Chapter VIII: Part 8

"I have often told Mr. Roscoe," said Mr. Stevens, "that he will ultimately believe the same doctrines with myself, and now I perceive there is a chance of it; for in the event of the decease or the preferment of the Rev. Mr. Cole, the living will be presented to an evangelical clergyman."

"Well, if that should be the case, I will break up my establishment, and reside elsewhere."

"But this," observed Mr. Lewellin, "would be running away from your maxim, that the people should believe, without examination, the doctrines which their clergy preach. Indeed, your maxim is as much opposed to _a fixed local residence as it is to a steadfast belief_, because you do not know but as soon as you have purchased your house, laid out your pleasure-grounds, and brought your garden to a high state of cultivation, an evangelical clergyman may be inducted into the living, and thus become the innocent occasion of making you literally a pilgrim, if not a stranger on earth."

"Would you, then, leave every individual in society to interpret the Scriptures according to his own judgment?"

"Certainly; Jesus Christ says, 'Search the Scriptures.' Now, if one person has a right to search the Scriptures, and to form his religious opinions from them, so has another; and if two, so have ten; and if ten, so have all."

"Then we shall have as many different religious opinions afloat in society as there are members; and I think it would be infinitely better to lock up the Bible in the cloister of the Romish monks than to circulate it."

"I grant that we shall have different religious opinions prevailing among us, but this circumstance will be more favourable to the religious improvement of the people than a dull uniformity. There is no nation in Europe where there are _more_ religious sects than in England, and there is no nation where there are _fewer_ than in Spain; but which of the two nations is the most intelligent, which the most powerful, and which the most free and the most religious? National uniformity is the stagnant water where the life of religious principle dies; but national freedom, which gives to every man the right to think and judge for himself, is the angel of mercy, preserving the truth in its purity amidst the conflicting elements of diverse opinions, causing it to have a free course and to be glorified."

"But would it not be better if we could all see alike on religious subjects? Then there would be no disputation, and Christianity would present to an unbeliever much stronger evidence of her divine origin."

Mr. Lewellin replied, "If we could all see the truth with the same clearness as the apostles saw it, and if we all felt its purifying influence on the heart as they felt it, we should then arrive at the highest pitch of human attainment; but this is a consummation rather to be desired than expected. It is evident that we have not attained this pitch of excellence; and, till we have, I think that common justice requires that we should concede to others the right which we claim for ourselves."

"Well, Sir, if I concede this, still I think that the different sects should keep distinct from each other. There should be no union, no combination; they should act apart and alone, move under their own standard, and sleep in their own tents."

"Mr. Roscoe is now," observed Mr. Stevens, "getting to his old objection against the Bible Society. He dislikes the union of the different denominations of Christians in that society. He thinks that the church has degraded herself by associating with the Dissenters in the circulation of the Scriptures."

"So it is," said Mr. Lewellin; "what one man considers an excellence another deems a defect. This very union is to me a most delightful subject of contemplation; it reminds me so much of the heavenly world, where all the redeemed mingle together in sweetest harmony, after the jarring discords of earth have ceased to annoy and disturb."

"But if we are distinct, let us keep distinct."

"But, Sir, we may differ on some points, and yet agree in others; and the same reason which would keep us distinct on points of difference, should bring us together on points of agreement. For example, you may be most attached to the monarchical branch of our constitution, Mr. Stevens to the aristocratical, and I to the republican. Here we should differ, but yet we may agree to defend it against a common foe. Now, shall our difference on these points prevent our uniting in its defence?"

"Certainly no; he who would not unite with his countrymen in the defence and support of the constitution, ought not to partake of the benefits which it confers."

"I thank you, Sir, for this concession; you have fairly awarded to me my point. Difference on some subjects ought not to prevent a union on others. We differ on some religious subjects, but we all profess to love the Bible, and to revere it as the standard of truth; why, then, should we object to co-operate with each other in circulating it through the world? The Bible Society I contemplate as the temple of peace. When we enter we lay aside the weapons of hostility, and mingle together as the professed disciples of Jesus Christ; and after thus fraternizing for a common object, we retire without having surrendered the smallest atom of the respective opinions and practices by which we are distinguished; and I am conscious that the intercourse will have a good moral influence over us, by diminishing the force of our mutual jealousies, and promoting a kind and affectionate spirit among us."

"I have often thought," said Mr. Stevens, "when I have had the pleasure of being present at a Bible society anniversary, of the beautiful lines which Milton represents Adam as addressing to Eve, after they had wearied themselves with mutual accusations:--

'But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive,
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden in our share of woe.'"

"I think," said Miss Roscoe, "that the spirit of Christianity is a spirit of universal benevolence, and I see no reason why it should exclude any from its communion who profess to have embraced it. If the disciples of Jesus Christ will meet at last in heaven, and lose their sectarian designations in the more grand appellation of the redeemed, why should they object to associate together on earth? Surely it is no dereliction of Christian principle to take the example of the spirits of just men made perfect as a model for our own conduct, while we are in this imperfect state."

"I see," said Mr. Roscoe, "if the question of the Bible Society is to be carried by numbers, that I shall be out-voted; but still, though it may do some good, and display a kind and benevolent spirit, yet I fear it is productive of many evils. For example, a Dissenter gives away a Bible to a poor family, accompanied by his own reflections; will he not, at the time he make the donation, say something that may have a tendency to proselyte that family to his own peculiar tenets?"

"He may, Sir; but has not the Churchman the same liberty? Hence, on a supposition that they both aim at proselyting, their chance of success is reciprocal; and if they both succeed, the relative numbers of each denomination stand unaltered. But I do not think that such a spirit actuates the great body of the members of the Bible Society. They circulate the Scriptures without note or comment, and leave them under the blessing of Him, who employs the truth they reveal, as the means of enlightening the ignorant and sanctifying the impure. To them the question of conformity or dissent is a question of minor importance; and I can attest, as far as my knowledge extends, that their paramount anxiety is to promote the spiritual and eternal benefit of those to whom the donation is given, not to augment their relative numbers."

"But I think that every Churchman ought to support the church of which he is a member."

"And do you imagine," replied Mr. Stevens, "that the circulation of the Scriptures without note or comment will endanger the safety of the church? What is this but virtually acknowledging that our church is not established on the foundation of the apostles and prophets?"

"I do not intend to insinuate that it is not supported by the authority of the Scriptures, but still I think that if the Book of Common Prayer be circulated with the Bible, the attachment of the people for the church is more likely to be preserved."

"But," said Mr. Lewellin, "this will involve a concession which probably you will not like to place on record; it is conceding that the Bible alone will not support your church, but that it must stand indebted to the Book of Common Prayer; a concession from which, I am sure, my friend Mr. Stevens will dissent."

"Oh! Mr. Stevens," said Mr. Roscoe, with a smile of good-nature, "is more than half a Dissenter already; and I often tell him that he will soon become as zealous as the strictest of the sect. There is a substantial proof of my assertion" (pointing to the chapel, which was visible from the room in which we were sitting).

"Ah! friend Roscoe, I know you do not like my chapel, but I hope that I shall see you there the next time I have a charity sermon for Mrs. Stevens' Sunday-school. Your friend, Mr. Green, was there the other Sunday evening, and he has called on me since to say that he shall be happy to co-operate with me in promoting the moral welfare of the poor people in this neighbourhood; and who knows but your prejudices may ere long give way, and that we may all act in concert!"

"Yes, I heard of his having been at your chapel, and I must confess that I was astonished. Why, no man has talked more against your irregularities than he has; but now, such is the inconstancy of man, he is become an advocate of your opinions. But I am too old to change, and too much attached to consistency to deviate from the course I have followed for so many years. Even the eloquence of Mrs. Stevens, and that eloquence I know is powerful, would fail in producing any effect on my mind. I have many objections against educating the children of the poor, and more against worshipping in any other place than the Established Church, and I think that no force of argument would be sufficiently strong to overpower them."

"There are," said Mr. Lewellin, "the objections of prejudice, and there are the objections of reason; and though it is not always in our power to draw the line of distinction between them, yet we should attempt it. I lay it down as an axiom, which is founded in the very constitution of the human mind, that a child cannot discharge his duty till he knows what that duty is; he cannot know it till he is taught it; and the earlier the information is communicated, the sooner shall we secure his obedience, and the more uniform it is likely to become. Hence the necessity and utility of Sunday-schools."

I had hitherto sat silent, but now I related the conversation I had had with the little boy[7] whom I accidentally met in one of my morning rambles.

[7] See page 43.

"The shrewd intelligence of this boy may be a solitary instance," said Mr. Roscoe; "but I fear that the plan will be found productive of fatal consequences. Our poor population will grow genteel in their habits; proud and discontented, and unwilling to discharge the duties of their station; and by being taught to read, will become either religious disputants or avowed infidels."

"No, this is not a solitary instance of the utility of Sunday-schools. I can give many others." I then described the scene which I witnessed in the woodman's cottage, narrating, at the same time, the conversation which passed between myself and his dying child.[8] As I was telling this tale, a tear dropped from the eye of Miss Roscoe, and her countenance beamed with delight.

[8] See page 105.

"Ah! how I should like to have witnessed such a scene--a little girl languishing into life."

"Indeed, my Sophia," said Mr. Roscoe, with a tone somewhat harsh, "I should not like for you to have been present. This artificial excitement of the passions--this effervescence of feeling in the bosom of a child in the near approach of death, is no recommendation of the plan by which the effect is produced."

"Indeed, papa, I should like to have been present; it must have been a noble sight to witness a child rising to the contemplation of a state of future happiness; to have beheld the involuntary movements of her soul towards the source of all blessedness; and to have heard her speak in terms so delightful of the love of Christ, as the first moving cause of her love to him. I have seen many sights, but this surpasses all, possessing a radiance of glory which casts a dim shade on every other."

These remarks, which were made with a singular emphasis of tone, produced a powerful effect on the whole party; and though Mr. Roscoe was evidently displeased with the sentiments which they conveyed, yet he was delighted with the graceful vivacity of spirit with which they were expressed.

Mrs. Roscoe, who had taken no part in the conversation, now observed that she had no doubt but there were good and bad of all sorts, and that she thought every person ought to be left to choose his own religion; _only they should take care not to choose that religion which made them miserable_. Addressing herself to Mrs. Stevens, "I think a little religion a very good thing; and as our Maker has given us one day out of the seven to be religious in, I think that is quite enough; I should not like to be obliged to think and talk about religion all the week, and I often wonder how it is that you, who have so much of it at Fairmount, are not become weary of it altogether!"

"Why, the reason is, we love it; and, you know, people do not grow weary of that on which their affections are placed."

"But we are commanded 'not to be righteous over-much!'"

"We are so commanded; but we should be cautious lest we give a wrong meaning to that expression. Do you think it possible that we can love God too much; that we can love the Redeemer too much; that we can be too much attached to the great principles of justice, benevolence, or moral purity?"

"O no, certainly not; but then I think it possible for us to think and talk so much about religion as to render ourselves uncomfortable. Now I have heard some religious people speak with rapture about the happiness which they expect to enjoy in heaven, but as I know we cannot enter heaven till we leave earth, and that we must die first, I never make that the subject of conversation, or even reflection; for I always find that it casts a gloom over my mind, and makes me low-spirited."

"But ought we not, Madam, to prepare for death before it comes?"

"O yes, we ought to make our peace with God, certainly; and, as he is so merciful, he will be sure to give us time for it."

"What time did he give to Miss Walcote, who expired just as she had left the card-table?"

"To be sure that was a frightful event; but you know she was a most accomplished young lady, and had a good heart."

"Yes, Madam, she was amiable and accomplished; but how awful was it to pass from such scenes of human folly to the judgment-seat of Christ!--one moment shuffling the cards, the next listening to the final sentence, 'Come, ye blessed,' or 'Depart, ye cursed.'"

MISS ROSCOE.

There are periods in the history of life which give birth to events of such a peculiar order, that they not only contribute materially to our future happiness, but exert a powerful influence in the formation and in the complexion of our character. We are accidentally thrown into the company of a stranger; the stranger becomes a companion, the companion a friend; the friend is powerfully imbued with the spirit of Christ, capable of instructing and consoling us in seasons of perplexity and depression; and though we may not notice the original moving cause of the interview, yet the consequences resulting from it may be felt through life, and in another and better world.

It was the privilege of Miss Roscoe, when labouring under her mental depression, to find in Mrs. Stevens a friend eminently qualified not only to impart the sympathies of friendship, but to administer the consolations of religion. As she had passed through the same tumultuous and darkened scene, she knew how to guide the footsteps of another; and having "tasted that the Lord is gracious," and felt the moral efficacy of his death, she could speak on these sacred themes with a peculiar force of impression. Her skill in introducing religious subjects in conversation was great, and her news were clear and comprehensive. She minutely studied the peculiarities of the human character; observed the times, and seasons, and forms of its development; and while she rarely left an individual or a company without dropping some appropriate remark, she never obtruded her sentiments so as to make them unwelcome.

As Mrs. Stevens was walking one evening to her favourite retreat for meditation, she saw Miss Roscoe approaching, and after exchanging the customary salutations, the conversation turned on the subject of religion and a future state.

"My mind," said Mrs. Stevens, "has been dwelling with more than ordinary delight on the immortality of the soul. Immortality is the grand prerogative of man. He lives amidst the decay of his nature, survives his own dissolution, and lives for ever."

"How few," replied Miss Roscoe, "are impressed by this grand subject. Here and there I meet with an individual who is alive to the powers of the world to come; but the vast majority move onwards to the tomb, as though that receptacle of death was to terminate their existence. To me immortality is alternately a pleasing, and an awful theme of meditation. There are seasons when it is invested with a radiant brightness, which almost entrances my soul, and I am eager to join the general assembly of the redeemed; but at other seasons my mind recoils from the thought of dying, and I ask, in terror--

'Will it be morning then with me,
Awak'd to hail his glorious light:
Or must my doleful destiny
Be endless night?'"

"That the subject of immortality, preceded by dying, should present the varying aspect of delight and of terror, is not surprising. Some are in bondage all their life through fear of death, and others are _occasionally_ in a state of great alarm; but this proceeds either from the incorrectness of their views of the economy of revealed truth, or the weakness of their faith. They look for some degree of moral perfection in themselves, to which they never attain, rather than to Jesus Christ, in whom they are accepted as complete; or they hesitate to place an implicit dependence on his power and willingness to save them, lest they should be guilty of an act of presumption. But as the gospel is a revelation of grace to sinners, and as we are invited in the most encouraging language to receive it, we ought not to hesitate, or deem it presumptuous to do so. I remember hearing our venerable minister once conclude a sermon with this striking remark: 'Are you willing to be saved?' After a short pause, he added, 'Then Jesus Christ is willing to save you. You and the Saviour are both of one mind, and who can separate you?'"

"But I fear," said Miss Roscoe, "that I have not yet felt that deep contrition for sin which is essential to genuine repentance, and which must precede the exercise of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I recently read a sermon, in which the author says, that 'the sorrow which is connected with true repentance is not only sincere, but deep and pungent. It not only enters into the heart, but it penetrates into its inmost recesses, and there lives and reigns. It not only causes the tear to flow, and the breast to heave with the bitter emotions of anguish, but it is compared to the most acute sorrow which can pierce the human bosom; to the sorrow which chills the heart of a parent as he mourns the loss of a son, of an only son, of a first-born!' I know I have felt abased and humbled when reviewing my past life; and silently adore the long-suffering of God in bearing with me; but I am yet a stranger to that acute and overwhelming agony of soul which, in the estimation of this writer, is essential to genuine repentance."

"If, my dear, you have felt sorrow for sin, you need not be distressed because you have not felt it in its most intense and agonizing degrees. True repentance does not always burst forth in bitter lamentations and weeping, leaving the victim of its infliction an exile from all the comforts of life and all the promises of mercy--doomed, in his own apprehension, to a more awful banishment at the day of final decision; but it is often the silent tear, and the noiseless sigh--the self-loathing of the soul over its defects--which become daily more and more apparent, accompanied by an humble and implicit dependence on the death and mediation of Jesus Christ for pardon and endless life. The author from whose beautiful sermon you have quoted a passage, remarks towards the latter end of it, that 'heartfelt sorrow for sin is not opposed to happiness. The tears of penitence are not tears of unmingled bitterness. There is a joy connected with them which is as satisfying and exalting as it is purifying and humbling. God himself has pronounced the sorrow of the poor in spirit, blessed; and he has not blessed it in vain. His people taste its sweetness. Their happiest hours are those which are spent in the exercise of penitence and faith; and while these graces are in lively exercise, they may look on the inhabitants of heaven without envy, even though they may long to participate of their still more elevated enjoyments.'"

"Such a repentance I am conscious I have felt. I would not return to my former course of life, even if it were compatible with a religious profession; for I have lived a life of vanity, minding earthly things; my intellectual studies were pursued to gratify pride, which coveted the honour which comes from man; the claims of God, on the homage and supreme affections of the heart, I have neglected; the Redeemer I have neither loved nor honoured; I have spurned from my presence those religious principles which require a separation from the world, and have uniformly acted as though the realities of an unseen world were a mere fanciful creation; but now the delusion has vanished away, and I see with an unveiled face the supreme importance of those truths and sources of enjoyment which in the days of my ignorance were concealed from me; and if I have any regret, it is not because I have discovered the illusion so soon, but because I did not discover it sooner."

"It is recorded of one of the Roman emperors," said Mrs. Stevens, that he wept when he saw the statue of Alexander the Great, because Alexander had conquered the world at a period of life when he had gained no victory. And if you, my dear, have been later than some others in making your spiritual discoveries, and in gaining your spiritual conquests, I hope you will now distinguish yourself by a decision more firm, and a zeal more ardent, and redeem, for the honour of the Saviour, the time you have withheld from his service; and by carrying the principles of your faith to the highest possible attainments, you will compel others to see the effects which the grace of God produces in the human character."

On passing within sight of a cottage standing on a slight elevation, Miss Roscoe said, "That, I believe, is Mrs. Labron's, and I greatly admire it, it is such a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture, my favourite style of building, and its shrubbery and gardens are laid out and planted with so much taste."

"Yes, my dear, there is great external beauty, but within there is a sad spectacle of domestic sorrow and moral disfigurement. Her eldest daughter is rapidly fading away from life, under the withering influence of that disease which proves fatal to thousands; and I am informed that, to divert her attention from dying, she spends the greater part of her time either in reading novels or playing at cards; and though a minister of Jesus Christ, who has a slight intimacy with the family, expostulated with her on the impropriety of devoting herself to such amusements at such an eventful crisis, yet it made no impression on her; and her mother said, with an air of apathetic indifference, that as she was passionately fond of novels and cards, she thought it would be an act of cruelty to withhold them from her; adding that she had taken the sacrament, and made her peace with God! and that the physician particularly requested that no one be permitted to speak to her on religious subjects."

"This is appalling, truly awful; and yet how many modern Christians would give it the sanction of their decided approval. The physician requesting that no one may be permitted to speak to her on religious subjects! Oh, how cruel! What is this but interdicting the visit of mercy, and dooming a sinner to pass into the eternal world unprepared to die? I remember, at an early stage of my late affliction, the medical attendant urged upon my parents the necessity of keeping the Bible out of my reach, and they complied with his request; and that holy book, which reveals life and immortality, was kept out of my sight. Can you account for this most astonishing part of their conduct?"

"I can tell you the reason which they assign for it. They, I have no doubt, will say that the mind of a dying patient ought to be kept in a state of great composure; and concluding that religion will agitate and alarm, they forbid all reference to it."

"Poor creatures, how ignorant must they be of the nature and tendency of pure religious truth! If a person be renewed in the spirit of his mind, and if he feels the love of God shed abroad in his heart, there is no subject which will have such a delightful effect as the immediate prospect of entering heaven. I lately sat beside the bed of a dying Christian, who, not long before her departure, after praying in the language of Stephen, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,' repeated the following lines with an emphasis and melody of voice which still sounds in my ear:--

'Dissolve Thou the bond that detains
My soul from her portion in Thee:
O strike off these adamant chains,
And set me eternally free.

When that happy moment begins,
Array'd in thy beauties I'll shine;
Nor pierce any more with my sins
The bosom on which I recline.'

And if a person be ignorant of the scheme of salvation which is revealed in the Scripture, there is no subject which ought to be pressed more upon his attention. If he have but a short time to live, no portion of that time ought to be lost. To-day he is here--to-morrow in eternity. For the physician to interpose, to keep him in a state of ignorance, is an act of cruelty which no language can adequately describe; and, notwithstanding the frivolous reasons which he may assign for his conduct, it is an act for which he will stand responsible at the last day."

As I was returning from a solitary walk, I accidentally met the ladies, and on reaching the end of the grove through which we were passing, we seated ourselves on a garden chair, which stood under a very fine beech tree, from whence we had a distinct view of the rectory and its church, and also of Mr. Stevens' unobtrusive chapel.

"These Dissenting chapels," I remarked, "are what may be called ecclesiastic retreats; spiritual places of refuge for the gospel when it is driven out of the church."

"They are spiritual Bethels," Miss Roscoe replied, "where God unexpectedly visits his chosen ones with the manifestation of His unseen but not unfelt presence; often astonishing and delighting them; constraining them to exclaim, in the language of the venerable patriarch, '_Surely the Lord is in this place_.'"

"Yes," said Mrs. Stevens, "and sometimes in these chapels He conveys the grace of life to the spiritually dead. This reminds me of what I should have told you before, but it escaped my memory. You know that we have seen Mrs. Pickford at our chapel several times lately, and last Sabbath evening, when she was passing my pew after the close of the service, I spoke to her, expressing the pleasure I felt on seeing her there; and inquired after the welfare of Mr. Pickford and the family. She then very modestly, for she appears to be an amiable woman, referred to the benefit which had resulted from your visit, and asked me to remind you of your promise to visit them again."

"I intend to see Mrs. Pickford in the course of the week. I know, Madam, that you are partial to yon modest-looking chapel, but still, though its _internal glory_ may be greater than that of the church, yet it does not form such an imposing object in a piece of scenery."

"I admit that; but it often calls up, in a pious mind, an order of richer and more hallowed associations, and awakens a more sublime and elevating class of feeling. There is a church, with its Liturgy and its white-robed priest, yet from it the gospel is cast out; but it has taken refuge in what you call our modest-looking chapel, where it proves to be the power of God to salvation."

"I have been accustomed," said Miss Roscoe, "to attend that church from my childhood; the gentleman who does duty in it is a learned, polite, and amiable man; we have often spent many pleasant evenings together; he excels in music, and has a fine poetic taste; but I regret to add, he has a strong aversion to evangelical truth. He came to see me just as I was recovering from my late affliction, and when I made some reference to the influence which reading the Bible had over my mind, he said, 'I hope you will be on your guard, for you are now in great danger of becoming too religious. The mania has affected many amongst us, but I hope you have virtue enough to resist it.' He is rather lofty in his spirit, though very familiar when among the poor. His ideas of the dignity and excellence of human nature are diametrically opposed to the scriptural representation; and he asserted in the last discourse I heard him deliver, that the charge of a universal corruption having taken place among the members of the human family, was a gross libel on our virtue. 'There are a few imperfect,' he said, 'yet they have virtue enough left to atone for their defects; but the great bulk of mankind are as perfect as their Creator ever intended they should be.' He then adverted to the evangelical doctrines of faith, and salvation by grace through the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ, which he denounced as corruptions of Christianity, and warned the people against them, as being more pernicious to the peace and good order of society than the principles of open infidelity. On being asked by my father how I liked the discourse, I replied, 'Not at all, as Mr. Cole not only opposed the Scriptures, but the Articles of his own church;' and I then quoted the eleventh Article, which put an end to our conversation. I have not heard him since; for I think it wrong to sanction by my presence a style of preaching which is subversive of the entire scheme of salvation."

"It must be painful," I observed, "to be driven from the church by the introduction of erroneous doctrines; but it must _be more painful to a conscientious mind to sit and hear them_. Where do you now attend?"

"Alas! Sir, like the captives of Babylon, I am denied the privilege of worshipping in the temple, and, like them, I sit and weep over the desolation of Zion. But He who was a little sanctuary to them in the season of their captivity, visits me within the retirement of the closet, by the special manifestations of his holy presence. I asked permission the other Sabbath to go and hear the venerable Mr. Ingleby, but I was refused. Oh! this pierced me to the heart."

"But why did your father deny a request so reasonable?"

"He would not have done it if he had not been influenced by others; for such is the strength of his attachment for me, and such his devotedness to my happiness, that he has heretofore deemed no sacrifice too great, nor any indulgence too expensive to promote my comfort. But the Rev. Mr. Cole and some lay gentlemen have urged him to interpose his authority, to save me from what they call the delirium of religion. They tell him that his honour, his peace, and his influence, are all in jeopardy; and that if I am permitted to go on in my present course, nothing but inevitable ruin awaits me. By such stratagems they have induced him to act a part which I know is repugnant to the generous feelings of his nature; because he told me, at an early stage of my hallowed impressions, that if I found peace in religion, he would not presume to interfere."

"This trial," said Mrs. Stevens, "is not joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, it will yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness. Though it comes through a medium which invests it with a peculiar poignancy, and may throw a gloomy shade over all your hopes of future comfort, yet the Redeemer says, 'My grace shall be sufficient for thee, my strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness.' You have only to act wisely, and with decision; keep your conscience void of offence towards God and man; demonstrate, by the meekness of your disposition, and your efforts to please, that your religion is not the religion of fancy or of passion, but of principle; and then you will rise above the visible agents who are employed in conducting the machinery of Providence, to meditate on Him who sits behind the cloud that conceals Him from our sight, working all things after the counsel of His own will."

"I have known," I remarked, "some young Christians commence their religious profession under auspicious influences. They have been hailed by pious parents and pious friends with acclamations of joy; the spring-time of their spiritual existence has been free from the rude blasts of persecution; and they have advanced from stage to stage, with unobstructed and undiverted steps. I have known others rocked in the whirlwind, and cradled in the storm. They have had to contend with the principalities and powers of evil in their high places. They have been despised and rejected; and the reproaches of men have fallen upon them. But I generally find that opposition at the commencement of a religious profession has a beneficial rather than an injurious tendency. It forces its principles deeper into the mind. It consolidates them. It gives to them an energy which ultimately rises superior to resistance; a healthful vigour, which they rarely attain to when nourished by the fostering hand of parental solicitude; and it brings them forth into such visible and powerful manifestations, that even the enemies of our common faith are compelled to feel

'How awful goodness is!'"

"Yes, Sir," observed Mrs. Stevens, "and we should remember that those who oppose religion, when it takes possession of an individual mind, and exerts its influence over the visible actions of the life, often do it ignorantly. If they knew that they were attempting to resist the work of God in the new creation of the human soul, they would cease their opposition. But they do not. They have no conception of such a thing. They ridicule it as visionary; and if a person offer to prove, by sober arguments taken from the Scriptures, or from the Articles of our church, that such a new creation of the soul is a reality, and that it will develope itself precisely in that exterior form which they see exhibited in the conduct of those whom they oppose, yet they will refuse to hear. Their unfairness to meet the arguments in support of _the reality of the thing_, I grant, is very censurable; but it must be attributed to that judicial moral blindness which is one of the consequences of our apostasy from God, and which calls for the exercise of our forbearance and our tenderest pity. Hence, when we are reviled for our religion, we should not revile again; when we suffer, we should forbear to reproach; and commit our cause to Him who judgeth righteously."

* * * * *

In the course of the week I availed myself of the opportunity, during the absence of my esteemed friends from the villa, to go and take tea at Farmer Pickford's; and I was very much gratified by my visit. During the evening he made several references to his wife's attendance at the chapel; and at length he spoke out, by saying, "Mr. Stevens, I think, is about one of the best of us: he is very charitable to the poor, and so is his wife; and he is always willing to do any body a good turn when he can; and my wife says he is a capital preacher, but I can't think so."

"Have you ever heard him preach?"

"No, Sir, I must have an Oxford or Cambridge man. To speak my mind, Mr. Ingleby is the preacher for me. I never went into his church before you took lunch with us, but what you said then inclined me to go. Why, I would rather hear one of his _sarmunts_, than I would a score of Parson Cole's. He sends what he says _home here_," laying his hand on his heart; "but I can get a comfortable nap when Parson Cole is holding forth. We all go to church now on a Sunday morning, and I seem to like it; and the youngsters like it, and so do the sarvants. It helps to keep us in a bit better order. And wife often tells me she was never so happy in all her life as she is now; and that makes me feel a bit more comfortable, as I like to see smiling faces in my homestead."

I listened with some emotions of surprise and delight while he was running on in his tale of reformation, and, after a little hesitation, I ventured to propose reading a chapter of the Bible, and going to prayer.

"Ay, that's right, Sir. That puts me in mind of what I heard my uncle say, the last time he slept here, and he was as staunch a Churchman as ever sung a psalm tune: 'Prayer and provender are two good things; one is good for man, and t'other for beast:' though, I must say, we ant had much prayer here; worse luck."

I read the second chapter of Ephesians, making a few comments on it, and then we knelt before the throne of grace; and when this domestic service was over, I received the hearty hand-shake, and set out to retrace my steps to Fairmount, which I reached just in time to lead the devotions of the family; when, having committed ourselves to the protecting care of our heavenly Father, we retired to rest.

A VILLAGE FUNERAL.

Death is a solemn subject of meditation; and it is one which presents stronger claims on our attention than any other, because we all _must die_. If to die were a mere cessation of being; if, when the mind ceases to think, and the passions cease to glow; if, when the active and the passive virtues cease to display their moral beauty and vigour, and when the mantle of mortality falls from off us, we live only in the recollection of surviving friends, we should forbear passing a heavy censure on the general indifference which is manifested towards death and dying. But we live, when dying; we outlive death, and live for ever. Yes, life and immortality are brought to light by the volume of inspiration. There we read that "the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear His voice, and shall come forth, they that have done good unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation."

Death spares neither age nor rank, talent nor piety. The king of terrors sways the sceptre of absolute authority over all the living; none can elude his grasp, nor resist his power. What a scene is presented where he has achieved a conquest! The sparkling eye become dim, the instructive lips sealed in perpetual silence; the ear deaf alike to the voice of friendship and the song of mirth; and the tabernacle of bliss changed into the house of mourning. The preparations necessary for the interment keep the mind in a state of constant agitation; but when these are all adjusted, and the ministers of death enter to bear away the dear departed to the distant tomb, then the sobs, and tears, and groans of agonized survivors, proclaim the greatness of the irreparable desolation.

It was on a still summer evening, as we sat conversing together on the immortality of the soul, and on the blessedness of the righteous in the heavenly world, that we received intelligence of the approaching dissolution of Mrs. Allen. Mrs. Stevens expressed a desire to see her once more before her decease; and having accepted my offer to accompany her, we hastened to her lonely dwelling.

Vol. i. page 187.]

I have often observed, in my intercourse with society, that the benevolent affections are not cherished exclusively by any class of its members, but glow in the breasts of all; yet they are usually most delicate when refined by the hallowed fire of devotional feeling. On some occasions we see in humble life the tributary tear paid to departed worth, even where religion has not instilled her sweetest influences; yet, in general, a degree of insensibility is manifested which may well excite astonishment. But we felt, on entering this cottage, that we were indeed in the house of mourning. The husband, just returned from his hard day's labour, sat in the window-seat, his mug of ale, and bread and cheese, untouched on the table beside him; his hand spanned his forehead, concealing his eyes, and his little boy stood near him, pensive and sad. No voice spoke, no noise was heard, nor did our entrance disturb the mourner in his musings. We felt a momentary tremor, under an apprehension that death had already borne off his captive.

At length Mrs. Stevens said, "Well, Robert, is your wife still in the body, or in glory?"

He started up, and, as the tear fell on his sun-burnt face, replied, "She is still with us; but she will soon be gone. She has been discoursing about you, Ma'am, all day; and she will be very glad to see you again before she enters into the joy of her Lord."

We went up stairs, and it was evident, from the expression of Mrs. Allen's countenance, that our visit gave her great delight. She sat up in bed, supported by pillows; her face glowed with a hectic flush, her eyes shone with radiant brightness, her voice was clear, though not strong, and her mind discovered its usual cheerfulness and vigour.

"Here I am, hourly expecting a change. Disease has nearly consumed my body; but as my outward man perisheth, blessed be God my inward man is renewed day by day. I have passed through deep waters since I saw you, but they have not been permitted to overflow me; for when the enemy came in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord lifted up a standard against him. The contest is nearly over, the prize of my high calling is in view, and Jesus, my beloved Saviour, will soon, very soon, present me faultless before the presence of the Divine glory with exceeding joy."

"I am happy," said Mrs. Stevens, "to find you in such a calm ecstasy in anticipation of the coming crisis. You have borne a living testimony to the truth of religion, and now you can bear a dying testimony to its excellence."

"My living testimony has been but feeble; it has not been so decided as it ought to have been; I dare not think of it but with regret and self-loathing. I have been an unprofitable servant, but I look for redemption and for acceptance to Jesus the Mediator, whose blood cleanseth from all sin."

"But it must give you some degree of satisfaction to look back and see the fruits of your religion, though the fruit may not have been so rich nor so fine as you could wish."

"It gives me pleasure to know that I have been kept from falling, and that I shall soon be permitted to bow down in the presence of my Lord, and offer to Him some expression of my ardent gratitude for his great goodness to me; but I can derive no satisfaction from a review of my own conduct. I am a sinner saved by grace."

"You are now," I observed, "near the end of your course, and I suppose you would not willingly recommence your pilgrimage on earth."

"I would, Sir, cheerfully, if my Lord were to command me, but not otherwise. I long to be with him. To give up my dear husband and child occasioned a hard struggle, but I have been enabled to do it; and now I am going home, and my Father is waiting to receive me."

We committed her departing spirit to the Lord Jesus, and prayed for her husband and her child; then returned to Fairmount, where the news of her decease reached us within the space of an hour. After we left she had spoken but seldom, lying with her eyes closed, but, from the occasional motion of her lips, it was evident that she was much engaged in prayer. At length she said, "I feel a change which I cannot describe--is this death?--how easy it is! The king of terrors is transformed into an angel of deliverance. I shall soon see the King, the Lord of hosts in his beauty. I am entering the valley, but there is no darkness. I see the shadow of death, but feel no sting." After a short pause, during which her spirit seemed to be gathering up its strength for the final departure, she embraced her husband and her child for the last time; and, having solemnly commended them to God, she reclined her head on the pillow, and expired. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, and their decease is often precious in the sight of men. Yes, their composure when bidding farewell to their endeared relatives, and their joyful anticipations when in the act of passing into the unseen world, often produce such a powerful effect on the spectators of their exit, that many who contemn their religious principles, have retired from the solemn scene, saying, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like his."

Mrs. Allen's long affliction had so impoverished her husband, that he was not able to meet the expenses of her funeral; but such was the esteem in which her character was held, that a subscription for the purpose was immediately raised. I had often seen the city funeral, where the simplicity of nature is sacrificed to pompous show. The mourning coaches, the hearse decorated with plumes, and drawn by horses clothed in black, the hireling mourners, who make a mockery of grief--these may, by their sombrous appearance, throw a momentary gloom over the spirits, but rarely, if ever, produce a deep moral impression on the heart. I had now to witness, in a village funeral, a very different scene.

The ancient custom of burying the dead in the evening, which still lingers in some parts of the country, prevailed in this village. I left Fairmount, in company with Mr. Stevens and Mr. Lewellin, about five o'clock, the eighth day after her decease; and we were both astonished and pleased by seeing Farmer Pickford on the road before us. When we came up with him I saluted him.

"What, Farmer, are you going to the funeral?"

"Yes, Sir; my mistress wished it, as she mainly liked Mrs. Allen; and I felt a bit inclined to pay a little respect to her memory, because I once made sport of her religion; but I am now satisfied that it is of the right sort."

"It is so. It gives comfort on a bed of sickness and pain, and it fits a person to die well--to die with a full expectation of going to heaven; that is, of going home."

"It's a main good thing, and no mistake, when we are turned out of one home, to have another to go to."

"And that _other_ home _heaven_, which I hope, Farmer, will be your home at last and for ever."

"The Lord grant that it may be so. I often pray a bit about it; but my prayers are but poor prayers, worse luck. I can't pray like you."

"You can pray, like the publican, 'God be merciful to me a sinner.'"

"Ay, that's the prayer for me. I can pray that prayer, and feel it too."

Almost immediately after we had reached the cottage, a neat oak coffin, bearing the name and age of the deceased, was brought out, and placed on two stools in the centre walk of the garden. A band of singers from the church choir took the lead in the procession, then the bearers of the coffin, two and two, a lad walking on each side with a stool, to afford an occasional resting; then the chief mourners--the widowed husband and his little boy; some relatives, and a few poor friends, walked behind; and many of the villagers attended as spectators. As the bier entered the vale that divides the two parishes, the singers sang the following hymn:--

"Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims
For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savour of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.

"They die in Jesus, and are bless'd;
How still their slumbers are!
From suff'rings and from sins releas'd,
And freed from ev'ry snare.

"Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labours of their mortal life
End in a large reward."

The effect was solemn and impressive. As soon as the hymn was sung, the bier stood still, and the bearers rested; when the thrush and the yellow hammer, roused by the music, poured forth their melodious notes, as though anxious to prolong the song. The number of spectators increased as we advanced; all were serious, some wept; and when we turned into the lane which led up to the church, another hymn was sung, in accents more bold, but equally melodious with the former:--

"O for an overcoming faith,
To cheer my dying hours,
To triumph o'er the monster Death,
And all his frightful pow'rs!

"Joyful, with all the strength I have,
My quiv'ring lips shall sing,
'Where is thy boasted vict'ry, Grave?
And where the monster's sting?'

"If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure;
Death hath no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damning pow'r;
But Christ, my ransom, died.

"Now to the God of victory
Immortal thanks be paid,
Who makes us conqu'rors while we die,
Through Christ, our living Head."