother was in the last stage of consumption, if alive. My mother was the only being on earth who had a hold on my conscience. She had made an impression on my heart which infidelity itself could not eradicate. The idea of seeing her no more, was agony; I therefore hurried on towards home, agitated with a thousand fearful apprehensions.

"The sun was just rising over my native hills when I alighted at my father's door. All was still! I was just about to give a loud rap, when my sister opened the door, and bade good morning to the nightly nurse who was just departing. My brother, have you come!' was all she could articulate, and, weeping, led me the way to my mother's room.

"She stepped lightly in, withdrew the curtain slightly from her bed, and left the room. I walked softly to the bed; my mother seemed dozing: her face was turned from me, and so pale, so emaciated, that my first impression was, that she was dead. But a smile passing over her features, convinced me of my mistake. I saw her lips moving; I heard a whisper; I leaned over her. I come, I come,' said she; 'I come, I come.' Then opening her eyes, she

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said, 'Am I here? Oh! I thought I was there.') 'Where, mother?' said I, tenderly. There, said she, pointing upward. I drew back, so that she supposed it was my sister who spoke. Hark!' said she again. I moved instinctively forward, and listened. 'I come,' said she again, to join your everlasting,song.' A placid smile now lighted up her features. I gazed at her a moment; and, in spite of my infidelity, conscience, reason, my better judgment, whispered unitedly, These are the consolations of the religion of the Bible!

"Alarmed at my own thoughts, I drew the curtain close, and walked to the window. Deep awe came over me. I felt for once how awful goodness was; I seemed to be in the presence of some all-pervading spirit. I looked out; the sun was climbing up the blue horizon, and pouring his beams over the face of nature. Who made that sun? seemed whispered in my ear. 'He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good,' busy memory replied. I twirled my watch-key with trembling fingers. I caught up a book, and turned over the leaves with a trepidation and haste that showed how deeply I was agitated, and how absent my mind was; for I had not the most distant idea what book I held in my hand. I heard again my mother's voice, and hastened back to her bed just to hear her repeat

Then shall I see, and hear, and know,
All I desired or wish'd below.'

"Still more agitated, I wiped away the tears which I thought it weakness to shed; and with a secret and repelled conviction of the reality of vital godliness, was about to leave the room, when, recollecting the book in my hand, I went back to lay it down on the table, when, casting my eye, for the first time, on the open page, I read

'Lorenzo, dost thou feel these arguments?

Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt?' Lifting my eye to the top of the page, I read, The Infidel Reclaimed.' I dashed the book from me, and hurried out of the room.

"On entering the breakfast room I met my father, who welcomed me with more than his usual paternal kindness, and inquired if I had seen my mother. I replied that I had seen her, but had not spoken with her. She is a poor, weak, bewildered woman,' said he. 'In her wild moments, she is eloquent and touching in many of her appeals; but we know she is not herself. My sister, with surprising firmness, said, that whatever her father might think of her mother, she had the clearest evidence that she had the most perfect use of her reason; and that, while her body was fast wasting away, her inward man was renewed day by day.'

"I turned a look of inquiry on my sister; her features were lighted up with the same glow of feeling which I had seen in the face of

THE INFIDEL.

my mother. My father muttered something about enthusiasm and priestcraft, and left the

room.

"A private talk with my sister convinced me, that a surprising change had taken place in her own feelings on the subject of religion since I had seen her. Conscience reiterated, 'Dost thou feel these arguments? Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt?'

"After breakfast I hastened again to the sick-room. My mother was awake, had been informed that I was there, and received me

with perfect composure. 'One thing have I desired of the Lord, and he has given me the desire of my heart,' said she, with a smile, giving me a mother's kiss. The solemn query of Dr Young still sounded in my ears, 'Dost thou feel these arguments?'

"In the afternoon the minister came, and the family were all desired to be present. After a solemn and impressive interview was ended, my mother addressed my father in the language of affectionate warning; then began with the youngest child, and ascended in her addresses or admonitions, till she had spoken to all of them but me. She bade them farewell, gave her hand to each, and they departed, all but myself.

"My mother, thought I, feels that my case is hopeless, and desires to leave me to pursue my own chosen path to ruin. Tears rushed to my eyes; but I suppressed them, and strove hard to escape from the inward voice which continued to repeat, Dost thou feel these arguments?' I rose to leave the room. She called me back, and asked me to take a seat near her bed. She beckoned to my sister to leave the room. Alone with God,' said she, and, raising her hands to heaven, she pleaded for strength to do her duty, her last duty to her first-born son; lamented that she had, through fear of man, acted with so little decision, had done so little to save her children; appealed to Him who seeth in secret, for well she knew that her life had been one of stifled hopes, slavish fear, and bitter repentance; but thanked God that he had at last given her the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Then turning to me, she alluded to my infidelity, and presented me a Bible. My son,' said she, 'I know you are an infidel. I know you reject the Bible as a revelation from God. I have, with painful interest, watched the progress of scepticism in your young mind. I know the art and sophistry with which it was mingled with your earliest perceptions. I know the arguments by which it has been defended, how soothing its doctrines are to guilt. I have felt its influence, and I feel for you all that a mother in my circumstances can feel. The chill of death is now creeping over my frame. This is the last effort of my maternal love. Life is fast ebbing away, time seems fast receding; and eternity is opening with all its solemn

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realities to my view. What I do must be done quickly. The grave is ready for me. My house is set in order; all my work on earth is done, except a few parting words to you my firstborn son. Let me first ask you one question, which I wish you to answer to God and your own conscience. Do you wish me to die a believer in the dark creed of Voltaire or Thomas Paine? If so, step forward with me to the tomb, which, in the light of infidelity, is dark as darkness itself. But infidelity has rendered my life wretched; the past has been a weary way; all its future is dark as the shadow of death. There is nothing in heaven, or on earth, that can give a ray of light, or hope, or consolation to the dying infidel. Should you name the promises the deist's God never made a revelation of himself to man. Should you speak of Him whom the apostle calls "the Resurrection and the Life" he is called an impostor by the deists. Do you speak or prayer-the God of the deist is not a prayerhearing God, it is effrontery to call upon his name. Come with a licentious song, or an idle jest; say something to stifle reflection, and quiet the forebodings of guilt, and you give him a partial relief. But it is a short reprieve; the 'king of terrors' will not be put off with a jest, or charmed with a song, or bribed with money, or foiled by sophistry; the last convulsive pang comes on, the spirit struggles with the clay, it bursts its frail enclosure, and is gone-gone. Where, O where? My son, we must leave the departed deist where he chooses to leave himself-in darkness. Now, do you wish your mother to die thus? O no, you do not, cannot! And, thanks be to God, I do not die thus! But while life recedes, my hope and confidence in the God of my salvation strengthen, brighten. Peace, peace, like a river, pours its balmy influence over me. Eternity and immortal life open on my soul's delighted vision : unutterable thoughts of God and heaven fill my already expanding capacities. I feel the assurance that God is my Father, Christ my Saviour, and the Holy Spirit my Comforterthat I shall soon have an unclouded vision of the glory of God-that all which now is dark, or deep, or high, to my present limited capacity, will be unfolded and understood. Nature, providence, and grace, will furnish themes for eternal research; the perfections and attri butes of God, an endless intellectual feast; and redemption, an everlasting song.

"And not only shall my immortal spirit live, but my body shall also rest in hope. The resurrection has rolled away the stone from the sepulchre, illuminated that dark enclosure, and swallowed up death in victory. My Saviour, Jesus, the sinner's Friend, is with me when all other friends forsake me; and his presence is sweet, is sweet. Oh, my son !'-she would have proceeded, she gasped, and sunk back on her pillow. I called the family-she was gone

The smile, the look of peace, and hope, and joy, still rested on her features. My father was pale, he trembled, and sunk into a chair. My sister calmly closed my mother's eyes.

"I stood awe-struck; I looked first at the peaceful clay, then at my father, then at my beloved, pious sister. I saw infidelity in all its deformity. I saw the religion of the Bible, in its proper fruits, giving support and joy in this hour of affliction. I had seen the triumphant departure of a believer to a brighter, better world. I saw myself as a lost sinner. I saw my remedy-it was the Saviour of sinners revealed in that long neglected and despised book, the Bible. Can you, then, dear Captain Van Husan, blame me, that I resolved to forsake the foolish, and live, and go on in the way of understanding?"

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commentators, he was unwilling to appear as a vain and lying prophet." And Dr Adam Clarke, whetting the matter a little more sharply upon poor Jonah, says, "He had more respect to his high sense of his own honour than he had to the goodness and mercy of God. He appeared to care little whether 620,000 persons were destroyed or not, so as he might not pass for a deceiver, or one that denounced a falsity." This, indeed, is the view that very naturally suggests itself on a somewhat hasty and superficial consideration of the subject; and yet there is something about the circumstances of Jonah, something even in the very account given of his vexation, which can scarcely fail to beget a conviction of there being a still deeper ground for the painful feelings that agitated his mind. For, if Jonah was so greatly to blame here, if his own credit with the world stood so high in his esteem, that he would rather have seen the largest city on the earth buried in ruins, than that he should be exposed to the taunt from thoughtless and inconsiderate persons (for such alone in the circumstances The captain's head had sunk on the shoulder could express it) of having spoken what had not of his young companion, and he sobbed audi-literally taken place, he must have belonged, we shall not say to the lowest class of saints, but to the bly. Tears were in the eyes of our comworst specimens of humanity: he must have had the panions. breast of a demon rather than of a man. And such Dr Clarke not obscurely insinuates was the case, when he asks, “Who but he who is of a fiendish nature will be grieved because God's mercy triumphs over judgment?

The stage-coach stopped where they were to separate. The old gentleman lifted his hands, and with the same serene countenance and gentle voice, said, "Father in heaven, we thank thee that we have met; sanctify to us this interview; bless us in parting; prepare us to meet in heaven." As they stepped from the coach the young man before mentioned seized the hand of Mr Romain. "You have saved me," said he, with great emotion; "I am on the verge of ruin, temporal and eternal; I resolve in the strength of Him who giveth power to the faint, to profit by your example. Farewell."

The whole party shook hands in silence, and their paths in life probably diverged for ever.

JONAH.

THE DISPLEASURE OF JONAH AT THE PRESERVATION
OF NINEVEH.

(Continued from p. 198.)

FROM the effect produced on the mind of God by the repentance of Nineveh toward him, we now pass to the effect produced on the mind of Jonah by the repentance of God toward Nineveh. This at first sight appears strange, so strange as to seem almost inexplicable in a man who had passed through such singular experiences, and had been so peculiarly honoured in his work. "But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry (or rather he was very much grieved or vexed). And he prayed unto the Lord, and said, I pray thee, O Lord, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto Tarshish: for I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil. Therefore now, O Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me; for it is better for me to die than to live. And the Lord said, Doest thou well to be angry? The marginal reading here is nearer the proper meaning, but it should be, as the Septuagint correctly renders it, Art thou very much grieved?

Why should Jonah have been so displeased and vexed, and rendered even weary of life, by an event which one would think fitted to inspire thankfulness and joy into every well-constituted mind? cause," says Calvin, expressing the general view of

"Be

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But this is plainly to give a darker view of Jonah's character and conduct than the circumstances of the case warrant, or than is borne out by the later allusions of Scripture respecting him. Had such been really the ground of Jonah's uneasiness he would have deserved the severest rebuke and chastisement, especially considering what he had already suffered from warring against the mind and purposes of God. And yet the Lord does no more than mildly expostulate with him, and, by a course of treatment much more remarkable for its gentleness and condescension than for its severity, tries to convince him of his mistake. Not only so; but, when we come down to New Testament times, we find such honourable mention made of Jonah, and such a close resemblance! drawn by our Lord himself between his own mission as a prophet and that of Jonah's, that we cannot rest with satisfaction in the view suggested above. We cannot believe such marked and honourable reference would have been made to him, if he had been the selfish, perverse, unreasonable creature he is represented to have been; but are rather driven to the conviction, that deeper views and less discreditable feelings gave the tone to his behaviour here, than such as a hasty glance might naturally dispose one to imagine.

Besides, viewing the matter even on the lowest ground, and with reference to the prophet's repute in the world, it must surely have appeared to any one but the most depraved or childish being, a far more ennobling distinction to have been, under God, the reformer of a great people and the saviour of their city, than simply to have been known as the herald who had truly announced its doom, Though what he proclaimed had not literally taken place, his preaching was still the instrumental cause of saving the city from ruin; and if carnal ambition had wrought in his bosom-if worldly honour, in reality, was the jewel so dear to him-it seems hard to understand why he should have wished an opposite result, at least so passionately wished it as to have longed for death because he had been disappointed in the object of his desire.

But what reason have we to suppose that Jonah's vexation and concern turned at all upon the point of

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