leaves not a man as it finds him. He either believes this Gospel, and receives it in his heart; or he believes not this Gospel, and hardens his heart against it: and then, no longer moved by the Holy Spirit, he is the more hardened in sin, and sinks into a state of appalling stupefaction. It was thus with the Jews. In the first years of his ministry, when he cleansed the temple, the Saviour said, "Ye have made my Father's house an house of merchandise." But, three years afterwards, as we have read this day, he said, "Ye have made it a den of thieves." And, verily, the temple had become a den of thieves; for it was filled with those who "sought how they might kill him." So deeply had Jerusalem sunk in three years! Three years ago, merchants;” now, "thieves!" And this in the time of their glorious visitation, while they had the Son of God, the image of the Father, in the midst of them! O, let this be to us an awful warning! Jerusalem is rejected, because it would not know, because it would not receive, the great, the matchless, love of God in Christ. Jerusalem is rejected because of its unbelief. This was the damning sin of the children of Israel. God behoved to give them up to the power of sin. His Spirit could strive with them no longer; for they had shut the doors of their hearts against him, and so hastened by quick steps their fearful destruction. They had become one with sin. They had gone over to the side of Satan, the prince of darkness. Therefore the judgment of Satan behoved to be passed upon them. They were cast off from the presence of God.

Dear hearers! every one that persists in despising the truth and love of God, must feel at last that the mercy of the sinner's Friend will be to it of no avail. If you harden your hearts in sin, you will find, when the time of your visitation has passed away, that, being joined so thoroughly unto sin, even Jesus the merciful must condemn you along with your sins, because he is sin's greatest enemy. He will do it, though with tears in his eyes. Ah! this is dreadful: but it will be all made plain at the last great day. Amen.

DANIEL M'MICHAEL.

(From "The Traditions of the Covenanters.") DANIEL M'MICHAEL, was born at Dalzien, in the valley of the Sear, in the parish of Penpont. We have no notice, however, respecting the time and manner in which his mind was first savingly impressed with the truth. Whether it was in early youth or in riper

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years that he became the subject of a gracious change, tradition has not informed us. The fact, however, is certain, that he was a true and that he was honoured to seal his testimony believer, a genuine follower of the Saviour, with his blood. From the circumstance of his name being inserted in the fugitive roll, it would appear that his principles as a Nonconformist were well known, and that he was especially marked by his enemies. In the MMichael in Lurgfoot." The place is now roll referred to, he is designated "Daniel' called Blairfoot, and belongs to the farm of Burn, in the parish of Morton, in Nithsdale. In this locality there was a cave by the margin of a mountain stream, to which, in those days, the Covenanters often resorted. It was a hallowed retreat to many, not only as a place of refuge from their foes, but as a sanctuary for heavenly fellowship.

Daniel M'Michael's house at Blairfoot was

something like the house of the good John Brown of Priesthill; it was a little church, a meeting place to all the religious people in the district, who assembled there for the purpose of hallowed fellowship and prayer. The wanderers who had located themselves in the wilds and dens of the neighbouring mountains, fre quently stole to Daniel's cottage, to spend the hours of a cold and stormy winter's evening in spiritual converse; and many a weary outcast found it a Bethel for God's presence and communion with his saints.

The seclusion of Daniel's residence must, in north it is fronted with dismal and frowning those times, have been very dreary. On the hills, the sterile aspect of which impresses the mind with the idea of a loneliness unwonted even in those desert parts. The ancient castle of Morton, mouldering into decay, raises its grim turrets in scowling aspect over the weary scene-a fortlet this once possessed by interest, as old legends say, were perpetrated the doughty Douglases, where deeds of terrific by the haughty lords of the domain, who ruled with almost absolute power in those rough times of feudal barbarism.

The house in which Daniel lived at Blair

foot is now razed from its foundation. It was demolished only the other year, when the ploughshare was made to pass over its site, and a solitary tree is left to mark the spot where this honest worthy lived and prayed in the dark times of Zion's troubles.

In the dreary month of January 1685, Daniel was confined to his bed of a fever, caught it is not said how, but in all probability brought on by his frequent exposure to cold and wet, when he was obliged to withdraw himself from the face of his foes to the bleak and inclement deserts. The worthy men who lay in concealment in the vicinity, often visited Daniel in his affliction, and prayed and discoursed like men who were on the wing to a better world. By

means of these heavenly communings his spirit was refreshed. One day a company of these pious persons met at Blairfoot, for the purpose of engaging in religious exercises, and they adopted the common precaution of stationing a friend as a warder, to give notice in case of danger. At this time, Dalziel of Kirkmichael and Lieutenant Straiton, with a party of fitty soldiers, were ranging the country in quest of fugitives. Muncie of Durisdeer, the informer, having received notice of the meeting that was being held in Daniel's house, lost no time in communicating information of the circumstance to the commander of the troops, who led his company without delay to Blairfoot. The watchman, however, observed their approach, and hastened to the house with the unwelcome tidings. The party within instantly prepared for flight; but in their haste to be gone they forgot not their sickly brother. They knew that if he were left alone his sickness would procure him no exemption from the ill usage with which the soldiers might be.disposed to treat him, and therefore they determined to remove him from his bed, and carry him along with them. Accordingly they wrapped him in the warm bed-clothes, and conveyed him with all speed, and unobserved, to the cave.

But there was another informer beside Muncie, and one who pretended to belong to their party, and who, under the mask of friendship and of piety had connected himself with them, with a view to accomplish his own nefarious designs. This individual left the cave to give certain information to the party that was in quest of the fugitives. Another of the company having left the hiding-place shortly after the departure of the traitor, and having occasion to call at a smithy in the neighbourhood, was informed that their nameless associate was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and that he would to a certainty conduct the troopers to their place of concealment. On receiving this report, the man hastened back to his companions in the cave to expedite their retreat before the soldiers should arrive. The friends in hiding agreed instantly to vacate the cavern, and to separate themelves into two companies the one party, conveying Daniel, who was unable to walk, to move in the direction of Durisdeer; and the other party to flee towards the dark moss hags of Kirkhope.

It was the design of the latter party to act as a decoy to the dragoons, and to draw them away from the party that was conveying their friend Daniel towards Durisdeer. The dragoons, however, having observed the movement, divided themselves also into two parties, the one pursuing the fugitives that were hastening to the wilds of Kirkhope, and the other following in the route of the company that were moving slowly with their sickly charge.

The company that fled to the moss expected o secure themselves in its deep trenches from

the approach of the soldiers. In some of the mossy parts of the hills and moors there are deep gullies, worn by the impetuous streams that descend from the heights after the melting of the winter snows, or during the gushing of a great thunder spate. These water-courses are in some places covered above with the tufted heather, which, decked with its purple blossoms, waves on each margin of the narrow ditch. It was into one of these slippery conduits that an individual of the fleeing party was endeavouring to creep, when the troopers came in view of the dark and rugged peat ground. This circumstance was observed by one of the dragoons only, who, being unwilling, it would seem, to expose the life of the poor man, fell to the rear of his party, and allowing them to proceed, advanced cautiously to the mouth of the mossy outlet, and seeing the cowering fugitive stretched at his full length in his murky hiding-place, accosted him in a suppressed and gentle tone, saying: "Friend, I know you are one of the party whom we are pursuing; I have no desire, however, to reveal you; creep farther into the hole, and stir not till the danger be overpast." He then rejoined his companions in the pursuit, and how the affair ended with this branch of the fugitives tradition has not said.

Meanwhile, the party who were carrying Daniel were pushing westward in the direction of Durisdeer. On this company the dragoons easily gained ground, as their motions were necessarily impeded by means of the burden with which they were charged. It was obvi ous to every one, and to none more than the sick man himself, that escape was nearly impossible, and it was his urgent request that they should leave him, and provide for their own safety. This they were unwilling to do, but finding that their remaining would endanger their own lives, and could not save his, they, at his earnest desire, concealed him in a cave under the projecting brow of a mountain stream, in hopes that the foe would not find his retreat, while the pursuit would be directed chiefly after themselves. How long, and with what success, the troopers pursued the fleeing party is not said, but had anything of a tragic nature occurred, it is likely that tradition would have preserved it.

Daniel, however, was soon discovered. The soldiers, as was common, were accompanied with dogs, which were often found very useful in leading to a discovery of persons in concealment, and these animals scented out the place where he was hid. The dragoons laid hold on their victim, and mercilessly dragged him from his retreat. Their eye was unaccustomed to spare, and their heart was unused to pity. Without resistance, for it was impossible, and without remonstrance, for it was needless, this holy man, who was ready to seal his testimony with his blood, resigned himself into the hands

of his enemies. He did "not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which was to try him, as though some strange thing had happened unto him." No; for he was already in the furInace, and already had he endured much, and by grace he was prepared to endure more. He heard frequent reports of the martyrdom of his dear friends and beloved brethren, who had 'embarked in the same common cause, and he himself expected to be numbered with those who were daily falling in the wild moorlands around him, and his time to be offered was now near. He was carried by the soldiers to Durisdeer, where he was kept a prisoner during the night, in the silent hours of which he experienced much sweet communion with God, preparatory to the bloody death which he was to suffer on the following day.

Next day he was taken from his place of confinement, sickly as he was, and carried off by the soldiers, with a view, it would appear, to convey him to the garrison in Crawford Moor. The feeble state of his body, however, rendered this impossible, and the troopers were obliged to halt with their charge at the entrance of the pass of Dalveen, where his persecutors determined to ease themselves of their burden by putting an end to his life.

Many questions were put to him, which he declined to answer; and many things were laid to his charge, which he denied. He was told, says Wodrow, that unless he owned the king's supremacy in Church and State, and took the oaths that might be put to him, he must die. "Sir," said he to the commander of the party,

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that is what, in all things, I cannot do, but very cheerfully I submit to the Lord's disposal as to my life." Dalziel replied: "Do you not know that your life is in my hand?" No, Sir," answered he; "I know that my life is in the Lord's hand, and if he see good he can make you the instrument to take it away."

He had been told the night before to prepare for death, for he should die on the morrow. To this he said, with the utmost calmness, "If my life must go for His cause, I am willing; God will prepare me." And his confidence was not disappointed, for He who calls his servants to the endurance of sufferings and death for his sake, did not desert him in the hour of trial. Wodrow says, that the night previous to his martyrdom," he enjoyed a sweet time of communion and fellowship with God, and great outlets of joy and consolation; so that some of the soldiers desired to die his death, and not a few convictions were left in their bosoms." By this means the Lord strengthened his servant, whom he had called forth to witness for his truth, and prepared him with spiritual fortitude and hope and joy for the fiery trial which was before him.

On the green spot where he was doomed to die he was permitted to kneel, and to engage for a brief space in those devotional exercises

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which were befitting a person in his situationa favour not granted to every one. When he had ended his devotions he addressed himself in a very grave and solemn manner to Dalziel, who lent himself to work wickedness and to make havoc of the Church. What impression his discourse made on the commander's mind is not said, but he shrank not from the perpetration of the deed which he meditated.

When the napkin was tied about his face, this faithful witness for Christ, who "loved not his life unto the death," lifted up his voice, and said aloud: "Lord, thou broughtest Daniel through many trials, and hast brought me, thy servant, hither to witness for thee and thy cause; into thy hands I commit my spirit, and hope to praise thee through all eternity." The signal was then given, and four soldiers poured the contents of their muskets into his body, and the warm blood flowed from the wounds in purple streams on the grassy sod. The green heights of Dalveen resounded with the startling report, and the echo leapt from hill to hill, as if to announce to those who dwelt afar in the wilderness that another honoured witness for the truth had fallen. His pains were of short continuance, and his happy spirit, emancipated from its frail tenement, and exulting in glorious victory, winged its way to the regions of eternal bliss.

AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE LIGHT. THOUGH earth-born shadows now may shroud

Thy thorny path, a while,

God's blessed word can part each cloud,
And bid the sunshine smile.
Only BELIEVE, in living faith,

His love and power divine;
And ere thy sun shall set in death,
His light shall round thee shine!

When tempest-clouds are dark on high,
His bow of love and peace
Shines sweetly in the vaulted sky,

Betokening storms shall cease!
Hold on thy way, with hope unchilled,
By faith and not by sight;
And thou shalt own His word fulfilled-
At eve it shall be light!

BARTON.

THE SOULS OF CHILDREN.

1. To you, natural parents, I first address myself; beseeching you, that you go and study what you have dren's early conversion. to do, and do all that you shall know, for your chilI am of the mind, that "gallant language never did God's work;" and do find it what you call "wild note," rather than "set music," that I can ever move you by. Wherefore plainly I tell you, We may thank you for earth's becoming thus unlike heaven, and like to hell. We may thank your negligence, and worse, for the ruin of more children than ever Herod slew, or t and murderer of France himself. We may that children be so generally beasts,

young men; and young devils, before they are old men. We may thank you for vitiating the most numerous, the most ductile, and the most hopeful part of the world-for robbing God of his first-fruits in the world.

I beseech you, by God's tender mercies, repent of your cruelties. And I charge you before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, reform ye straightway, and do as aforesaid. The light of nature, that guides you to help your children to go, and to speak, and to do what is necessary for this life, guides you also to help them for the divine life. Nor can you doubt but God's ordinance in the old Church for the appearance of the male children before him thrice in the year, was to bring them to an early acquaintance with himself: and there is still both need and obligation to keep the substance of that precept now under the Gospel. O let it not be said any longer, that your care is more for your children's clothes than their souls! For shame, sirs, for shame! let them not be wicked without your pity, nor converted without your pains! Think ye daily of both the advantages and engagements to do it.

Dying Dr. Harris said, he was at peace with God, and told his children that his sins should not hurt them therefore, unless they made them their own. Can you say so, if you were now to die? Well; very nature also engages you. Ay, and equity binds you; for your children are God's, more than yours: and, surely it is to him, and for him, that you should educate his children. Truth also engages you. For you promised you would so educate them, when you had them baptized; did you not?

The fear and love of God, if any be in do enyou, gage you. And so doth your own interest also. Yea, lastly, shame engages you. For it is a shame-is it not ? to teach children to honour and serve you, and not to honour and serve their God and yours. I have bid many children ask you, whether, if they were too young to be bound to keep God's commands, they were not also too young to be bound to keep yours. Listen not to the white devils that will suggest, "If your children take not to religion of themselves without your a-do, your pains will do but little good." Do horses or camels tame themselves? Do men tame beasts of the wilderness? and do you not tame the children of your own bodies and families? But, all in a word: does God set you a work, and promise you success; and do you dream it to no purpose to set about it? Read you Prov. xxii. 6: "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." "Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shalt not die. Thou shall beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell." (Prov. xxiii. 13, 14.) "The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame. Correct thy son, and he shall give thee rest; yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul." (Prov. xxix. 15, 17.)

2. As for you, ministers, Church fathers, may I humbly assume to stir up your minds but in way of remembrance? You know, if the lambs be lost, the Lord of the flock will with great anger ask, "Where were the shepherds all the while? what were they doing?" Nor will our highest feeding of the sheep compound for the loss of his lambs. And I doubt it will not suffice to say, "Lord, we were the while digging for profound notions, or disputing nice questions, or studying polite sermons, for people whose peace and whose praise we could not have cheaper."

Brethren, for the Lord's sake, let us all do somewhat weekly, and set the parents of our congregations doing somewhat daily, for young people's souls. And let both set to it hopefully. Let the

difficulty and impossibility, as to our endeavours, be left but to drive us to diligence, and dependence on Him to whom nothing is difficult or impossible. The more we do look for success, the more it will come. Let not catechising, that is praised by all, be unpractised by any. And in preaching, let none of us make need, where we find none, to shoot over young folk's heads, and use a language which we must needs know they understand not. Love of God and of them would make us willing rather to be trampled under scorners' feet for our faithfulness, than to ride over their heads in figures of vain-glorious impertinence; the which wise hearers do no more commend than weak hearers do understand. Neither be it any more grievous to us than it was to St. Austin, to have now and then, "Young people, this is for you." I would be glad to see wanton wits have less sauce, and weak souls have more meat, in all our sermons; and to discern that our pains in making converts did exceed the Papists in making proselytes. For it must be owned, it is an uncolourable profaneness, to baptize infancy and not to teach youth, or but slightly: because otherwise we shall starve the nursery; and then what becomes of Jesus Christ's family?

The good Lord awaken us all, and set ministers, parents, young people themselves, all a-doing, and well-doing! Our Churches then shall be beautified, and joyed, and strengthened with abundance of young meditating Isaacs; young Jacobs, seeking the blessing; young Solomons, choosing wisdom; young Obadiahs, fearing the Lord; young Johns, lying in Christ's bosom; yea, young children, crying "Hosstilling, or shaming at least, and balking, God's enemies and ours. Origen's father, Leonides, would sometimes uncover his breast as he lay asleep, and solemnly kiss it; blessing God, that had given him to be a father to so excellent a child. And so shall many of us have warrant to do. Upon our houses, schools, and churches, it shall be writ and read of all, “Jehovah-shammah-The Lord is there." -Burgess.

anna;

ILLUSTRATIONS OF INFIDELITY.

DAVID HUME.

NO. V.

WE must now attend to a few of the INCONSISTENCIES AND CONTRADICTIONS OF HUME, AS ILLUSTRATIVE OF¦' HIS CHARACTER. In some measure this has been done already. It is impossible not to mark his strong prejudices. These, combined with a low sense of the claims of truth, naturally conduct to inconsistency and contradiction. What can afford a stronger proof || of prejudice than the fact, stated by himself, that in the second edition of part of his History, he made a hundred material alterations from the first edition, and all in favour of one side?-marvellous to add, the side of despotism against freedom! What haste and inaccuracy must there have been in the first edition, and prejudice in the second, or both; and this is the spirit and conduct of a philosophical historian! What could be expected of the consistency of a composition in regard to which he says, wounded at once with the want of success, and the opposition which was provoked by the first volume: "After a long interval, I at last collected so much courage as to renew my application to the second volume, though with infinite disgust and veluctance; and I am sensible

that in many passages of it there are great signs of that disposition, and that my usual fire does not everywhere appear." And this spirit of prejudice did not leave him. It was not a temporary ebullition. Thirteen years after, when he was a man of sixty, we find him, to use his biographer's language, again busy in sifting his History of all remains of popular principles; and there is a tone throughout the letter, as if it were satisfactory to him to be able to overturn the objects of popular idolatry, which a people he so heartily disliked (as the English) had endeavoured to set up in the alleged antiquity of their constitution." What a spirit of prejudice was this in which to write history, and to review it after it was written! Could the author, a stranger meanwhile to the love of truth, and therefore without guiding principle, fail to fall into grievous inconsistency and contradiction? No. Accordingly, besides the conflict between the liberal principle of his Essays and the despotic principles of his History, to which reference has been already made-a History which Gilbert Stuart pronounces "to be, from beginning to end, a plausible defence of prerogative;" and which no friend to humanity or freedom can consider without feeling a lively surprise and patriotic indignation; and which Lord Gardenstone declares, in so far as the House of Stuart is concerned, is "not the statement of an historian, but the memorial of a pleader in a court of justice," besides the inconsistency in regard to civil freedom rising out of strong prejudices, we are compelled to mark the inconsistency, not less conspicuous, in regard to religious liberty.

Taking into account Hume's professed charactcr-his principles of Infidelity-the uncertainty, in his view, of all religious belief, we would have thought him the last man to be intolerant. He seems to be the very paragon of religious neutrality and indifference. Certainly this is the spirit and position which he ought to have maintained, and in which he delighted to represent himself; but, alas! for the practice. Few men, perhaps, were ever more thoroughly uncandid and intolerant. We do not refer merely to his immovableness in controversy waen obviously beaten, but to the spirit of religious bigotry and even persecution which can be traced in his writings. He admits himself that he was a bigot to his own views and prejudices; and Horace Walpole well remarks of the Infidel school to which he belonged, that "they hate priests, but love dearly to have an altar at their feet." Even his biographer, speaking of him at twenty-seven, candidly remarks: Though his philosophy is sceptical, his manner is frequently dogmatical, even to intolerance; and while illustrating the feebleness of all human reasoning, he seems as if he felt an innate infallibility m his own. He afterwards regretted this peculiarity," &c. At forty-five years of age, we find his biographer saying: "The toleration which forbids us to punish our neighbour on account of his creed he had fully learned. That still higher toleration, which forbids us to treat our neighbour's creed with disrespect, he had not yet acquired." It is certainly true that Hume had not learned the latter lesson, but we are by no means sure that he was such a pro

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ficient in the former as to need no further teaching. The language which he employed in characterizing opposing minor systems, especially if religious, betrayed anything but a candid and tolerant mind. He had no mercy for the violence of the Reformers; and yet, amid all the literature and refinement of the eighteenth century, aided by French póliteness, he could indulge in such mild language as, "I leave that to him and his gang; for he is a flatterer, I am told, of that low fellow Warburton." Again: "Lord Milton can with his finger stop the foul mouths of all the roarers against heresy"-"I wish that the parsons would confine themselves to their old occupation of worrying one another, and leave philosophers to argue with temper, moderation, and good manners"-" Our government has become a chimera, and is too perfect in point of liberty for so rude a beast as an Englishman, who is a man, a bad animal! too, corrupted by or above a century of licentiousness." In his essay, again, on suicide, the Christian religion is evidently pointed at under such names as "the modern European superstition," "virulent poison," "cruel enemy," "inhuman tyrant," what "chiefly contributes to render life miserable." Such is the calm and tolerant spirit of Infidel philosophy. Could Christians be much worse in their speech or writings? *

But Hume proceeded farther than the language

his essays, that old Paganism was tolerant, while Chris tianity was persecuting. Supposing this to have been the case, it could have been explained, as we shall shortly notice; but the statement is discreditable to the writer's historical knowledge. It is notorious to well-informed men that Paganisin was persecuting. The "divine" Plato, among the laws of his ideal republic, embraced enactments for maintaining a uniformity of religion, at all times and places -in all writings and conversations; others for compelling all men to worship the gods with the same ceremonies-prohibiting, at the same time, private sacrifices; others for severely punishing such sceptics as would dare to maintain that the wicked could be happy. Would Hume himself have been safe under this regime? It is well known, to use the language of Dr. M'Queen, that even the Greeks, "with all their noble sense of liberty, and at the period of time in which they had the warmest sense of it, would not suffer any one to condemn the public system, and far less

* Hume, in his hatred of revelation, contends, in one of

openly spread the tenets of Atheism." The fearful persecu

tions of Christianity by Paganism in the first three centuries of the Christian era, are notorious persecutions, in which nearly two millions of Christian lives were sacrificed. We need not, however, appeal to independent sources of proof. Hume answers himselt when, in his Note- Book, founding on the 39th book, 16th chapter, of Livy, he records that "exterior superstition was punished by the Romans." He may, perhaps, be regarded as strengthening the statement in favour of Christianity, when he writes, as he does in his Essay on the Liberty of the Press, in 1741, in these terms :—

"Before the united provinces set the example, toleration was deemed incompatible with good government; and it was

thought impossible that a number of religious sects could

live together in harmony and peace, and have all of them an equal affection to their common country and to each other." It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that the united provinces which set the first example of toleration, on Hume's own showing, was not a Pagan, but a Protestant Evangelical-Presbyterian country; and that the creait. therefore, of exemplifying toleration does not belong to Paganism, but to its only effectual antagonist-reas Christianity.