Chapter XIV: Part II (5)

"I feel thankful that I am not now what I was yesterday--a proud and haughty sceptic; looking with scornful contempt on the Bible--on the Sabbath, and its public services--and on all who make a profession of love to Jesus Christ; but I dare not lay claim to the spiritual blessings which God graciously bestows on his redeemed and renovated people. I hope in his mercy, and pray for its manifestations to my guilty conscience, but I cannot do more; indeed, at times, I tremble while cherishing a hope in his mercy, lest I should add the sin of presumption, to the many other sins I have committed against him."

We now closed the interview by reading the Scriptures and prayer; and then returned, devoutly thankful to the God of salvation for what we had seen and heard.

In this state of agitating uncertainty, as to the final issue of her hopes and her fears, Mrs. Farrington continued, as Mr. Annesley afterwards informed me, for several months, suffering at times intense remorse, and often strongly tempted to abandon herself to despair. But by a patient continuance in the study of the Bible and listening to the ministry of the Word, in meditation and in prayer, she felt in process of time the sacred power of the promise of mercy and grace; tasted that the Lord is gracious, and eventually had hope and peace in believing; living through life in the fear of God, and giving a practical exemplification of the truth of the apostolic declaration, that "the grace of God that bringeth salvation, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works" (Titus ii. 11-14).

The conversion of this lady to the Christian faith, after having signalized herself for many years by her unceasing hostility to it, is a very strong evidence in confirmation of its Divine origin. What human power could have effected such a moral renovation as that which was produced while she was listening to this sermon by Mr. Annesley? She anticipated no such a change, nor did she desire it. In the sermon, which curiosity prompted her to hear, there was no concentration of argument to carry conviction to her judgment--no outbursts of eloquence--nor any decorations of style, to impress her feelings or attract her taste, but merely an interrogation, and that one of the most simple. From whence, then, came the all-powerful energy by which her haughty spirit was made to quail before the truth, which she had so long stigmatized as a cunningly devised fable? Whence, unless from Him who can easily subdue all things to himself; and whose spiritual triumphs are often graced by the spontaneous submission of his most malignant enemies; thus turning a prophetic announcement into an historic fact--"Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power."

A PARTY AT THE ELMS.

I must now request the courteous reader to return with me to Mr. Holmes and his family, at the Elms, where, as it will be recollected, we left Louisa, the eldest daughter, in a state of great mental perplexity, though somewhat soothed by the judicious letter of her worthy friend Mrs. Loader. It will also be remembered that Louisa had addressed a second letter to the latter, detailing further her career of Christian experience, and asking additional advice and assistance as to her future course.[22]

[22] Vol. ii. p. 177.

According to annual custom, a large party dined at the Elms, consisting principally of Mr. Holmes' old city friends, who came to enjoy a day in the country, and have a talk over the events of former times. They had all sprung from an obscure origin--had commenced to push their fortunes in London about the same time--and were now in the possession of considerable wealth. The party dined early. When the cloth was removed, the worthy host said he would give a toast, which he hoped the ladies would respond to as well as the gentlemen, though he admitted he ought to apologize for attempting to revive a practice which was now becoming obsolete--"Prosperity to the citizens of London; and may they ever express their gratitude to God, by supporting the institutions of benevolence." This toast having been duly honoured, the ladies withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their debates and discussions.

Miss Holmes proposed a walk--a proposal which the ladies and young people gladly fell in with. It was a fine tranquil evening, at the close of one of those beautiful days which frequently occur in this country in the month of October. The sun was sinking in a sea of crimson and gold, behind a finely wooded hill to the west, and throwing his rich amber light through the foliage of the pleasure ground in which the party was now sauntering. Everything tended to soothe and tranquillize the mind, while not a sound could be heard, but the rustling of the autumn leaves beneath the feet, or their fall as the branches vibrated in the almost imperceptible evening breeze.

Among the young people composing the party that day at the Elms, was Miss Martin, an intimate friend of Miss Holmes, and decidedly religious, but between whom and Louisa there had hitherto been but little sympathy on this subject. Without possessing the years and experience of Mrs. Loader, she nevertheless possessed an affectionate disposition, with a fund of sterling good sense, and was thus well qualified to impart consolation to the agitated and distressed mind of her friend. Louisa felt her heart gradually lightened as she conversed with Miss Martin; and the two ladies, walking on together a little in advance, got engaged in so interesting a discussion, that they soon lost sight of the younger members of the party, who had set off to amuse themselves in another direction. Louisa now recollected that she had promised a Bible the day before to an old woman in the neighbourhood, and invited Miss Martin to accompany her with it there--a proposal to which her friend gladly acceded. They accordingly proceeded down a narrow path which led from the shrubbery to a retired country road. They then walked along a short distance till they came to a neat cottage, at the door of which they gently tapped. It was opened by the old woman, Mrs. Kent, who invited them to walk in and sit down. They readily consented, and spent there a most interesting hour.

"I feel deeply obliged, ladies," said Mrs. Kent, "by your kindness in fetching me this Bible. It is indeed a treasure. A large printed Bible like this is just what I have long been wishing to procure, as my eyes are become so dim I cannot see to read this small print" (exhibiting a Bible which bore the marks of age).

"I am very glad, indeed, that you are pleased with it," replied Louisa, "and I trust you may long be spared in health to enjoy its stores."

"I have great reason to be thankful to God for the health he has given me. I am in his hand--he doeth all things well."

"You have really a pretty cottage here," said Miss Martin, "and it is very tastefully adorned. Have you lived here many years?"

"About twenty years. I was turned out of the cottage I lived in before, by Lord Harwood's steward, because I would not give up my religion; but the Lord opened the heart of a good man who lives in the village, and he built this little cottage for me, and I have lived here rent free ever since."

"How long may it be since you first knew the Lord?"

"More than forty years. I was, when young, a very thoughtless girl, and took great delight in vain pleasures; but the Lord was pleased, blessed be his name, to call me to a knowledge of the truth, and to love and serve him, when I was about your age."

"And you are not weary of his service?"

"Weary of his service!" said the venerable matron, her eyes sparkling as with youthful ardour--"no, Miss, though I often wonder that the Lord is not weary of me, as I am such an unprofitable servant."

"Then after forty years' experience, you can bear testimony to the truth of what Solomon says of religion: 'Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace?'"

W. L. THOMAS.

MISS HOLMES AND MISS MARTIN TAKING LEAVE OF MRS. KENT.

Vol. ii. p. 299.]

"That I can. I have been a widow five and twenty years. I have outlived all my children but one, and I have not seen him for more than sixteen years. I have had many troubles, but the Lord has brought me through them all. He has given me a spirit of resignation and contentment, and I can say, Let him do with me as seemeth good in his sight. He is too wise to err."

"Then you don't envy the rich and the noble?"

"No, Miss, I envy no one. If the rich have comforts that I have not, they have cares and temptations, from which I am protected. May the Lord incline you, my young friends, to seek him in your youth, and then you will find a treasure which is of more value than thousands of gold and silver."

"I hope he has inclined us to seek him," said Miss Holmes; "and as you have known him so many years, I shall be happy to come and visit you, that you may teach me the way of the Lord more perfectly."

"I shall be glad to see you at any time, if you will condescend to come and see me; but it is not in my power to teach you. The prophet says, 'All thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children.'"

"I will soon come back again and have a long chat. Good night."

"Good night, ladies. May the Lord bless you."

"She is a dear old woman," said Miss Martin. "I have quite fallen in love with her."

"Yes, my dear Mary, she is one of the Lord's hidden jewels, set apart for himself. I am very glad to have made her acquaintance, but I confess that I neglected to do this till the other day, though I had often seen her knitting on the seat in front of her cottage as I passed by."

The two friends now re-entered the avenue, and, taking a by-path, ascended a little rising ground, which commanded a fine view of the surrounding country. "How delightful it is, Louisa," said Miss Martin, "to get a day's excursion away from the bustle and smoke of London. What a beautiful landscape you have here--that venerable church tower rising in the distance among the trees, and that fine old mansion at the foot of the hill, with the deer feeding in the park in front; and see what a pretty object Mrs. Kent's cottage makes, when seen through this vista in the trees."

"It is certainly a beautiful prospect, Mary. I often come here to contemplate it. I made a sketch the other day of Mrs. Kent's cottage, which I shall show you when we get into the house. It is both a picturesque object when viewed from a distance, and loses none of its attractions on a near approach. She has displayed great taste in the way she has disposed the evergreens and flowers around it. But its chief glory is within."

"Very true, my dear Louisa. It is a sacred spot--often visited by unseen messengers, when they come to earth on errands of mercy. Strangers would pass by, and admire only the neatness of its external appearance, but we have seen its concealed beauties."

"I was quite delighted," said Miss Holmes, "with the first visit I paid her. She certainly possesses a very cultivated mind for a person in her station. She has been a great reader in her time, but now her favourite study is divinity, and the Bible is her text-book. She gave me some particulars of her history. Her life has been a chequered one. I was quite taken with the artless simplicity of her conversation, and with the ease, I may almost say elegance, of her manners. I shall certainly often stroll to her cottage for a chat; and you must come here again soon, and pay her another visit along with me."

"I am glad, my dear, that you are partial to her," replied Miss Martin. I shall be delighted to accompany you again to Mrs. Kent's. I hope you will often visit her. You will derive, I have no doubt, much spiritual benefit from her conversation. There is nothing which so polishes and refines the character as the influence of religion. It improves the taste, without making it fastidious; enlarges the intellect, without engendering vanity; softens and sweetens the temper; and inspires a consciousness of individual worth and importance, while at the same time it pays a respectful regard to the laws and customs which prevail in society. Hence a Christian appears as dignified in a cottage as in a mansion; and living comparatively disengaged from the temptations of the world, he is more at liberty to commune with the Redeemer, by which he imperceptibly receives a more perfect impression of his image."

"But do you think, Mary, that every Christian exemplifies the correctness of your remarks?"

"No, my dear. Some do not feel the influence of religion till late in life, when their taste has been vitiated, their habits formed, and their tempers set; and though it will correct some of the evils which they may have contracted, yet it rarely happens that their character receives such an amount of refinement as it would have done, had they felt its transforming power at an earlier period."

Just at this moment they were startled by a deep groan, that came from the wood near which they were standing, and on running to afford some assistance to the supposed sufferer, Miss Holmes beheld her facetious sister Emma, with a group of young friends, attempting to conceal themselves, but who burst out into loud laughter when they were discovered.

"What's the matter, girls?"

"Nothing, ladies; O nothing!" said Lucy Cooper, with a suppressed smile.

"We were afraid, from the groan we heard, that some one had been hurt, or was suddenly taken ill."

"It was only Emma, feigning illness, to disturb you in your grave musings."

"O! Emma, I wonder how you could be so foolish! I am glad, however, that there is nothing the matter; and I do not regret having been disturbed, as it appears to have contributed to your mirth."

"We have just been seeing Mrs. Kent," said Emma, "and she told us that you, and I suppose Miss Martin, had been there."

"O what a lovely place!" exclaimed several voices.

"How I should like to live in that beautiful cottage!" said a little girl; "I wish grandpapa would buy such a one for me."

"The old lady," said another, "was looking over the Bible you gave her when we tapped at the door, and she rose and received us with as much grace and ease as though she had been a duchess. She appears to be a very contented, nice old woman, and seems to be very religious in her way. Is she not, Emma?"

"Yes, she is."

"Aye, she is at a good age to become religious, and she has nothing else to engage her attention. I should like to have another talk with her."

"We shall be happy to see you, Lucy, at any time," said Miss Holmes; "and I think both you and Emma would be all the better for a few lessons of staidness and sobriety from Mrs. Kent."

"O yes, I know I should; but as my propensity is to be religious, I must check it, or I shall get quite unhappy. It won't do for me to associate much with such devout people. I shall be sure to catch the infection, from my natural habit of imitation."

Miss Holmes would have made some reply, but the appearance of her brothers, and some of the gentlemen from the house, put a stop to further conversation.

"Come, ladies," one of them exclaimed, "where have you been rambling to all this time? We thought we had lost you. You have forgotten how late it is, and we must be off for town in an hour or two."

The youthful party, thus summoned, hastened to the house, where, after partaking of tea, the guests prepared to depart, just as the moon began to rise. The family then being left alone, drew their seats round the fire for a few minutes before they retired to rest, and began to talk over the incidents of the day.

"This has been a very happy day," said Mr. Holmes; "for though our friends are not all religious people, yet they are very worthy, excellent persons."

"It must be a high gratification to you, father," said his eldest son, "to see the companions of your youth sitting around your table, with your children, and, by mutual intercourse, recalling the early scenes and incidents of your career."

"Indeed it is, William; and I hope God has reserved the same enjoyment for you all; and that, when I am resting in the grave with my fathers, you will think and talk of these gone-by times."

* * * * *

A few days after this, Miss Holmes received the following letter from her esteemed friend, Mrs. Loader, which she had been anxiously expecting for some time:--

"_29th Oct., 18--._

"MY DEAR LOUISA,--I received your letter of ----, and was
glad to find that you were so far restored as to be able to
occupy yourself in the service of Christian benevolence. The
duties which now devolve upon you are no less novel than they
are important; and while you may provoke others to scorn by
the activity of your zeal, you may sometimes likewise involve
yourself in perplexity and mortification. You already begin
to feel the loss of the spiritual enjoyments which you so
largely participated in when "first you knew the Lord," and you
suppose that this is a conclusive evidence of the declining
influence of religious principle over your mind; but you ought
not to draw such a conclusion. If, dear Louisa, you expect
that the realities of the unseen world will always retain that
ascendency over your affections which they acquired when you
first felt their power, you proceed in your calculations on
mistaken data. When you were first impressed by the truth, you
were a prisoner--confined in the solitary chamber; you held but
little intercourse with the world around you, and your feelings
were rendered more susceptible of strong excitement, from the
influence which a protracted affliction had imperceptibly
acquired over them; but now you are out and abroad--your spirits
are braced up by the pressure of calls and engagements, which
demand your attention; and you are compelled to engage in the
duties and pursuits of social life. Can such a change in your
habits take place without having some powerful effect on the
state of your affections? Impossible! An active life is less
favourable to devotional feeling than a contemplative one; and
though I would not throw out a remark which should operate as
a discouragement to exertion in the cause of Him who became
obedient unto death for us, yet I assure you, that in proportion
as the number of your employments increase, you will be deprived
of the pleasures of retired devotion, even though the truths of
religion retain their ascendency over your judgment, and its
holy principles reign in your heart.

"I have thought it right to make these observations, to guard
you against the common error into which young Christians often
fall, in supposing that their faith is not genuine, because it
does not uniformly act with the same degree of activity and
power.

"That you should, at times, admit the possibility of the entire
passing away of your religious convictions and impressions, and
should look forward with shuddering dread to the consequences
and final issue of such a calamitous event, does not surprise
me, neither does it give me any alarm. This is usually one of
the earliest mental trials a young disciple has to endure. You
say that, notwithstanding the ceaseless terror which agitates
your heart, you are moving forward, though slowly, between
hope and fear: and if so, you are safe in the right way to the
city of habitation, as fear will keep you from presumption,
and hope from despair. Yes, my dear Louisa, the harmonious
blending of these affections of the soul, will ever prove,
in their restraining and sustaining influence, a shield of
defence against the subtle temptations of the great adversary,
and a well-spring of consolation in the season of gloom and
depression. We read, 'The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear
him, in those that hope in his mercy' (Psal. cxlvii. 11). But
you are unconsciously guilty of a capital error--you think, and
feel, and write, as if there were no being in existence who is
able to keep you from falling, and who, at the same time, has
no personal interest in doing it. Has a father no personal
interest in the preservation of the life and happiness of his
child? Hear what your heavenly Father says, when speaking to you
from the celestial glory--'Can a woman forget her sucking child,
that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea,
they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have
graven thee upon the palms of my hands' (Isa. xlix. 15, 16). Can
you suppose that Jesus Christ, after dying to redeem you, will
abandon you and leave you to perish, when you are praying--'Lord
save me!' He loves his own; and all who come to him to be saved
are his own, and none else will come; and when they come, he
will in no wise neglect them or cast them out. Meditate often
on the following words, which he spoke when on earth to his
disciples, and which he has had recorded in the sacred volume,
for the consolation of his disciples of all future times--'I
pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but
that thou shouldest keep them from the evil' (John xvii. 15).
You may have great and sore trials in your Christian course--you
may be exposed to severe temptations and great moral dangers,
but you are safe; HE will not overlook you, or leave you, who
gave his life as a ransom for your redemption. Your final
salvation depends on no doubtful contingency. It is fixed and
certain. And HE who gave his life for you, is now preparing a
place for you in heaven--is doing something in your behalf which
implies the exercise of power--getting in readiness, as I heard
an eloquent preacher remark the other Sabbath, a quiet chamber
for the accommodation of his beloved disciple in the house of
his Father. And after preparing this mansion, he will not suffer
its intended occupant to perish by the way. No; 'My sheep hear
my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: and I give unto
them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall
any man pluck them out of my hand.' (John x. 27, 28).

"I am happy that you are intimate with the Corries, who used to
be our next-door neighbours when we lived in London. They are
a very excellent family, decidedly pious, and very benevolent.
They are Christians of the old school--still retain their
attachment to the singular phraseology which at one time was
much in vogue amongst our evangelical preachers--and have
imbibed a few opinions which, I think, need revision.

"You appear to have had your peace disturbed, and your cheering
prospects darkened, by your intercourse with them; but be not
alarmed, as the more your faith is tried, the stronger it will
grow; and instead of sustaining any injury from the conflicting
elements of doubt and suspicion, which threaten to tear it up by
the roots, it will strike them still deeper and deeper in that
holy soil, in which it is ordained to flourish.

"Your friends are not singular in their views of the nature of
faith, but I do not think that they are correct; and as you have
requested me to give you my opinion, I will cheerfully do so.
They confound a plenary conviction of the truth of the Christian
scheme of salvation, with an assurance of a personal interest
in its invaluable blessings. This is the error into which they
have fallen, and on the eve of which you are now standing; but
it does not require much force of reasoning to show its fallacy.
Faith is an assent of the mind to some truth, or some system
of truth, which is established by satisfactory evidence. As
this assent becomes weaker or stronger, in proportion to the
clearness and force of the evidence by which it is produced, a
full assurance of faith is that high degree of it which admits
of no suspicion. Hence, you are convinced that Jesus Christ came
into this world--that he sojourned in the land of Judea--that
he performed the miracles which are ascribed to him--that he
died on the cross to expiate the guilt of sin--rose from the
dead--and is now seated on the right hand of the majesty on
high, receiving there the ascriptions of praise from the lips of
the redeemed.

"You want no miracle wrought in your presence to induce you to
believe this, because you believe it on the testimony of the
inspired writers; nor is it necessary that a voice should speak
to you from the celestial glory to confirm it. But though you
are fully convinced of these facts, yet you are not so fully
convinced that he died _for you_--or that he is gone to heaven
to prepare a mansion for you, in the house of his Father.
You believe that there is 'redemption through his blood, the
forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace;' but
you sometimes doubt whether _you_ are redeemed and forgiven. You
believe that 'he is able to save them to the uttermost that come
unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for
them;' but you are not fully persuaded that he is interceding
for you. You feel your need of such a Saviour; and you know that
'all that the Father giveth him shall come to him;' yet you
doubt whether the Father ever gave you to Christ, or whether
you have ever come unto him in a scriptural manner. You cannot
believe the truth of the gospel more firmly than you do believe
it--you cannot place a more entire dependence on Christ for
salvation than you do place--you cannot feel more disposed to
give him all the honour of your salvation than you do feel; and
yet, at times, you doubt your acceptance--your safety--and your
final blessedness. Does not this clearly prove that faith in
Christ, and an assurance of an interest in him, are essentially
distinct?

"Nor can we doubt the correctness of this assertion, if we
attend to the order of the Spirit's operations on our mind.
He inclines us to believe the truth which he exhibits; and he
enables us to do it. 'For he shall not speak of himself; but
whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will shew
you things to come. He shall glorify me: for he shall receive
of mine, and shall shew it unto you; all things that the Father
hath are mine: therefore said I, that he shall take of mine,
and shall shew it unto you.' This is his _first_ act; but it is
a _later_ act, to bear testimony with our spirit that we are
born of God; and as some space of time must necessarily elapse
after he has performed the first act, before he performs the
second, it is evident that faith may exist in its purity, and
in its power, even when there is no assurance of it. Hence it
follows, that a person who relies on the atonement of Christ for
salvation is as safe, though he live and die without any firm
persuasion of his future blessedness, as one who is enabled to
rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Indeed, my dear Louisa, I
should tremble to make the final happiness of my soul depend,
in the slightest degree, on my personal assurance of its safety.
This would be nothing less than intermingling a personal
attainment with the efficacy of the Saviour's death; and placing
my hope of a blissful immortality on the precarious basis of a
fluctuating feeling, rather than on that immoveable foundation
which God has laid in Zion. If you peruse the biographies of
some of the most eminent Christians, you will perceive that
during their pilgrimage on earth, they frequently complained
of that alternation of feeling which you now experience; and
some have been left for days, and for months, to walk in mental
darkness without the light of the Divine countenance. Your
favourite poet, Cowper, was a man eminently embued with the
spirit of Christ; and yet in what a dark and gloomy frame of
mind did he leave this world. His biographer says, that within
a few days of his decease, after a near relative had been
attempting to cheer him with the prospect of exchanging a world
of infirmity and sorrow, for a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory, he threw from him the words of peace, and
exclaimed, 'Oh, spare me! spare me! You know, you _know_ it to
be false.' Having given utterance to this despairing language,
he sunk into a state of apparent insensibility, in which state
he continued for twelve hours, and then expired without moving a
limb, or even uttering a moan. Thus terminated the mortal career
of one of the greatest poets that ever consecrated the powers
of his mind to the cause of Christ: entering death's dark vale
without a ray of light to cheer him in his lonely passage.

"But shall we say that he died without faith, because he
died without an assurance that he possessed it? Would not
such an opinion necessarily tend to destroy our confidence
in the sufficiency of the atonement of Christ, by making our
final happiness depend on the peculiar frame of our mind in
that solemn hour, when some latent physical cause may bring
over the spirit a gloom which no human effort can dispel? If
we _trust_ in Christ, we shall be saved; and though we may
sometimes doubt the genuine nature of our act of faith, yet
that circumstance will not endanger either our present safety
or our future blessedness. Indeed, I have known some most
exemplary Christians, who have trembled to speak with confidence
of attaining the recompense of reward. Removed at an equal
distance from the dread of perishing and an _assurance_ of being
saved, they have been enabled to cherish and display those
dispositions and principles which have satisfied their judgment
of their safety, without affording an entire relief to all their
anxieties.

"But though, my dear Louisa, an assurance of your interest in
Christ is not essential to your salvation, yet it is essential
to your happiness. You cannot doubt it, without feeling a deep
pang; and if you should habitually doubt it, you will live in a
state of perpetual dejection. I urge you, then, to attain it in
the spring-time of your experience; or you may accustom yourself
to feel more inclined to cherish, than to expel despondency.
'Wherefore,' says the apostle, 'give all diligence to make
your calling and election sure.' And that you may attain this
assurance of hope, which will be as an anchor of the soul
during the perils and conflicts of time, look up, by faith and
prayer, to the invisible Source of all consolation and joy; ever
remembering that 'the Spirit itself beareth witness with our
spirit, that we are the children of God: and if children, then
heirs; heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ' (Rom. viii. 16,
17). This witnessing testimony is as necessary to superinduce
this assurance, as the precious blood of Christ is necessary to
remove the guilt of sin. Never forget this.

"And if you should not immediately attain a full assurance
of your interest in Christ, do not suffer your mind to be
overwhelmed with anxiety; as this is an attainment which belongs
to the more advanced Christian, rather than to the young
disciple. It will not come at once by an overpowering force,
driving away every gloomy fear, and throwing open before you
a clear prospect of a blissful immortality, but gradually, at
intermitting seasons, weakening the strength of your doubts, and
strengthening the weakness of your faith; till at length the God
of hope will fill you with all joy and peace in believing. I was
much struck with a paragraph in a devotional treatise which I
recently perused, and which I here quote--'Great consolation
is often received at different seasons, even during the period
when our general feelings are intermingled with dark and painful
forebodings. Hence, the weakest believer sometimes returns from
the closet, and from the sanctuary, strong in faith, though he
may again relapse into his more stated frame of despondency.
The clouds occasionally separate, to enable him to view the Sun
of Righteousness, and feel the healing virtue of his presence,
though they may again unite to obscure his vision, and leave him
to grope on his 'darkling way.' These intermitting seasons of
darkness and light, of high enjoyment and deep dejection, have
a salutary effect, and serve to prepare him for that state of
settled assurance, which, in fact, they tend in some measure to
produce.'

"As I have so far exceeded the ordinary bounds of a letter, I
shall not enter on the other very important questions to which
you refer in your last; but will do it at some future period.
It gives us great pleasure to hear that you have such an
excellent minister near you, and though he preaches in a chapel
which does not belong to our Establishment, yet, if he preach
Christ and him crucified, I have no doubt you will enjoy his
labours. The feet of the messenger that publisheth peace, are
no less beautiful on the mountains, than in the city; and his
proclamation is as interesting to the self-condemned sinner,
when delivered in the unconsecrated chapel, as in the majestic
cathedral; and though we may retain our partialities to forms
and places, yet, if we ever suffer our prejudices to deprive us
of our spiritual privileges, we shall be guilty of a suicidal
act against both our peace and steadfastness in the faith.

"The account which you have given me of your sisters has
awakened an opposite class of feelings in my breast. Emma, I
fear, is under some fatal influence which you have not yet
detected, and will, unless subdued by the loving-kindness of God
our Saviour, devote herself to the pleasures of the world. Her
beauty has made her vain, and the versatility of her talents
is a snare to her. You must watch over her with great care,
and pray that He who called _you_ out of darkness into his
marvellous light, would be pleased to renew her in the spirit of
her mind. Jane is a lovely girl. She has an elegant mind, and if
the good work is begun in her heart, she will be an interesting
companion to you. Let me hear from you as soon as you can spare
a few moments from your numerous engagements, and believe me,
yours affectionately,

E. LOADER."

FAMILY SKETCHES.

In a large family we often find that some of the children discover a peculiar aversion to the religious habits which prevail amongst them. Though the primary cause of this hostility may be traced up to the depravity of our nature, yet we ought not to overlook the secondary causes which may have contributed to its growth and manifestation. For though there is an innate propensity to evil in the heart, and though that propensity is much stronger in some than in others, yet it rarely breaks through the barriers which a judicious course of instruction throws up, unless it is brought into contact with strong temptations, which _might_ have been guarded against. Hence most pious parents, when mourning over the impiety of their children, have to reproach themselves for some omissions or compliances which have directly or indirectly tended to produce the evil, and which very naturally lead to a fatal indifference or open hostility to the claims of religion, which no subsequent remonstrances are able to correct or control.

This was the case in the family of the Holmes. Miss Emma was a beautiful girl. Her manners were exceedingly graceful. She was witty and satirical in her disposition, and from her childhood gave unequivocal proofs that she required more than ordinary attention in the cultivation of her mind and the formation of her character. From the superior vivacity of her spirits, the playfulness of her fancy, and her intellectual acuteness, she gained a powerful ascendency over the affections of her parents, who, trusting too much to the maturity of her judgment for the correction of budding ills, paid less regard to the formation of her habits than they had done with their other children. The partiality for dress, which she discovered when a child, increased as she grew up, till at length she lavished nearly the whole of her attention on her external appearance. After having spent a few years in the establishment where her elder sisters had finished their education, she was sent, at the age of sixteen, to a fashionable boarding-school, in which too much attention was paid to mere personal graces and accomplishments. It was here that she formed an intimacy with the daughter of Colonel Orme, who resided near the Elms, and which proved a source of poignant sorrow to all the members of her family. After leaving school, she was permitted by her unsuspecting parents to exchange visits with her young friend, who was, by the influence of her sentiments and example, gradually destroying that reverence for the authority of religion, and that attachment to its practices, which they were so anxious to cherish and to strengthen. Miss Holmes saw with deep regret the fatal bias which her sister's mind was receiving; and though she availed herself of every opportunity which circumstances offered to check and subdue it, yet she constantly met with determined resistance.

"Indeed," said Emma, after her sister had been urging her to return some novels which her friend had sent for her perusal, "I shall not do it till I have read them. They are amusing and interesting; and if they contain any objectionable sentiments, I can easily reject them."

"Yes, they may amuse and may interest, but they will not improve your mind. They will give you false views of nature and the world--imperceptibly reconcile you to sentiments and opinions at which you would now shudder--induce such a love for the marvellous and romantic that you will be dissatisfied with the dull uniformity of life, and destroy all the religious impressions which our dear parents have been so anxious to produce."

"When I feel the injury to which you allude I will give them up, but till then you must permit me to follow my own inclination without control. I am old enough to judge for myself."

Whether the varieties which are apparent in the human character are to be traced up to the different methods employed in its formation, or to some inherent peculiarity in the constitution of the mind, is a much vexed question amongst philosophers. Education and example no doubt exercise a most material influence, but they do not operate in a uniform manner, as we have known the most opposite characters rise out of the same family. To account for this, unless on the principle that there is some inherent propensity in our nature, which gives to each person an individuality of character, would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, as we should naturally expect a uniformity of result where the same means are taken to secure it, unless there be some latent cause by which this is prevented. Hence some of the most improved systems of education make provision for a difference in the style of instruction, and in the mode of treatment, to accord with the natural temper and inclination of the pupil; supposing, that by such a judicious arrangement, his moral and intellectual improvement may be more effectually advanced.

But how often does even this method fail of accomplishing its intended effect; as we see the children of a large family discovering a diversity in their taste--their disposition--and their habits--no less striking than they would have done, if no wisdom or discretion had been employed in their cultivation. Meekness and irritability--an affable demeanour, and a proud hauteur--a placidness and tenderness of disposition, and a violence and resentment of spirit--a love of display, and a native modesty which withdraws from public notice--a passion for some individual pursuit, and a restlessness which no object can fix--are the moral lights and shadows which often fall on the members of the same family, giving that variety of hue and tinge which we discover in the aspect of the natural world.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, in their plan of domestic government, endeavoured to do three things--to attach their children to their own home; to encourage them to repose unlimited confidence in their parents; and to train them to cultivate pure and ardent love for each other. By the adoption of these maxims, they displayed their good sense and parental regard; as it is uniformly found, that when a child outgrows his love for his father's house, he has lost the sheet-anchor of his safety; that if he have not free and unrestricted access to his parents, he will become suspicious of, and estranged from them; and that if he feel no peculiar pleasure in the society and interest in the welfare of the other branches of the family, he will cherish a jealous and envious disposition, not more destructive of their happiness than of his own.

When speaking of the excellencies which so finely budded on the opening character of some of their children, they often expressed their regret at the unpromising appearances of others; yet indulged the hope that they would outgrow their "flaws unseemly," and ultimately display, not only the strength of reason, but the beauty of virtue. As they advanced from childhood to youth, and from youth to riper years, they gradually developed the peculiarities of their tempers and dispositions, which were so dissimilar, that no uniform mode of discipline could be adopted with any chance of proving beneficial. Mr. Holmes was too much occupied in his commercial affairs, to pay any great attention to his children while they were young, and, therefore, the chief responsibility of their education devolved on their mother, who, feeling anxious to discharge the trust reposed in her, availed herself of all the information which she could acquire. The following paragraph, which she met with in a favourite author, gave her an insight into the art of a judicious management. It inspired her with a good hope respecting those who appeared the most unpromising, because the most untractable:--"A discriminating teacher will appreciate the individual character of each pupil, in order to appropriate her management. We must strengthen the feeble, while we repel the bold. We cannot educate by a _receipt_: for after studying the best rules, and after digesting them into the best system, much must depend on contingent circumstances; for that which is good may be inapplicable. The cultivator of the human mind must, like the gardener, study diversities of soil, or he may plant diligently, and water faithfully, with little fruit. The skilful labourer knows that, even when the surface is not particularly promising, there is often a rough, strong ground, which will amply repay the trouble of breaking it up; yet we are often most taken with a soft surface, though it conceal a shallow depth, because it promises present reward and little trouble. But strong and pertinacious tempers, of which, perhaps, obstinacy is the leading vice, under skilful management, often turn out steady and sterling characters; while, from softer clay, a firm and vigorous virtue is but seldom produced. Pertinacity is often principle, which wants nothing but to be led to its true object; while the uniformly yielding, and universally accommodating spirit, is not seldom the result of a feeble tone of morals, of a temper eager for praise, and acting for reward."

It is often remarked, that children are men and women in miniature; and as they grow up to their full stature, we often see them exhibiting, in broader and more palpable development, the excellencies and defects of their juvenile character; but when they are subjected to the operation of extraordinary causes, they sometimes undergo an entire transformation, and become new creatures. The most hopeless turn out the most valuable--those who have inflicted the most pungent sorrow ultimately become the source of the purest delight--the prematurely promising have faded in the spring-time vigour of their virtue--and those who have been endowed with the greatest talents have brought down the gray hairs of their parents with sorrow to the grave.

The eldest sons of this family, William and Edward, who succeeded to the business when the father retired, had turned out everything their parents could wish, but presented no prominent traits of character, beyond that of well-conducted, pious young men. The youngest son, John, who was devoted to the medical profession, possessed more adroitness and vivacity than his brothers; but either from the laxity of parental control, or the peculiar connections which his pursuits in life led him to form, he disappointed the high expectations which he had raised, and eventually became the source of domestic grief. He was greatly attached to his sister Emma, whom he most nearly resembled, not only in person, but in disposition; and having imbibed sceptical notions on religious subjects, soon after he commenced his professional studies, he infused them into her mind, and thus did her great injury. There was an unobtrusive modesty about Jane, which naturally induced her to retire from public notice, and rendered her fully appreciated only by her more intimate friends; while Emma's good qualities were unfortunately, to a great extent, obscured by her inordinate vanity and desire of admiration. The love of dress, as already mentioned, early took possession of her mind, and her parents injudiciously nourished this passion, by allowing her to do as she pleased in this respect, not conceiving that by such a compliance she would sustain any moral injury. But they lived to see and deplore their error.

"It is a just remark," says an excellent writer, "that objects in their own nature innocent, and entitled to notice, may become the sources of disadvantage and of guilt; when, being raised from the rank of trifles to ideal importance, they occupy a share of attention which they do not deserve; and then they are pursued with an immoderate ardour, which at once indisposes the mind to occupations of higher concern, and clouds it with malignant emotions." Perhaps there is no subject which will more strikingly illustrate the correctness of this remark, than that passion for fashionable attire by which some are enslaved. "If, in addition to that reasonable degree of regard to propriety of dress, which insures the strictest neatness, and a modest conformity, in unobjectionable points, to the authority of custom, a young woman permits her thoughts to be frequently engaged by the subject of exterior ornaments, occupations of moment will be proportionably neglected. From the complacency natural to all human beings, when employed in contemplating objects by means of which the flattering hope of shining is presented to them, she will be in the most imminent danger of contracting a distaste to serious reflection, and of being at length absorbed in the delusions of vanity and self-love. It is, undoubtedly, a matter of indifference, whether a lady's ribands be green or blue; whether her head be decorated with flowers or with feathers; whether her gown be composed of muslin or of silk. But it is no matter of indifference, whether the time which she devotes to the determination of any of these points is to be reckoned by hours or by minutes; or whether, on discovering the elevation of her bonnet to be an inch higher or lower, and its tint a shade lighter or darker, than the model which prevails among her acquaintance, she is overwhelmed with consternation and disappointment, or bears the calamity with the apathy of a stoic."

The love of dress, like every other improper affection, has a material influence over the formation of the character; and though it operates by a silent process, yet it is invariably found to have a pernicious tendency. It induces habits of expenditure, which are often beyond the resources of the individual; saps the foundation of morals, and involves in inextricable difficulties. Bills are left unpaid, and every excuse and apology which ingenuity and artifice can devise, is employed to silence the remonstrances of the creditor--whom the debtor avoids with an instinctive dread, no less sensitive than the child does the place supposed to be haunted by an evil spirit.

But, if the resources are sufficient to satisfy the demands of justice, has benevolence no claim on the female sex? "The fact is, that an unguarded fondness for ornament has been known, in a multitude of examples, to overpower the natural tenderness of the female mind, and to prevent the growth and establishment of dispositions pronounced in the gospel to be indispensably requisite to the Christian character. If the purse be generally kept low by the demands of milliners, of mantua-makers, dealers in trinkets, and of others who bear their part in adorning the person, little can be allotted to the applications of charity. But charity requires, in common with other virtues, the fostering influence of habit. If the custom of devoting an adequate portion of the income to the relief of distress be long intermitted, the desire of giving relief will gradually be impaired. The heart forgets, by disuse, the emotions in which it once delighted. The ear turns from solicitations now become unwelcome. In proportion as the wants and the griefs of others are disregarded, the spirit of selfishness strikes deeper and stronger roots in the breast. Let the generous exertions of kindness be tempered with discretion: but let a disposition to those exertions be encouraged on principles of duty; and confirmed, in proportion to the ability of the individual, by frequency of practice. Before the world has repressed, by its interested lessons, the warmth of youthful benevolence, let experience establish a conviction that the greatest of all pleasures is to do good. She who has accustomed herself to this delight, will not easily be induced to forego it. She will feel, that whatever she is able, without penuriousness or improper singularity, to withdraw from the expense of personal ornament, is not only reserved for much higher purposes, but for purposes productive of exquisite and permanent gratification.

"Another, and a very important benefit which results from fixed habits of moderation as to dress, and all points of a similar nature, will be clearly discerned by adverting to the irreparable evils into which young women are sometimes plunged by the contrary practice. The lavish indulgence in which they have learned to seek for happiness, becoming, in their estimation, essential to their comfort, is able to bias their conduct in every important step. Hence, in forming matrimonial connections, it exercises perhaps a secret, but a very powerful influence. The prospect of wealth and magnificence, of the continuance and of the increase of pleasures supposed to flow from the pomp of dress and equipage, from sumptuous mansions, showy furniture, and numerous attendants, dazzles the judgment, imposes on the affections, conceals many defects in moral character, and compensates for others. It frequently proves the decisive circumstance which leads the deluded victim to the altar, there to consign herself to splendid misery for life.