more obdurate. Then another, and another blow follows, sent in infioite mercy, to awaken the sinner from his fearful slumber, and if he still dares to defy his Maker, and obstinately refuses to bend before his sovereign will, his condition is well nigh hopeless, and nothing short of a miracle of grace can "pluck him as a firebrand from the burning." "He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." This I could not help imagining to be the situation of the person before me, and I subsequently learned that there was but too much foundation for my fears.

Finding him in such a frame, I judged it best not to say much directly on the subject at present, but to endeavour to gain his good-will in other ways. I was pleased to find his manners gradually softening, and his interest evidently excited on other subjects, and he often expressed the pleasure he experienced in meeting with any one who could converse like a man of

sense.

At last, however, came the hour for retiring, and with that I felt also came the season of devotion; and, in spite of an internal shrinking, I saw it to be my duty, at least, to propose uniting in prayer, before separating for the night. Though I introduced the subject as cautiously as possible, I perceived by the revulsion in the countenance of my host, that I had touched a painfully sensitive string in his heart, and this was followed by a long deep silence, which I did not choose to interrupt, but allowed his thoughts time to take their course. I saw the daughter's mildly imploring eye fixed upon the father's stern features, though she uttered not a word. At length, after some time elapsed, he said, with a voice which, notwithstanding his efforts, was choked with emotion, "I did not think, sir, that the voice of prayer should ever again be voluntarily listened to by me, in this world, to a Being whose existence 1 doubt, and whose laws, if he has an existence, I have habitually disregarded and trampled upon. Nevertheless, I have not utterly forgotten that once, in happier days, the voice of daily supplication ascended from under my roof; and that one who is now assuredly in heaven, if there be such a place, and whose chief earthly delight was to worship the Lord, left it as her dying charge that her household should serve him. For her sake, I consent to break my resolution, and shall not oppose your doing what you see fit this evening, though I frankly tell you that my own mind is too completely decided on the subject to be in the slightest degree influenced by any thing you can say, and has too entirely shaken off the shackles of your faith, real or pretended, ever again to submit to them."

I accepted of this permission, ungracious as it was, and opening the sacred volume, I read the 3rd chapter of St. John's gospel, where the necessity of a renewal of the heart before it is possible to gain admittance into the kingdom of heaven, is so clearly and beautifully set forth. Afterwards I offered up the Evening Family Prayer, in the Prayer Book, in which my young acquaintance devoutly joined. She thanked me, with tears in her eyes, when I concluded, and expressed a hope that it would not be the last time that she might unite with me in the solemn exercises of devotion.

I stretched myself on my cloak before the fire, and slept until the dawning light summoned me to depart on my way. I took leave of my host with many kind words and wishes, and of his sweet young daughter, with a deeper interest than so transient an intercourse had perhaps ever inspired in me, and was repeatedly requested to stop again on my return through the neighbourhood.

Circumstances, however, which it is unnecessary to detail here, protracted my absence to several months, instead of a few weeks, and the forests were beginning to assume the livery of spring, when I retraced my steps towards the cottage of the young Christian. The delightful freshness of the verdure, and the pure air of the woods, produced an exhilarating sensation through my frame, and my mind was in a peculiarly tranquil and elevated state as I rode along. Often as the wonderful transition from apparent death to life,

takes place in the vegetable world, it yet loses nothing of its astonishing character to a reflecting mind. It tends more than almost any other of the ordinary operations of nature to excite admiring wonders, and to raise the heart in adoration to that glorious Being who

"In its case

Russet and rude, shuts up the tender germ
Uninjured, with inimitable art;

And ere one flowery season fades and dies,
Designs the blooming wonders of the next."

The animal creation seemed to sympathise in the revival of its sister kingdom to life and beauty. The fleet and graceful deer bounded occasionally across my path, full of vivacity and glee, the nimble squirrel climbed among the branches over my head, and gazed in conscious security from his elevated position, and the feathered songsters poured fourth their most enchanting melody. All seemed to say, with united voices, "God is love!" and my heart responded to the sentiment in silent praise.

Amid such scenes, we can at times forget the existence of that sin and misery which the crowded city brings each moment before our eyes, and almost fancy that man is as happy as he might be, in a world so filled with his Maker's bounty. But as soon as we enter the abodes of human beings, the pleasing illusion is dispelled, and the painful truth forced back on our unwilling conviction.-How sweet to the Christian then to reflect on that "land which is very far off" to the eye of sense, but brought near to that of faith, where lies his inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." There the dark cloud of sin shall no more interpose to conceal the beams of his Sun of Righteousness, but shall be for ever chased away by his dazzling splendours! In that pure atmosphere nothing that defileth can for one moment exist, nor shall his soul any longer be grieved by the presence of what is so hateful to his Lord!

Occupied by these thoughts, I pursued my way, which soon emerged from the thickly embowering trees, and led through the cleared space that surrounded the dwelling to which I was bending my course. I was struck, as I approached the door, by the beauty of a luxuriant vine, which nearly covered the front of the lowly tenement, and hung in graceful wreaths over the entrance; but it looked as though no fostering hand had lately pruned its superfluous foliage, or trimmed its wild branches into order. The door was half open, and I gently tapped at it. My summons was answered by a neat looking middle aged female, on whose countenance was depicted deep melancholy, and who answered my enquiries after the family in a low whisper, as if fearful of disturbing some one within. "You have come at a sad time, sir," she said, our poor neighbour is very near his end, and dear Lucy is well nigh spent with watching and sorrow. She has just fallen asleep for a few minutes by his bed-side, for I cannot persuade her to leave it, with all I can say."

My heart sunk within me, as the infidel sentiments the unhappy man had expressed returned with vivid clearness to my recollection, and I dreaded to enquire whether there had been any change in the state of his mind since his illness. My companion probably suspected the nature of my reflections, for she added, in a still lower whisper, "The worst of all is, that he can find no peace, within or without. It would break your heart, sir, to hear his groans sometimes.-I trust I shall never see such another death bed." stepped gently into the cottage, and seated myself in the outer apartment, desiring the good woman not to disturb the poor wearied daughter, but when she awoke to tell her I was there.

I

I began to meditate on the terrors of eternity to a soul that has been living without God in the world, and is at last forced to meet, as an angry judge, Him, whom it has rejected as a compassionate Saviour, when I was startled by such an agonizing exclamation from the chamber within, as almost froze my blood with horror.

"Oh! I am dying, dying! Lucy, my child," groaned the sufferer," and whither shall I go? Must I be forced into that terrible presence which I have striven to shun all my life? And with all my sins in their black array set against me! I cannot-I dare not!" There was a solemn pause of a moment, and the gentle voice of the daughter was heard, broken with sobs, "Oh, my father, look to that blood which cleanseth from all sin—that can wash them away, were they ever so great! Look to him who came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance!" "I cannot, I cannot, it is too late! hope is for ever shut out from my eyes! I must dwell with the worm that dieth not, and lie down in the fire that shall never be quenched, never be quenched!"

I could not distinguish the words of the daughter, in reply, but the unhappy father, exhausted by the vehemence of his feelings, remained in silence. Soon after, Lucy left him a few minutes, on hearing of my arrival. I was shocked to observe the effects which mental and physical suffering had wrought on her delicate frame and pallid cheek, and I thought she too looked as if her days were numbered. I endeavoured to administer the only comfort which the broken heart can receive, by recalling to her mind the precious promises of the Word of God. She seemed soothed and comforted, while listening to the sweetly encouraging language of her Heavenly Father to his afflicted children, "When thou passeth through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee"-" Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth"-and the heavy burden of her sorrows was a little lightened.

She wished me much to see her father, adding, that perhaps my words might have more weight than any thing she could urge. Of course I could not be unwilling to do anything in my power to comfort the broken-hearted daughter, though fully convinced of the utter inefficiency of all that man can do in such a case, unless the Spirit of God accompany his words with power to the heart. Offering a fervent prayer to the only source of life and peace for his gracious aid, I followed Lucy into the chamber of her parent.

I have stood by many a death-bed; I have beheld the peaceful hope and sure confidence of the Christian support him calmly through the mortal agonies, and make him more than conqueror over his last enemy; and I have seen the spirit, perhaps unprepared for eternity, yet so sunk into the lethargy of approaching dissolution, as to be unconscious of the awful change, but never did I witness a scene like this. The lapse of time can never erase from my memory the fearful expression that rested on that countenance !

He was supported nearly upright, to aid his breathing, which was much obstructed, and illness had made such ravages that it was with difficulty I could recognize his features. His eye, naturally full, black, and piercing, was lighted up with such a wild, unearthly lustre, that it seemed as though the veil of futurity had been withdrawn from before it, and the invisible and terrific realities of an awful eternity stood revealed to its gaze, ere the immortal spirit had taken its flight. There was deep, hopeless despair painted on every lineament of the sternly expressive countenance; the full powers of consciousness had remained, but to render the bitterness of that cup of agony more intense, more unmitigated. "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

He motioned to me, with his wasted hand, to sit down by him, but spoke not; and I felt too solemnly impressed to utter a word. I knew that all human consolation would have been but a bitter mocking of his anguish. At length, grasping his hand, I said, "I grieve, my friend, to see you in so much suffering. Would that I could do any thing to relieve you!"

"No mortal hand can give me relief," he answered, in a hollow voice," my misery, both in soul and body, is too deep for any earthly physician to heal. I have not many hours to live, I feel, for human strength cannot longer endure what is appointed for me to suffer."

"Your bodily disease may be too much aggravated for relief," I resumed,

"but it is not even yet too late to apply to the great Physician of Souls Remember that even in the latest hour his mercy is not exhausted."

"There is none for me-there can be none for me," was his reply, "I would not ask, if I could, for mercy from a Being whom I have defied and hated all my days. Do you think to convince me that now, when I am on the verge of eternity, he would be moved by a prayer that was prompted by dread alone? No! I will not-l cannot pray. I will die as I have lived, and bear the curse I have drawn down upon my own head. I dare no longer disbelieve the existence of a God, but my heart cannot love him. Indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish shall be my everlasting portion." I endeavoured to show him how infinitely worthy of our love the Almighty is-how unwilling he is to see the sinner die in his sins-how utterly undeserving every human being is of his love, which is free, unmerited, and boundless but all was in vain. The heart, long hardened in unbelief, turned from it all the arrows of conviction; the eye, long benighted by sin, could see nothing lovely in him "in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." The wretched man relapsed into a state of languid faintness, which alternated with one of high excitement. But I will not dwell longer on this painful scene. For several hours preceding his dissolution, he lay in a state of insensibility, only less distressing to those around him, than that of consciousness. I read and prayed with the mourning daughter, as she felt able to bear it; and towards evening I walked out into the woods to calm my mind, which could not but be sadly harrowed by witnessing so much anguish in a fellowcreature, without power in the slightest degree to assuage it.

On returning to the house, I found the poor invalid had just breathed his last. Oh, let me not die the death of the unbelieving, nor let my last end be like his. Dark, indeed, is the inscription which that day has left upon the tablet of memory, and one that can never be effaced-yet not, I trust, wholly unprofitable to my soul, for it has not unfrequently recurred to my recollection, when I have been expostulating with the careless worldling on his headlong course; it has nerved me to more strenuous efforts on his behalf; and sometimes the simple recital has succeeded in arresting the attention even of such a one, and induce him to pause and reflect on those awful wages which sin ever pays to its servitors.

As my presence could be of no further service, I took leave of the afflicted young Christian with a heavy heart, commending her to the care of Him "who had torn, and who only could heal" her broken heart, and felt relieved that she had with her a companion so kind and sympathising as the one who had been assisting her in ministering to her dying parent, and who seemed to feel towards her all a mother's tenderness.

*

*

Several years had passed away, and my thoughts often reverted to the scenes I have related, but I heard nothing further respecting Lucy Graham. The extreme delicacy of her appearance, when I had last seen her, led me to suppose that she had probably soon followed her father to the tomb; and I felt, that in such an event, here would be little cause of mourning to her whose brief existence had been clouded by sorrow and trial, if she should be early called to enter into that "rest which remaineth to the people of God." About a twelvemonth since, however, being obliged to visit a person residing not very far distant from the spot, I determined to ascertain the sequel of the young emigrant's history, by revisiting her cottage. On arriving at the dwelling, I found it in possession of another family, from whom I learned that Lucy was living about a mile from the place, having become the daughter-in-law of the kind-hearted woman whom I had met in my last visit. A few minutes' ride brought me to the spot to which I had been directed as her residence. The same appearance of neatness and taste was visible about this humble abode, which had struck me as so uncommon in the former one, in the midst of a rough and half-settled country. As I dismounted, my young friend, who was busily occupied in her household

duties, had already espied me, and so warm and cordial a greeting I have seldom received as she bestowed upon me. I saw, with pleasure, that the extreme fragility of her appearance was now replaced by the bloom of health, and that her soft eye beamed with deep and real happiness. A little rosy boy, whose head was covered with dark curls, was playing round his mother, and trying to hide himself in the folds of her gown, while, full of infantile curiosity, he would now and then raise his head to steal a glance at the stranger. The good old grandmother was seated in a comfortable arm-chair, with her spinning-wheel before her, the picture of quiet contentment.

I could not resist their united entreaties to remain until the next day, though I had only proposed to spend an hour or two. At sunset, the husband returned from his labours, a fine-looking young man, in whom I was gratified to discover kindred sentiments of piety and good sense with those I had observed in his mother. In the evening, I complied with the request of the family to unite with them in the evening service of the Church, after which we enjoyed some religious conversation until the hour for retiring.

On the following morning, I took leave, with regret, of this interesting household, with whom I shall probably hold no more earthly intercourse, but whose members I humbly trust to meet in that "house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

HISTORICAL MEMORANDA.

PURITAN PERSECUTIONS, No. XVI.-A PICTURE OF PURITANICAL TIMES, DRAWN BY A SUFFERING CLERGYMAN.-The days of Puritan ascendency, when the altar and the throne were alike prostrate before the overwhelming torrent of brute force, have been described by a rebellious presbyterian of the name of Edwards. The account he gives us in his Gangræna, published in 1646, is most sad indeed; but his testimony must serve for another number. In the present paper, we shall cite the testimony of a suffering servant of Jesus Christ, concerning the dreadful state of things during the same period of anarchy, confusion, and blood. The gentleman whom we are about to make use of, was himself a Puritan Clergyman in early life; his name was Edward Symmons; and the Martyrologist of the suffering Clergy closes his account of the dreadful and disgusting and hyper-hypocritical conduct of the rebel religionists toward Mr. Symmons, in these words: -" I have only this one word more to add, that Mr. Symmons' friendship with Stephen Mordall, [rightly called 'the arch-flamine of the rebels'] and omitting the cross [in baptism] and the surplice, plainly intimate his having been something inclinable to the Puritans; but his not being able to go hand in hand with them in the rebellion, brought all those miseries upon him. So little will they allow of moderation among themselves, or favour those who will not go the utmost lengths with them, when once they have got the power in their own hands-a truth

which I could wish deeply imprinted upon the mind and heart oF EVERY CLERGYMAN."-Dr. Walker, Part II., p. 361.

This Mr. Symmons wrote a "Vindica tion of King Charles I." from the foul aspersions of fouler men; and from that work are selected the following passages. On the desecration of the temples of God by the rebels, he writes, "They have pulled down all Christian order and forms of public worship and service tending to decency and edification. They have cast down, defiled and defamed the houses of God, turning many of them into stables, slaughter-houses, prisons, and jakes. They have made close-stools of fonts and pulpits, and done as bad [and worse too] to communion tables. They have rent the Holy Bible in pieces, scorned at the Sacraments, baptized horses, robbed churches of Sacramental utensils,- -as plate, linen, -calling them idolations, and superstitions, because they had been only used in Christ's service. Nay, the poor innocent bells, because they have been the means of calling people together to worship God and to adore the Saviour of the world, must be pulled down, and turned into guns, that they may be another while instruments of destruction to the members of Jesus. This indeed,-as I read,-was the manner of the Turks:when they took Constantinople, they melted the bells into ordnance. In a word, whatever evil or impiety the enemies were wont to slander our Church withal, these men have acted, or suffered to be done by those whom they maintain: insomuch that now