arguments or his talents had a ny effect. And without deigning to reply to him, they voted almost unanimously to call a pious young man to the charge of their congregation, whom their late pastor had earnestly recommended as his successor. Need I describe the sullenness, the malice, the disappointment which disfigured the countenance of this incendiary? He retired home to wreak on his family that vindictive humour to which his fellow citizens in public were impenetrable. He forbade their attendance on the ordination, and commanded them never to appcar at meeting. Strange is the inconsistency of man! He, whose sole God was reason, and who pretended that he could overthrow the whole system of religion by argument, was unable to obtain among the meanest of his dependants a single proselyte, and was obliged almost to resort to physical force in order to ensure their outward acquiescence in his wishes and opinions! Nature, as I before intima ted, had given Mr. Evanson a mind of a respectable order. He had been early fond of books, and was habituated to reflection on certain subjects, respecting which his prejudices had not been unhappily excited. He could be agrecable in conversation. He could contribute amusement and information. He was himself delighted to learn. But he was situated in a wilderness, as it respected every thing be longing to philosophy or literature. There lived but one person near him, who was at at all qualified for such an intercouse as he would gladly cultivate. But that person was his hated minister! How many pangs and struggles would agitate his mind at the thought of this circumstance! How often would he inwardly murmur that his imaginary foe united to the advantages of a public education the worthlessness of piety. "Perhaps," he would say to himself, "this priest might solve many diffi culties which nature presents before me. Perhaps he could enlarge and improve my mind by communicating the results of his studies on some of my favourite subjects. But shall I undergo the mortification of retracting? Shall I court his acquaintance? Shall I be on terms of friendship with a priest?" He lost sight of his virtues, his knowledge, his innocence and worth, and he thought only of the character that he had gathered from books, heightened and aggravated by the ribaldry of Paine, and the workings of his own dark imagination. These two persons would of course sometimes encounter each other in society. The marks of deference, untinged by the least particle of superstition, which were constantly paid to the clergyman, could not but excite the uneasiness and envy of his unaccountable enemy. And yet Mr. Evanson's good sense would often make him perceive,the invaluable influence which the pas tor exercised over his flock. Amidst a society of labourers, and mechanics, and tradesmen, he saw one person at least who could think and study for the others. There was a guide for conversation; there was an authority in disputes; there was a source of information; there was an example of deportment, all united in that one person; and yet no assumptjon of superiority, no interference in debate, no vanity of communication, and no authority of demeanour, to shock, or disgust, or repulse. Thus the idea of the priest would often momentarily slide out of Mr. Evanson's mind, and he would think that he was listening only to the gentleman and the scholar, and if he brought malice and hatred along with him, he certainly carried some knowledge and gratification a way. Nearly in this position did circumstances remain for several years. The pastor grew stronger in the affections of his flock, his usefulness among them increased, and his fame extended more and more through all the surrounding churches. Time and reflection likewise gradually smooth ed away many of the rough parts of the infidel's character. He saw that the most principled men were in general the most religious; he witnessed the different effects of his own mode of bringing up his children and that of his pious neighbours in bringing up theirs. Especially, he had opportunity to observe, that owing to different circumstances con of the church, and the preva lence of more correct and enlarged conceptions respecting the institutions of the gospel, the priesthood of modern times are wholly unlike the priesthood of ecclesiastical history. Besides, age was now creeping on apace; the flush and the self-importance of maturity had subsided; the world about him seemed bereft of that stamp of eternity and undecaying vigour, which the sciousness of his own strength had formerly lent to it; the pride of reason had too often been checked and mortified still to believe itself omnipotent; he felt his own helpnessness; he would cling to some higher power if he could; he would cultivate an intercourse with the unseen world, with the 'Maker of his frame; but, who shall be the medium? who shall relieve that cloud of distressing doubts, which had so long darkened his soul, who shall meet all his blasphemous scruples, and crush them? who shall vindicate for him the ways of God to man, and lead him in the way which is everlasting? He knew of but one person, whose manner of life, whose education, whose experience, whose course of thinking, whose character, rendered him a proper confident in this trying season. Oh, how humbled were his feelings! But the complacency of his most intoxicated pride had never given him any thing like the sweet satisfaction which that humility imparted now. He sought the society of him, whom he had leng had His shunned, he scarcely knew heart had a feeling quite tions; and when he looked upon the small sphere around him, he had no reason to doubt that the same exertions were equally efficacious on the experience of his friends and neighbours. He saw much happiness flowing from the ministrations of the sanctuary; he saw life there under its best and noblest forms, and he saw as well as felt the most undeniable and manifest improvement of character arising from the preaching of one man. He had therefore a right to conclude that such were the excellent effects of the labours of the enlightened clergy throughout the christian world. By the united misfortune and fraud of a friend for whom he had become responsible to a large amount, he saw very nearly the whole of his estate seized and conveyed from his possession. In declining years, and with a large family around him, he could not but feel this stroke severely. Indeed, acHenceforth he became the cording to his own confession, constant frequenter of public his sensations would have been worship. In consequence, he stung to madness, had it not grew more and more attached been for the mild interposito one, who led his devotions, tion and heavenly advice, and who directed his thoughts to sweet consolations which were proper subjects of religious lent him by his minister. With meditations, who taught him what peculiar effect did lesespecially how to think, and sons of fortitude and resignawho, by showing him from tion now come from one, who time to time, the workings of was himself never immersed in the human heart, and the fac- the cares and perplexities and ulties of the human soul, com- worldliness of this mortal life! municated to him the invalua- How disinterested his sympable arts of self-knowledge, and thy! How powerful his exhorself-government. This he tations! Who but a person tofound in his own case to be tally separated from the toilthe effect of pulpit ministra- some routine and the strug gles of rivalry in which the majority of mankind are involved, could so well command the unfortunate bondsman to set his thoughts and affections rather on things above than on things on the earth? The person, whose simple narrative we are relating, felt this, and had reason to bless heaven for the institution of a christian priesthood. This person had a son, for whom his heart felt more than the usual fondness of a father. Every gift of genius, many splendid virtues, and many of the milder attractions belonged to his character. But long before his reason opened, he had become a convert to his father's infidelity. The seeds were sown too early and too deep to be rooted up at pleas ure. The conversion of the parent was not accompanied by the conversion of the child. religion was too strongly for tified by passion, by youthful confidence, by the pride of opening reason, and by the sarcastic vigilance of gay companions, to resign its possession of the young man's soul. The life he had led, was a practical commentary on the lessons and example he had received. At the loss of his father's property, he plunged deeper into excesses. His vices were not checked, they only became meaner, and his father saw too plainly that he was irrevocably given up to ruin. Few can imagine the agonies of recollection and anticipation which thus harrassed the old man's soul. And few, who have not felt the pow. er of religion, can imagine the mitigations which were poured into it, by the voice of one, whose sole business it was, like his master, to go about doing good. In a word, the conversation of a priest healed the very despair which could trace its origin up to the mistaken hatred of priests. But this was not all. He had a daughter to whom he looked to smooth and soften the pillow of his age by her cares, and to perfume it by her virtues. She was to him a jewel of excellence, a flower of beauty-his pride and his idol, and the charm of his existence. But the tomb claimed her, and left him-no, not desolate. The common friend of both remained behind. He remained behind, who, as he wiped away his own tears, taught the bereaved father by example, as well as by precept, the art of religious consolation. How weighty, how forcible, how efficacious, came that consolation from the mouth of the minister of God! From him, who professed to stand as a link between the seen and the unseen worlds! Had no other circumstance occurred to reconcile Mr. Evanson to our clergyman, yet that reconcili. ation must have taken place inevitably, in consequence of the devout and sympathetic supplication offered up to the God of all grace and consoJation, on the day that his daughter was consigned to the grave. The most hardened infidel opens his ear to the voice from the sanctuary, when sorrow and crushed ten derness have closed it upon lone together for an hour. The whole family were then called in, and after a solemn, and pathetic address, in which he bade them farewell, and bequeathed to them the richest treasures of advice, these were the last words he ever uttered: "And above all, you will exercise an undiminished and perpetual reverence for the ministers of religion. Had it not been for him who now stands at the side of my MR. EDITOR, CONSOLATION FOR MOURNERS. I HAVE been sometime a widow, but when Heaven took away my husband, he left me one comfort, a child, a daughter, to moderate the sorrows of my condition. She reached her twentieth year, and was, what for me to say, would be supposed to be a mother's fondness; let others praise her; my life was wrapt up in her, nor was her duteous return of gratitude less than my affection. I have lost her; death has torn her from my arms. For two months I was inconsolable, my tears flowed incessantly, and, like Rachel, I refused to be comforted A kind, unknown friend sent me the enclosed letter which con vinced me that my immoderate sorrow was folly and impiety. I have tried to conquer my affliction, and submit to the will of Heaven. My loss is not uncommon, and those reasons which have been of so much use to me, may possibly, in the like case, afford comfort to others. I send them to you that they may be communicated to the public. The office you assume, demands of you every action of humanity, and none can be more truly so than to comfort the afflicted, and calm the stormy soul to peace. I am, &c. |