MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES & ANECDOTES.

A THREE YEARS' WOUND.

ONE of my visitors told me one day that there was a woman in her district who was very anxious to see me. I soon found her out, and found her not unwilling to open her mind to me; though she did this rather awkwardly and unconnectedly, as is commonly the case with those who have had no opportunity of speaking to any Christian friend upon spiritual subjects. She was earnestly seeking counsel, and groping her way to the light; but as yet all was darkness. She was in quest of the resting-place, but had not yet reached it.

She told me that she had been in this state of trouble for nearly three years. She had come to hear me one Sabbath evening, and had been arrested in her carelessness. That night the Holy Spirit had fastened an arrow in her conscience, that since then had been rankling there. Her convictions seemed sharp and deep, though by no means so overpowering as I have often seen them in other cases. Her guilt pressed heavily upon her; her sins were continually rising up within, and obtaining the mastery. She knew not what to do. Forgiveness and deliverance from sin seemed to her afar off, and almost hopeless. She was by no means ignorant or stupid; but to the way of peace and forgiveness she was a stranger. That salvation was through Christ, that rest for her soul was to be obtained only through his cross, she knew; but how this was to become hers, how she was to have peace with God, she did not

see.

There seemed an insurmountable barrier between her and Christ. She knew he was Jesus the Saviour, but this appeared nothing to her as long as sin had such dominion over her. Her awful unholiness weighed her down. It seemed utterly to bar all access to Christ. She felt as if she dared not go to Christ in that unholy state. She thought herself unfit to deal with himunfit to receive forgiveness at his hands. She was sure he could not welcome and forgive her so long as she had such a heart of iniquity. She strove to get quit of some of it, that she might come in a better state, and have some hope of being received; but all in vain. She found no relief-her burden was as oppressive as ever.

Her whole idea was, that her unholiness stood between her and forgiveness; that she must be in some measure holy, or at least less unholy, before she could have any hope of pardon. She seemed fixed in this position, and her efforts were like those of one bent upon climbing some steep precipice, who is ever falling backward upon the ground, becoming more and more disabled by each successive endeavour.

She had forgotten "that this Man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." She had forgotten the description which the Pharisees gave of him-a description meant for mockery and contempt, yet still not the less on that account setting forth his true character and office: "He is gone to be guest with a man that is a sinner."

I thought to shew her this-to shew her that it was just her being a sinner that fitted her for Christ the Saviour; that it was just as a sinner, and nothing else, that she could be permitted to deal with him, or that he would have any dealings with her; that she could not make herself any better before going to him; and that if she could, she would not need him at all. She followed me as I went along, but said nothing. When, however, I came to show her pointedly that she was actually reversing God's way of salvation, by putting holiness before forgivenness, she immediately exclaimed very simply, "That's a weight off my mind."

"But am I not to be holy first at all? Am I to go just as I am at this moment?" said she.

"Yes, just as you are at this moment; for the Son of Man came to seek and save that which was lost."

"But is forgiveness really first?"

"Yes, it is first; holiness, the fruit of love to God, follows. 'We love Him because he first loved us.' There can, therefore, be no holiness till there has been forgiveness first, and forgiveness comes from simply believing the record which God hath given us of his own Son."

This was good news to her weary soul. Her burden seemed to roll from off her shoulder into the tomb of Christ, so that she saw it no more; but, like Christian in the "Pilgrim's Progress," went on her way rejoicing and singing, as he did

"Blest cross, blest sepulchre, blest rather be

The Man that there was put to shame for me!"

FRAGMENTS, BY MURUS.*

No. 1.

YOUR friend was born in the month of April, 1774. The place of his nativity was a small village or hamlet, in the parish of Darley-in-the-dale, not far from the high road between Bakewell and Matlock Bath, in the county of Derby. There it pleased the Divine Being to breathe into him the breath of life; and there at periods which involved weakness, helplessness, and entire dependence upon others, he passed through many narrow, yea, hair-breadth escapes. More than once the vital spark seemed ready to depart, had not a special providence interposed; facts which justify the conclusion, that good nursing, with the use of appropriate means, under the blessing of heaven, has often accomplished wonders.

The malignant distemper, known by the name of small-pox, he got well and easily through, though he had the disease, not as propagated by inoculation, but as the simple action of nature. His friends might have their conscientious scruples on this subject, and considering that children being travellers, newly arrived in a strange country, they ought not to be treated as articles of speculation on their passage. The measles and hooping-cough were to him, in their process, attended with much danger, and were trying visitations.

The whole human race are doomed to suffer affliction through the fall of man, and therefore, that question: "shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?" Thanks be to infinite mercy! the "Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost." The young need this Saviour as well as the old, and many precious promises are found interspersed throughout the sacred volume for their encouragement.

While under seven years of age, the writer had been taught to commit to memory, the catechism of the Church of England, together with other parts of the Book of Common Prayer. When a little older, he was allowed to sit up till family devotion was performed, and had then a prayer to repeat in his turn. These means, it was hoped, would have a tendency to fix holy impressions on his heart. The ashes of those who enforced this course of discipline, have long ago been mouldering in the dust, waiting for a glorious resurrection. Praised be the Lord, for their pious and useful examples and for their happy deaths!

"There is something unspeakably cheerful in a spot of ground which is covered with trees that smile amidst all the rigours of Winter, and gives us a view of the most gay season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy."

RESIST NOT EVIL.

A MAN wished to drain a marshy pool in his garden, and very impudently turned the water in under the fence into his neighbour's garden.

Those of our readers who have not studied the dead languages, but who may wish to know the name of the author of these Fragments, will acquire that knowledge by ascertaining the meaning of the Latin word "MURUS."

The man whose rights were thus invaded was a Christian. He said nothing, but immediately employed a man to dig a trench, and provide for the removal of the water. He greeted his neighbour as he daily met him, with his accustomed cordiality, and was more careful than ever to set him the example of integrity and high-minded generosity. Whether the man who was guilty of this meanness ever felt ashamed of his conduct, we cannot tell, but this we know, that the harmony which had existed between the two families remained uninterrupted; and they lived, side by side, year after year in perfect peace.

Said another one, who lived close by, and witnessed this transaction, "It is an outrage which I would not tolerate; I would build a strong dam by the side of my fence, and drive the water back again upon him." This is the spirit of the world. Let us see how this plan would have worked. In the first place it would have enraged the individual thus frustrated in his sordid undertaking; and the more fully conscious he was that he was in the wrong, the more would his malignity have been excited. We can better bear the injuries which others inflict upon us, than the consciousness that it is our own dishonourable conduct which has involved us in difficulties. He immediately would have adopted retaliatory measures, and either have thrust his bar through the opposing wall, or have contrived some other scheme by which he might annoy his adversary. Provocations and retaliations would have ensued in rapid succession. A family feud would probably have been at once enkindled, extending to the children as well as to the parents, which might never have been extinguished. Immediately there would have ensued a train of petty annoyances, leading eventually to an expensive law-suit, and embittering years of life.

As it was, the Christian governed his conduct by the principles of the Gospel. He submitted to the wrong, and probably, by submitting to it in the spirit which Christianity enjoins, converted the event into a blessing to himself, his family, and his neighbour. The occurrence was forgiven, and in a few days forgotten; and the family lived years, side by side, in friendship, prosperity, and perfect peace. Is it not better to follow the advice God gives, than to surrender ourselves to the dominion of our own passions?

MY CLOSET.

My closet, my dwelling, my social retreat,
Where I with my Jesus in concert may meet:
How many the objects inviting me there,
To pour out my soul in the ardour of prayer.

When tempests are rising, and stormy winds blow,
And all the dim future is darkness and woe;

I have a pavilion to which I repair,

And rest in my closet-my temple of prayer.

When shades of thick darkness spread over my heart,
And fears that my Saviour's about to depart;

I come to my closet, and find Him still there;

His hands filled with blessings to answer my prayer.

My Saviour is found in all places below;
His blessings abound and his graces o'erflow;

A temple, a closet, I find everywhere,
And Jesus there waiting as I come to prayer.

I'll bless the glad day when his grace I first felt;
His mercy then saved me, and cancell'd my guilt;
My closet I'll visit, and never despair-

'Tis there my dear Saviour first answer'd my prayer.

FIDELITY AMONG TEACHERS.

A PIOUS Deacon took a class of six young females, which was soon increased to twelve. None of them, when they entered the class, gave evidence of piety. The teacher was in the habit of making practical remarks, and conversing with each member of the class individually, respecting the state of their souls. So far from fearing that this course of faithfulness would break up his class, he regarded it as the only course, by which he could gain the attention and regard of his scholars, and secure their willing continuance in the Sabbath-school.

The result of these faithful efforts was, all the members of that class soon became either hopefully pious, or were anxiously inquiring "what they should do to be saved."

"I belong," said one, "to a class in the Sabbath-school of eight girls, all of whom have become hopefully pious within a few weeks." It was very pleasant, but not at all unexpected, to learn that they had enjoyed the prayers and instructions of a faithful teacher.

A minister of the Gospel, when relating publicly what the Lord had been doing for his people, said, "he had a class of twenty young persons, all but two of whom were indulging the hope that they had recently passed from death unto life." His wife also had a class, about the same proportion of whom gave pleasing evidence of a change of heart.

A teacher who was rejoicing over the hopeful conversion of eighteen youth, that had been connected with her classes in the Sabbath-school, said, with great emotion," that she had received letters from several of her old scholars, then residing in other towns, who referred her back to the instructions they had received in their little class, as the means which God had been pleased to bless, in leading them to their Saviour.

Miss had two classes in two different schools; one of eight, and the other of ten scholars. In a single autumn, these eighteen scholars all became hopefully pious. About a year after their conversion, she said, with tears of inexpressible joy, "Last Sabbath, my last scholar made a public profession of her faith in Christ.'

REMEMBER THE CORK.

WHEN Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was ill, King James II. sent an Irish priest to convert him to Popery. The Duke, apprized of the visit and its object, very courteously received the priest, and expressed great willingness to be instructed. But before they entered upon religious discussion, it was agreed that they should drink a glass of wine together. After they had drank a while, the Duke took the cork out of the bottle, and stroking it with great gravity, asked the priest: "How do you like this horse?" The priest was confounded and silent. The Duke continuing all the while to stroke the cork, and praise his beautiful horse. "Your grace," at length said the priest, "has chosen an unseasonable time to be merry." 66 Merry!" cries the Duke; "Merry! I was never more serious in my life. Does not your reverence see that this is a beautiful horse?" "Your grace," replies the father, "should compose yourself, and consider." "Consider!" answers the Duke, smartly, "what must I consider? Don't you see how fine a horse it is?" "Oh," said the priest, "don't be foolish-it is surely a poor joke to call a cork a horse!" "What! would you persuade me that so fine a courser is nothing but a cork?" Nothing but a cork," says the father. "Well," replies the Duke, calmly, as if recovering from a dream, "I will not be too positive-my illness may have discomposed my mind; but how do you prove that it is not a horse?" And saying this, he looked as if very insane. The priest, by way of settling the question, replied: "My dear Lord Duke, you must see the thing is nonsense. took what you call your horse out of that bottle a few minutes ago; and if you are not out of your senses, you must know that it is simply a cork." "Oh, well, well," said the Duke, "your reverence may be right, I am

You

subject to whims; let us talk no more of the cork, but proceed to the holy business which brought you hither." The priest then entered on points controverted between Papists and Protestants, and continued until the Duke said: "If your reverence can prove to me the doctrine of transubstantiation, I can easily believe all the rest." This the priest commenced to do in the best way he could, and concluded by asking the Duke if he did not think the transubstantiation believed in by the Romish Church both possible and true. The Duke listened very attentively to all he had to say, and answered the question thus: "You thought me foolish, perhaps suspected me getting insane, when I spoke of a cork as a horse-your assertion of bread and wine being the actual body and blood of Christ is every whit as absurd, and a little more profane. Out of your own mouth you are condemned. You take a piece of bread out of a box, pronounce a few words over it, and then declare it changed into flesh and blood. You must see that the thing is nonsense, if not worse. If you are not out of your senses, it cannot but be evident to you that it is bread still, and nothing else. Remember the cork, father; remember the cork!"

EPITAPH TO THE MEMORY

OF THE LATE REV. JONATHAN TATE, OF NORTH SHIELDS,

By his Father.

THE Beacon Tower, the ancient Abbey walls,
Where Ruin sits within his vacant stalls;
The promontory where thy bones are laid,
Which ocean's stormy forces oft invade;
Strewn all around and far beneath the tide,
With fallen fragments of its rocky pride;
The hand of Time, the ocean's heaving wave,
May yet unseat. The rock which holds thy grave,
Its awful peak, in dark majestic frown,
A rocky avalanche, go rumbling down.
Thy place of sepulture may changed be,
Now buried in the earth, then in the sea.

But, when the trump of doom shall wake the dead,
Who sleep in earth, or ocean's oozy bed;

At that loud blast, thou, with the first shalt rise,
"The dead in Christ," and claim thy kindred skies;

The Christian, thou, the minister of truth,

Shalt wake to glory and immortal youth.

THE EMANCIPATED SLAVE.

A YOUNG lady, a visitor of a Bible Association in New York, found her way to an obscure cellar, where she discoverd a coloured woman far gone in a consumption with her aged husband sitting by the bed-side, and another coloured woman about the age of forty, acting in the capacity of nurse and servant. The young lady told them her business. When the sick woman heard that she came on an errand of mercy, her withered and sickly countenance assumed an unwonted glow and brightness. After expressing a steadfast hope of salvation through the merits of the Saviour, she gave the following epitome of her life. But a few years before, she was a slave in New Orleans: by industry and economy, she and her husband were enabled to purchase their freedom; and in the course of two or three years to lay up about 400 dollars. Sitting at the door of a cottage one morning, she heard that a number of slaves were to be sold by auction that day. She determined to go and see the sale, and if possible, to buy one of the female captives, and restore her to liberty. "I have so much money," said she, "and if I can make it the instrument of redeeming one of my fellow beings from slavery, then I can say to my soul, Depart in peace.' She