blood-red counterfeit of hatred and intolerance: a huge mass of unctuous religious talk utterly destitute of a single particle of sincerity, the article being entirely composed of rancid "cant," scented with essence of hypocrisy : an eloquent discourse of the Rev. Mr. Blarney discerned to have but five per cent. of genuine emotion in it, the tears and pathos, warranted real, being nothing but old "theatrical properties:" the decorous sorrows of an undertaker seen at a glance, and with scarcely a higher power than that of common spectacles, to be nothing but downright hilarity painted black: the deep dejection of an heir to a large estate discerned to be similarly constituted: the tears of a whole party in a mourning coach found to exhibit the merest tincture of genuine grief for the deceased; what other emotion there was being the result of disappointed expectations!

Such are some of the analyses one might expect to see if we had but this wonder-working instrument – a moral solar microscope; but perhaps it is as well for us all that there is none.

Yours,

R. E. H. G.

My dear Friend,

LETTER C.

To Alfred West, Esq.

You have often heard me mention my friend John Fuller, -who supposed himself to be a lineal descendant of old Thomas Fuller, and felt a little innocent pride in so thinking; the only pride I ever saw in him. He is dead-and has carried with him out of the world as much true worth, I believe, as ever existed in any one heart in it.

He was a genuine Christian, if ever there was one. As to the species, indeed, I rather think he would have been himself puzzled

to say, "Was he Episcopalian - Presbyterian Calvinist Arminian?" I hear half a thousand zealots say. I hardly know; but I am sure he was a Christian, for he exhibited in great perfection all the principal "paradoxes" of sentiment and conduct which Bacon represents as characteristic of one. He exercised an absolute faith "in the merits of Christ for his salvation," and yet was as much impelled to do "good works," as if he thought he could be saved only by his own. "He believed Christ could have no need of anything he could do, and yet made account that he relieved Christ in all his acts of charity;" "he knew he could do nothing of himself, and yet laboured to work out his own salvation." He prayed and laboured for that which he was confident God meant to give." He was full of gentleness, patience, charity; and felt an especial pleasure in doing a kindness to those who had wronged him, and in giving a benefaction to a Christian who did not wear the outward costume he altogether approved. Now, if all that does not make a Christian, I know not what does. had his "Sibboleth," or his "Shibboleth," I dare say, is without it to some extent?— but he never could prevail on himself to regard a peculiarity of articulation as a different language; or to see why, if men may speak widely different dialects, and yet may all be Englishmen, Christians may not talk in very different dialects, too, without ceasing to be Christians; yea, though sometimes the pronunciation be so uncouth, that one may almost doubt whether they be not "barbarians."

He

for who

He was stark naught, says the Papist, in spite of all this faith and charity, if he did not believe in the infallibility of the Pope and the seven sacraments! Pardon me, Mr. Romanist, you know about as much of the matter as the Brahmin in Marmontel's tale, who, when the young English officer has saved his daughter's life at the hazard of his own, exclaims "Is it possible that so excellent a person should not believe in Vishnoo and his Seven Transmigrations?

John Fuller did not deny that minor differences of doctrine, or even diversities of ritual, were things of some moment; he thought that every Christian was bound to satisfy his conscience respect

ing such things, and adhere to those opinions which he thought really nearest the truth; but while he acted on his own conscientious convictions and preferences, he could not allow the essence of Christianity to consist in trifles, and never hesitated, where he did see that essence embodied in character, to embrace it with the full sympathies of a Christian. "Many errors," he would say, "will quietly drop away with the progress of truth itself, and many more with the progress of charity. Others of little moment (strange as it seems to say so) I hardly wish ever should drop; for if men were brought to a perfect unanimity, where would be the scope for the exercise of mutual charity? There is as much -nay, a greater-difficulty in vanquishing antipathies of religious sentiment, even when differences are of little moment, than almost any other."

I have said that John had his preferences and his opinions on minor matters; but never so as to interfere with his love of intercommunion among Christians, of whatever type. But he did not think it competent himself to break down altogether the sacred enclosure, or diminish by a hair's breadth the wide interval which still subsists between the most imperfect Christian, if really one, and him who is no Christian at all; and thus, though he was the most catholic, he was also the most rigid of men. Unhappy result of his consistency! He was thought lax by his brethren and bigoted by the world! But it never troubled John. He could hear with edification a sermon from one of those he called "his great preachers," whether preached in the Cathedral or in a Conventicle, and threw his modest mite into almost any treasury consecrated to Christian enterprise and philanthropy ;,sometimes -how am I ashamed to say it !- with a peculiar gusto, if his modest tribute was in aid of associations which a little differed from those he most preferred!

In short, he was much in the condition of a certain Canadian convert of whom I once heard the following droll story. He had a dream, he said one night, that he was translated to heaven, which to his imagination seemed very much like a “large church or meeting-house" (I devoutly trust he was mistaken in that).

He said he thought Jesus Christ questioned each one before him as to his ecclesiastical position. One said he was an Episcopalian. "Then," said Christ, "you can go and sit down in that pewthere all the Episcopalians are gathered together." Another said he was a Baptist; he was in like manner told to repair to another pew. A third said he was a Presbyterian, and a third pew was assigned to him; and so of the rest. At last it came to the turn of the poor savage to be catechised; and not being sufficiently up to the nice divisions of ecclesiastical and doctrinal theology, he was afraid that there would be no pew" found for him. Trembling, he replied when asked what he was "I am a-Christian, and love the Lord Jesus Christ with all heart." my 66 "Oh, then,"

66

said the benignant querist, "you may walk all about heaven, and go hither and thither just as it pleases you." I am afraid that Canadian was a very sly fellow !

my old

You will be glad to hear that I have safely reached haunt, and have located myself in the family of my worthy farmer, who, as well as his wife, two sons, and three daughters, to say nothing of the dogs,—are extremely anxious to show me every civility. The weather is splendid-if it does but last. This is one of those bright dazzling August mornings of which we have, perhaps, three or four in the course of our English summer; just enough to enable us to comprehend the sarcasm of the Persian

ambassador, who, when asked whether it was really true that the Persians worshipped the sun, said, "Yes, and so would the English if they ever saw him!"

I was in some doubt the first morning whether I should be able to get my morning cold bath,-to me an essential of life. But I am accommodating-being indifferent whether I baptize by "sprinkling," "affusion," or "immersion," though I prefer the last. On the present occasion, I was accommodated with a washing-tub and a huge water-pot (without the “rose”), full of water. My host was about to pour its contents into the tub. But seeing the thing so handy, and as it was a growing morning, I asked for the " rose ;" and, becoming at once plant and gardener, stood in the tub, and lifting the water-pot over my head, shower-bathed it to my great satisfaction, and I hope with some benefit to my stature. I infer it may be so from the difficulty I afterwards felt in shaving, which could surely only have been from my beard having grown rapidly. I state the fact with the impartiality of a philosopher, without deciding whether it was due to the watering-pot or a bad razor; pray choose your hypothesis.

By the way, talking of shaving, what a prodigious number of fantastical beardlets I have seen in my recent journey! The other day, on stepping into a railway carriage, I found the opposite seats occupied by three hirsute gentlemen, who, if they had not been so young, would have looked quite venerable, and filled me with the like awe which seized the Gauls when they spied the long-bearded senators in the Roman Capitol. I really begin to fear that the abominable appendage is about to be restored among us. I met a youngster the other day whose beard was just in the worst possible "stage of development:" that is, he had got a minikin tuft on his chin and a thin crop on his upper lip, which simply had the effect of making him look execrably dirty. He held with me a learned argument for the retention of the excrementitious capillaries. Though not old enough to have a beard, he was old enough to be an Atheist, which he owned with that sweet complacency with which so many sucking philosophers of our day, after reading Comte or the "Vestiges," do the like.