naturally rush into the hearts of a fond husband and dutiful and affectionate

The

children on such an occasion, were instantaneously enkindled,and manifested in their countenances. Tears flowed plentifully down the husband's cheeks, a deep groan sometimes escaped him; the daughters cried aloud; the sons, too, manifested by those emotions which they could not conceal, that their grief for their loss was sincere and deep; and their cousins who were present mingled in the general sorrow. scene indeed was truly affecting. For my own part, I was overcome by it, and could not help giving way to those teelings which sympathy for others' sufferings excites. At this moment Mrs. N. came into the room, and made the exclamation noted above. "I am tired and disgusted with such extravagance: it looks like murmuring against the Almighty. Mr. N. instead of endeavouring to check this foolish grief in his children, only encourages, and thereby increases it." I was astonished at the observation, so much was it at variance with the feelings of my own heart at the moment. To me there was nothing extravagant in the conduct of the mourners-nothing indeed but what one acquainted with the family would have looked for. Mr. N. had lived with his wife from his youth, and their union had always been happy. He had now advanced to a considerable distance on the downhill of life, and was about to fix his eyes for the last time upon the face of her who had been his companion for so long a period-who had shared all his cares-had soothed his sorrows-had been the partner of his pleasures, and his tender nurse in the hours of sickness. Who that has experienced the true joys that accompany a happy married life, can contemplate the severance of the heart from that which it holds most dear, the disruption of the strongest earthly ties that bind the soul of man,-without feeling a pang of woe that is unutterable ?The deceased had also been a most affectionate and indulgent mother, and the hearts of her children repaid the affection; while her whole deportment during her last illness was such as to conciliate the love of all who attended

her. She had been in a declining state of health a long while. The slow-wast ing consumption had gradually undermined her constitution, and taught her to know that death was certainly ap proaching. Yet, during the whole time of her sickness, she manifested the greatest patience and resignation. I had visited her during her confinement, and witnessed the composure with which she contemplated her expected change, and the faith and hope with which she looked forward to the mansions of the just. I could not therefore help feeling great astonishment at the observation of Mrs. N. and mentally exclaimed in the fervour of the moment, Is this the language of one who openly professes herself the servant of God, and who belongs to a sect which claims for itself such a great measure of evangelical piety? (Mrs.N. is a Methodist.) Feelings of indignation for a short time took place of those of sorrow, and I had almost said to her, "If this is the spirit of your religion, its tendency is to blunt all the fine feelings of the heart, and to render us totally callous and insensible." Restraining myself, however, I turned from her; but could not avoid meditating upon the spirit of that religion which can thus, as it were, meta morphose the human mind at will, and extinguish principles and feelings which have heretofore appeared inseparable from our nature. From my previous acquaintance with Mrs. N. as well as from her look and manner at the time, it appeared evident to me, that the declaration she then made was the off spring of her religious sentiments. Had it not been, I cannot believe, that nearly connected as she was with the family, she would have manifested so much apathy on so mournful an occasion. Indeed, she intimated in plain terms, that she thought the grief of Mr. N. and his family was "murmuring against the Almighty." Is, then, this sentiment in accordance with the spirit of Christianity? Can a single passage be produced from the sacred volume which forbids all weeping at the death of those dear to us? So far from it, many instances are on record, in which the people of God have mourned aloud for the loss of those whom they loved and venerat

ed, and yet received no reprimand from their Creator." The children of Israel wept," we are told, "for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days." Our Saviour himself "groaned in spirit," and "wept" at the grave of Lazarus. And the Apostle directs us to "rejoice with those that do rejoice, and to weep with those that weep." But, says the creed of Mrs. N." this is murmuring against God." It is evident, therefore, that so far her creed is not in unison with the spirit of Christianity. This spirit is most truly one of sympathy. It has for its objects both the bodily and spiritual distresses of man; and so far from hushing up these distresses by the arguments of Mrs. N. and thereby creating a sullen and gloomy silence, it endeavours to soothe and soften the troubled soul-it seizes hold of the passion of sorrow, and aims to render it instrumental in promoting our everlasting welfare. By making our earthly distresses redound to our future benefitby improving upon the disposition of mind which worldly affliction produces by imprinting upon the soul, when softened by this affliction, truths of the most solemn and important nature,-it teaches us that the passion of grief was implanted in our nature for a benevolent purpose, and that our Creator did not design that we should totally eradicate it. Sorrow, therefore, is not at all times murmuring. It may indeed become so, when carried to excess; for then the proper design of it is defeated, and instead of producing a soft and pli ́able heart, it renders its object morose and melancholy. But where sorrow is confined within proper limits, and does not interrupt us in the discharge of our duties, it is not in the view of religion criminal. Neither is it in the eye of reason. Reason teaches us that every part or principle of our nature must have its proper object, and may be made subservient to our welfare. Even the passion of anger, when kept within due bounds, may be so far useful as to assist in preserving us from injury and imposition, and in extorting the respect of those whose inclinations might urge them to pursue a difierent conduct. Upon the same principle, the passion of grief may be of service, by softening

the heart that is hardened by the com merce of the world, and thus preparing it for the reception of the Christian graces. It is not essentially material from what source this grief proceeds. A circumstance of more moment is, that the proper effect be produced-that the heart be humbled-be impressed with a just sense of the vain and perishable nature of all terrestrial things, and the necessity of weaning our affections from them. If these sentiments be just, how erroneous the ideas of all those who, like Mrs. N. exclaim against mourning for the loss of friends and other temporal blessings? And indeed, how inconsistent in some respects with the spirit of her own religious system? Does not this system, in attempting to bring sinners to a sense of their errors, appeal for the most part to the pas sions? Does it not apply to the hopes and fears, but generally to the fears of men, rousing with the most vehement zeal slumbering mortals from their dangerous delusion? Do not its preachers generally make it their business to paint in the most vivid colours the horrors of hell, in order that they may work upon the passions of their hearers, and frighten them from the paths of sin? May not, then, the passions be instrumental, after the converts have left these paths, in confirming them in the ways of holiness? Can it be, that at the moment of turning from sin, their tumultuous feelings are hushed into a calm never more to be agitated by any of the storms that so frequently assail us in this world?

To the mind that is accustomed to trace the springs of human action, it must be an interesting task to investigate the principles in the system of Methodism that lead to so strange a result. To the writer of this it appears that it is the natural consequence of two of their distinguishing doctrines, viz. conversion and perfection. Conversion with them (or, at any rate, with many of them) implies not only a sudden, but a complete revolution of the whole man so complete indeed that the views and dispositions of those who are subjects of it become entirely changed. They pass instantaneously from the wilderness of sin, to the fertile and de

lightful plains of religion. They as cend at once to a lofty summit, from whence they look down upon the world, and the things of the world, with the feelings of those who are inhabitants of another sphere. Hence the conclusion necessarily follows, that they must endeavour to exterminate those passions in which they have formerly indulged, and adopt the views and the conduct of a higher order of beings. They must not indulge in mirth; they must hardly carry with them that cheerful countenance which is the index of a happy heart: nor, on the other hand, must they mourn on account of temporal misfortunes-they must not lament the loss of friends or relatives, because to do so, would be murmuring against God.* Similar is the operation of the doctrine of perfection. Those who attain to it, are so highly raised above their former state, that they must not indulge in the ordinary feelings of humanity. Free from sin and imperfection, they must no longer act the part of fallen beings; they must not be elevated by joy nor depressed by grief; but contemplate with a calm and stoical indifference the multiplied changes which occur in this transitory state. It is not contended that this effect is always produced upon the mind by the doctrines in question; for the strong feelings of nature will often burst the enclosures which system may have thrown around them, and exhibit themselves in their genuine garb,-but we do think that such is their natural ope

* "Be serious," said Wesley's first convocation of helpers in conference assembled; "avoid all lightness as you would hell-fire, and trifling as you would cursing and swearing."-"Let no teacher go out to supper, nor be from home after nine at night," is another of his rules. Such institutes have sent abroad among us a body of Protestant Predicants, not less intolerant in spirit than their predecessors and counterparts in the Romish church, and who bring with them nothing in their costume or ceremonies to mitigate the graceless and joyless manners with which they infect the community. In their mouths the beauty of holiness is inapplicable even to absurdity. They have stript religion of its outward grace; and in proportion as they overspread the country, the very character of the English face is altered; for Methodism transforms the countenance as certainly, and al most as speedily, as sottishness or opium." See a well-written and impartial article in the Quarterly Review, No. 8, p. 503.

VOL. VI.

ration, and that such will be their ef fect upon minds of particular descriptions, upon those, for instance, that are of a warm and enthusiastic tempera ment, and upon those that indulge in feelings of self-righteousness. That such was the case with Mrs. N. I am well convinced. She and her husband were both strong advocates of the doctrine of perfection, and had been known to say that they had committed no sins for a considerable time. Alas, poor human nature!! But let us learn from the foregoing observations how all im portant it is to acquire correct principles on the subject of religion,-to avoid every error, even those that may appear of the most trivial nature. The connexion between faith and practice is inseparable, and error, in the former, will inevitably, sooner or later, lead to error in the latter. Faith may be compared to the blood that circulates through the human body. As long as it is pure and healthy, the body will be free from disease; but when it becomes corrupted, the effects are soon visible. And although the degree of corruption may not be so great as to produce immediate death, yet the disease will make its appearance in tumours and excrescences that will lessen the comeliness and beauty of the system; and which, if not healed in time, may extend their vitiating effects from limb to limb, until the health of the whole body suffers.

The Country Clergyman.

Sunday Evening.

"I THINK We must have a row down the river this beautiful evening," said Joe Bennett. "Ay," replied Harry Adams, "so we will; for we've been to church once to-day, and that's enough in any reason for folks that have worked hard all the week."-" True," rejoined Joe, "tis very well for the gentlefolks and parsons to keep at home on Sundays, when they can take their pleasure all the other six days; but it is quite a different thing for us, and one works all the better for a little fun once now and then.""I am sure I do," said Harry: so the plan was made, and they went directly to the waterside, and took a

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boat. In their way, however, they met a neighbour who, they were aware, thought very differently about the manner in which Sunday evenings ought to be spent. At first, therefore, they were surprised to see him out, and Joe be gan to say, that, after all, Thomas was no better than themselves; "for," added he," in spite of somewhat he has preached to me about staying at home and keeping the Sabbath holy, you see he can take a walk upon an occasion, just as we do."-"And he has less excuse for it too," said Harry, "for we are but lads, and he is old enough to know better. I don't know that I should go out if I had a wife and children like him.”

Thomas came up to them just as they were getting into the boat; and, as usual, said something, especially to Joe, whom he had known many years, about the impropriety of what they were doing. He, however, was not disposed to listen, and Thomas left them, saying, "You will repent of this when it may be too late; and, depend upon it, nothing but harm ever came of Sunday parties." Thomas was a middle-aged man, and, though he had lived all his life in his native village, and knew not much of the world, yet he had seen quite enough to convince him, that the true interest and happiness of every body is to obey the commands, and do the will of God. He had been a servant of God for many years, and had found him a kind and merciful Master. As it may be supposed, one of his chief studies had been how to preserve a consistent conduct, and a devotional spirit; and, as he was what his neighbours called a "sharp man," perhaps few persons were more likely to decide justly what were the best means. Yet Thomas's favourite maxim was, that if Sunday was well spent, nothing would go amiss in the week; and so very great an importance did he attach to observing the Sabbath, that when his eldest son was going out to a farmer's service, the principal advice he gave him was respecting it. "My boy," said he, "when I was a young man, and could not get a holyday any other time, I was sometimes persuaded to go out on a Sunday; but I can say that I never did so without

finding cause to repent of it heartily, even independent of its being a sin against God. I was sure to get into worse company on Sundays than any time else; which may easily be accounted for, because sober steady people always stay at home then, and I was sure to get overcharged at any public house or skittle-ground I went to; and, as the whole thing together was against the law, it was no use to complain. Then, coming home, especially on the river, there was almost always quarrelling, or tricks, and generally some who were half drunk, so that very often there was some accident or other. Besides, it so unsettled my mind, that I could not go comfortably to work the next day, and the wickedness I had heard and seen would run in my head all the week after. Even if I had been to church in the morning, these jaunts used to drive out all the good I might have learned there: they made me quite forget every thing that had been said; and, indeed, to tell the truth, my mind would be so full of the pleasure-party, that I hardly listened either to the prayers or sermon. Thank God I did not persevere in such a course of sin, but became convinced that I could not be happy, except in obeying his commandments. Since I have given up pleasure-taking on Sundays, I have found that I have saved my money better, and have been a great deal less troubled with temptations to do many things that are wrong. My thoughts are able to follow the prayers in public worship, and God has answered these prayers in blessing both me and my family." This advice, with more of the same nature, Thomas had also before endeavoured to impress on his son, and, indeed, on all his family; and he enjoined it by the quiet regular manner in which he always spent the Sabbath. His wife was generally obliged to stay at home in the morning with the very young chil dren; but not because she had any clothes to wash or iron, or rooms to clean before she could go to church. All this was done on the Saturday; and even if Thomas was late in bringing his wages home, her credit at the shop was good enough for her to be trusted