power of kindness to produce reformation in the wicked and depraved, or in the passionate, vindictive, and revengeful, has frequently been most strikingly illustrated. To the ordinary worldly and unreflecting mind many of the maxims of the New Testament seem never to have been designed for any liberal acceptance, and they accordingly explain them altogether away. To give the other cheek to be smitten by him who has already unprovokedly smitten the one; to give the cloak also to him who has taken the coat; to extend the utmost returns of love for the strongest manifestations of enmity and hatred, seem to the untaught mind as mere figures of speech; yet even these have been tried and practised in their literal sense, and have been found productive of the happiest and most gratifying results.

The power of kindness to produce reformation is nobly illustrated in a story from real life, narrated in the "Monthly Repository" for August 1825, and which the editor observes he extracted from a letter addressed to himself:

"Seven or eight years before his decease, our friend found that one of his clerks had wronged him considerably, and, I believe, even put his life into his power. Without appearing to have discovered the circumstance Mr. desired the young man to come to his dwelling-house in the afternoon. He watched for his arrival, opened the door himself, and after leading him up intc

the chamber and locking the door, informed him that all his conduct was made known. Pale and trembling, the offender dropped upon his knees; the master bade him not be terrified at the punishment, but think of the guilt of the deed which he had done, and after saying as much as he thought would be profitable, he left him, carrying the key from the outside of the door. Before night he took him refreshments, talking to him again, and desiring him to go to bed and reflect. When the succeeding day drew to a close he visited him for the last time, saying, 'I now come to release you; here is a letter to a friend of mine in London who knows nothing of your crime, and will give you immediate employment. Here is money,' added he, putting a purse into his hand, to support you till your quarter's salary becomes due.' He then conducted him out of the house unseen by any one. This benevolent treatment awakened the gratitude and effected the reformation of the young man, who now bears a respectable character."

Such was the result of kindness in this case. Had harshness and retaliation been substituted for it, it would not have been surprising if the clerk, instead of becoming "a person of highly respectable character," had gone deeper into crime, and ended his days either in Botany Bay or on the gallows, as many a one has done before and since he was melted by subduing affection.

Another example, of an entirely different character, may be accepted as a pointed illustration of the literal practice of the maxim already referred to-"To him that taketh your coat give your cloak also:

"The late Dr. Bowditch of Salem, Massachusetts, was a man as eminent for his great and useful talents, as he was beloved by all who were acquainted with him. An instance is related of him, which is a complete manifestation of obedience to the command, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.'

"Dr. Bowditch had been preparing a plan of Salem, which he intended soon to publish. It had been the fruit of much labour and care. By some means or other an individual in town surreptitiously got possession of it, and had the audacity to issue proposals to publish it as his own. This was too much for Dr. Bowditch to bear. He instantly went to the person, and burst out in the following strain:-'You villain ! how dare you do this? What do you mean by it? If you presume to proceed any further in this business I will prosecute you to the utmost extent of the law.' The poor fellow cowered before the storm of his indignation, and was silent-for his wrath was terrible. Dr. Bowditch went home and slept on it; and the next day, hearing from some authentic source that the man was extremely poor, and had probably been driven by the necessities of his family to

commit this audacious plagiarism, his feelings were touched, his heart relented, his anger melted away like wax. He went to him again, and said: 'Sir, you did very wrong, and you know it, to appropriate to your own use and benefit the fruit of my labours. But I understand you are poor, and have a family to support. I feel for you, and will help you. That plan is unfinished, and contains errors that would have disgraced you and me had it been published in the state in which you found it. I'll tell you what I will do. I will finish the plan, I will correct the errors, and then you shall publish it for your own benefit, and I will head the subscription list with my name.'"

This delightful anecdote perhaps more directly illustrates the consistent carrying out of the principle, than the reaping of its direct rewards. Yet the benevolent and generous Christian physician had doubtless a far more ample reward, even in the pleasure he derived from the fruits of his self-denying liberality, than he could have acquired by any credit to be obtained from his plan of Salem, though that also he ultimately reaped, along with the far nobler credit of his generous deed. He gained a self-approving conscience instead of a doubtful triumph, and of an enemy made a friend.

The last, indeed, is not seldom the most gratifying reward which results from the conscientious practice of the commands of our divine Master, and even in the

practices of the world, when, following a far lower standard of excellence, we frequently witness an approximation to the true standard of rectitude meet with a corresponding return, as in the following sufficiently simple yet pleasing example of an enemy converted into a friend :

Some Indians, in March 1783, attacked and scattered in every direction a party of men, women, and children, belonging to a settlement established in Kentucky by a brother of the celebrated Daniel Boone. Colonel Floyd, having heard of the affair, instantly collected twenty-five men, and hastened to the place of battle. The colonel was very nearly losing his life; but Captain Wells noticing that he was on foot, and that the enemy was after him, generously gave up his own horse, mounted the colonel upon it, and then walked by the side of the horse to support Floyd, lest he should faint from his wounds and fall off. "This act of Captain Wells," says the original narrator of the anecdote, was the more magnanimous, as Floyd and himself were not friends at the time. But the consequences of this very generous conduct were most excellent. The enmity of Floyd was destroyed, and he and Wells were ever after firm and steadfast friends."

Most of our readers, we presume, are familiar with an anecdote of the once celebrated and benevolent Dr Woodward, an English physician of the eighteenth