Societies, call upon a minister too frequently for his own spiritual prosperity. This is the case, especially, if he be a person of talent, who has a knack of speaking extemporarily, in lively and interesting manner. It seems ungracious to deny such invitations; it is hardly a man's duty wholly to withdraw himself from such engagements. Yet, surely, it admits of at least equal doubt, whether it is his duty to accept so many of these as shall interfere with his more personal and nearer duties, either to his flock, or to his family. At any rate, the negligence it induces, as to all that his children's education may demand of him, is very visible, and very lamentable too. Their conduct, in after years, may give him to view such pursuits in another light, when the clapping popularity of them has ceased to echo, and the hooting unpopularity of his son's delinquency becomes loud and lasting. Öther vineyards have I kept, but my own vineyard have I not kept.

I have known ministers send their sons to boarding school, from the utter impossibility they found in attending to their education, arising from such circumstances as these. In this case, all that belongs to parental zeal, and affection, and piety, is lost; and the boys must take their chance as other boys do. If, when they have mingled with the follies and vices of fifty or sixty other families, they turn out well, there is occasion for much thankfulness; but not to the parent, who forced his children to pass the fiery ordeal.

When ministers keep their sons at home, under their own eye, the Sabbath evening used to be a season well and profitably devoted to their pious instruction. One might hope such fatherly intercourse, mutual converse, and mutual prayer, might have sweet

influence many ways, and a rich blessing from the common Father of all; from him who hath said, Bring the little children to me.

But now evening lectures, either at home, or in the villages, call a man who wishes to be useful, far away from those domestic scenes, those melting moments of a parent's most exalted affections. Much good has been done by village preaching, and evening lectures; their efficacy demands that they be laboriously attended to, with all the power and talent a man has, who wishes for the welcome commendation of, well done thou good and faithful servant.

Yet the consequent loss to his offspring where a minister has a rising family, is seriously to be deplored; and if possible to be obviated, by extra attentions at some other seasons. At any rate, a very great portion of that advantage for pious education, which we suppose a minister's children to enjoy, is cut off, and absolutely lost.

When these things are well considered, it will be found, that so far from a minister's children being better brought up than the children of other serious persons; the probability is, that of necessity they have less attention paid to them, both in their infancy and their childhood.

Mere instructions given, is indeed but a small part of education, yet these must be greatly deficient. But the main deficiency consists in the loss of an ever watchful eye, and constantly regulating authority; that affectionate expostulation, when any thing wrong is done; or that prayer over the offending culprit, which may impress his mind more than stripes, and may gain, by a blessing upon fatherly correction, an efficacy far beyond what any violence could be expected to produce.

Thus but little watched, taught,

corrected, and led to the throne of grace, is it wonderful, if under all these privations the mind is left wild, uncultivated, and like other soils, when neglected, becomes overgrown with every poisonous plant, and inhabited by every base or dangerous reptile. Perhaps it may be added, that the familiarity which such children have with the machinery of religion, may tend to weaken its influence. Religion itself, is a lovely, simple, and spiritual feeling of the heart; but the external means by which this is roused, animated, and ripened, are all human, and liable to great deterioration, according to the character, powers, disposition, and conduct, of those who operate herein. We have this treasure in earthen vessels, says the Apostle; the coarseness, the frailty, the crumbling nature; nay, the cracks and holes, and leakage, suggested by this metaphor, are but too truly emblematical of the humours and failings, the false motives, or unworthy conduct of those by whom, nevertheless, the Gospel is preached-preached faithfully and usefully, in a manner which evinces, that divine blessing comes, notwithstanding these infirmitiescomes so to show that the excellency of the power is with God.

Serious people, of all ranks, had need be extremely careful how they behave before their children at home: they may do religion great honour by a little carefulness, which will also be of great service to their own spiritual feelings. They may, too, by a contrary conduct, do the cause of vital piety great disservice, and bring irreparable injury upon their children and servants. These do not love the strictness enjoined; they will be very apt to watch the conduct of their superiors with great jealousy. Happy is that master, that mistress of a family, who does not, by domestic conduct, give to scrutinizing eyes cause to suspect

the reality of professions made; to doubt if Sabbath seriousness is not put on for the occasion, like their best clothes; and like them too, put off again for the whole week.

Ministers had need be doubly cautious, as their children come behind the scenes, and soon find it out, if the heroes and the beauties of public exhibition wear a different appearance when not publicly seen. Voltaire, I think, said, that "no man is a hero to his valet." I should be loth to turn the words, and say, no minister is a saint to his wife and children. I believe many are all of a piece; devoted, serious, humble, both at home and abroad. But I do not scruple to say, it requires not only grace, but great watchfulness, and selfdenial, to attain a character, a conduct so honourable, yet evidently so suitable to, so necessary for, the man of God.

Not that a minister can be always preaching-nature and propriety forbid it. Nay, the grander doctrines of the Gospel demand more seriousness than domestic scenes can at all times allow. Yet a minister should always seem as if he were ready for preaching, if he were to be called to it unexpectedly; should appear as if his heart were in the service, although his tongue may be conversant, at that moment, with the prattle of his babe.

The congregation have great advantages in this repect; they see him only when he appears as the minister. They have every reason, therefore, to suppose he is in earnest, that he means what he says, and feels what he recommends. In public service, if worthy the name, (for some are evidently playing a part,) he brings his whole soul to the work. His understanding enlightened, by the study of sublime and important truths; his affections roused, to wish these truths their proper influence upon his hearers; and all his powers of mind and

body on the full strain, to set them forth, so as that rational creatures may be suitably moved thereby; although he knows, that the spiritual efficacy comes from another, a much higher source. It will be no wonder if the people think highly, possibly of his talents, but certainly of his pious zeal. Should they ever doubt it, his usefulness among them would cease.

When the minister visits his people, he goes as a minister. Possibly his errand is to visit the sick, when, of course, serious and spiritual converse may be expected. Or he purposely aims to gain access to the mind of some hearer, whom he understands, or hopes, to be serious; his address on such an occasion, is naturally affectionate, and full of evangelical topics, such as exalt him in the estimation of the wise and good. Nay, when his visits are only those of friendship, to take a dinner, or to meet a party at tea, he hardly can forget his ministerial character; the arm chair, and the seat next the fire, remind him of it. Without preaching, he will, if he finds opportunity, introduce some useful or serious topic. Or should he perceive the current of hilarity too strong for such subjects as he best would like, (as a feast is made for laughter,) he yet is careful not to let down his own respectability, by any thing tending to buffoonery; and, perhaps, after a while, finds something more in character for himself becomes possible. Towards the close of the visit, the Bible is brought, a word of exhortation is given, and prayer concludes. In all these situations the people see him as a minister. Ill-nature itself can scarcely find fault, or question the reality of his piety, or the powerful influence upon himself of the truths he so seriously inculcates.

It would be hard judgment to say this is all hypocrisy, that the character is assumed for the occaNEW SERIES, No. 14.

sion. Nothing is assumed, for the feelings are real, the occasion only draws them out. He loves his Master, and his Master's work; he believes, therefore does he speak. Those who conceive him to be a serious and devout Christian, do him only justice. And in so deeming of him, they do themselves justice too; as hereby they give a weight to his opinions, admonitions, or advice, such as it ought to have, if it is to do them any real good, if it is to have a beneficial influence on their own minds, feelings, conduct, and cha

racter.

But whoever sees him as a minister, his children, of necessity, see him as a man, in all the moments of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, and infirmity; as who is perfect.

No man can be always preaching, nor have his mind fully bent, and in action. On the contrary,

relaxation is always in proportion to over excitation. He who has watched, or fought, or laboured, with the greatest energy, will be most ready to fall asleep, when the season of repose is fairly come. It will be no wonder, therefore, if the man who has been on the full stretch, studying, or preaching, should, among his family, unbend his every faculty, and descend to be the mere husband, and the father; sensations these which refresh the weary, if not over-wearied, and recruit the flagging spirit, by the gentle feelings which they occasion to glow about the heart.

May he play with his babe, or romp with his boys, or help those a little older to play at shuttlecock; do not deny him these natural pleasures; do not say, he has forgotten either the Saviour, or the Sabbath; he is but gaining power hereby for fresh services. He who has bestowed on him these precious gifts, wishes him to enjoy them. Children are an heritage of the Lord, and L

the fruit of the womb is his reward; he has made them lovely and interesting, that he may be delighted with and interested in them. He who made woman a help-meet for man, and brought her to him for his solace, gave her those beauties and blandish ments, both of body and mind, which tend to soothe him in his labours, and make him forget his toils. Let him rejoice with the wife of his youth.

But with his children he must laugh, and rattle, and rhodomontade: who would talk philosophy, or even common sense, to a baby? He must run, or seem to run, after some; or there would be no fun in his not catching them. He must exercise their opening talents with puzzles, and witticisms; or they will grow dull, stupid, and lifeless; quite out of character for the animality of their age, in which intellectuality is but in the bud.

Nay, what seems worse, he must laugh-nay, for his own health's sake, he must laugh, and heartily too, to shake off the tre pidations, and to frighten away the megrims. It is the natural and best method of keeping off the doctor, and setting nurses at defiance.

Now, this same laughing has seemed, to wiser folks than children; to be at utter variance with seriousness of character. It will be no wonder if this part of their parental intercourse dwells more on the imagination of the playful troop, than all the Sabbath services; most of which, we may suppose, they as yet scarcely understand. It will be no wonder if they should recollect some of these scenes of merriment, even when papa is in the pulpit. And it will be no wonder if with these recollections should be coupled a feeling, at least, that the seriousness exhibited and recommended from thence, is not absolutely necessary, seeing he often appears

so very different. They have not yet learnt the rule, that every thing is beautiful in its season; that there is a time to laugh, as well as a time to weep.

Again, they not only see him as a man, in all the harmless hilarities of bodily vigour, and mental playfulness; but, possibly, he may have infirmities, which occasion to himself much remorse, which give to his best friends sympathizing regret, if their intimacy allows them to be acquainted with them. These will appear, to the unbalanced judgment of his children, of a deep hue, as soon as they begin to reason, to observe discrepancies, and form excuses for the improprieties in their own conduct.

Possibly he does not live up to his sermons. The character he exhibits in words is perfect: it ought to be so; the work herein is easy. But the character he exhibits in actions is deteriorated by much infirmity; for here the work is difficult: supposing his care equal, the attainment of his object is much more laborious; and, perhaps, his care here is not equal, nor his watchfulness sufficient, over himself, when he supposes no eye is on him which he needs to fear; nor his self-denial on the alert, when he conceives himself quite at liberty.

No doubt, a minister of the Gospel ought to be perfect in his day and generation; or, let his fellow-saints say, he ought to aim at it. He should be, at home and abroad, always the exemplary Christian. But this sort of perfection is not of easy attainment. At home, where a man is much off his guard, if his natural temper is rugged, its ruggedness will appear

at home, where, it is probable, many causes of angry excitement are continually occurring. Those who witness such scenes should sigh over him; but his children, who feel the soreness, or the oppres

sion, will be more apt to murmur than to pity; to blame their parent, than to soothe his agitated feelings; or avoid their own share in the unhappy occasions of his anger. In judging of his character, they will forget the minister, and only recollect the man; or, if they recollect both characters, will be apt to imagine he cannot mean all he says in the way of exhortation, or that, in the doctrine of divine mercy, he finds something that allows of such improprieties. It will be no wonder if they suppose that themselves have also similar liberty to indulge each his natural propensity to evil, of whatever nature it may be.

THERE was a remote period in the history of the world when nature first began to feel the curse of God for sin. The beasts of the forest with unwonted ferocity preyed on man, and the more timid animals fled on his approach. The fruits of the earth were cultivated and gathered with labour, and the mines yielded their unwilling product only to toilsome and iterated exertion. The hours of inactivity, for rest they could not be called, were passed in murmurings at providence, and in natural contentions. The weary labourer sat solitary, with clouded brow and sullen aspect; or if a group assembled together, they met only to bewail their wretchedness, and to forget their own misery in plotting the misery of others. A death-like gloom appeared on the face of nature. Nothing broke the awful silence, but the occasional burst of execration, or the frantic cry of despair. It seemed like a presage

of the world's dissolution: a stillness never interrupted but by convulsive struggles. At such a time it was that there first appeared in the romantic glen, near which the family of men then lived, a being of exquisite beauty and gracefulness. His vesture, negligently cast around him, appeared both to hide and augment the elegance of his. form. He carried in his hands a number of reeds of unequal size, but so united together as to give at once the idea of diversity and union, of simplicity and art. He applied these reeds to his lips, and produced from them such sounds as broke the spell under which nature laboured. They sounded like the echo of those principles of harmony upon which the great Architect of nature had framed his works like the unison of the human soul with universal reason. He struck the chord of feeling, and the sympathetic soul trembled at the touch. Some wept, and in the luxury of overstrained sensibility found relief in tears. Others gazed in animated silence, and with impassioned eyes beamed forth the raptures of their soul. Some were melted into calm serenity and languor. Nor were the effects confined to man. The monarch of the forest crouched his sinewy strength, and gazed with composed visage on the stranger. The feathered tribes forbore their flight, and in the intermissions of his harmony endeavoured to imitate and recal his notes. He played, and as he played nature regained her breath. He ceased, and man returned to labour with redoubled strength, and eased his toils by singing the praises of his Maker, and the beauties of creation. Such is the origin of music, and all our subsequent attempts at harmony are but imitations of those unearthly sounds. The ancients attributed music to the motion of the spheres, meaning, by this figure, that the orderly revolutions of the heavenly