the whole consensus veterum, all will be set at naught-so far will self partiality carry him away from truth, reason, and experience.

Q-I always suspect, when I see such obstinacy, and an overweening desire to carry points-more especially when I see the youth possessed of a peculiar physical temperament, that he is but commencing a cycle of extravaganzas that but too often ends in deplorable derangement. Suppose you see before you in the person of a hot and fearless declaimer against some great error he desires to contend with, or in favour of some new doctrine he insists must be God's truth- -a youth with a sallow saturnine aspect-nose aquiline above, and distended below-mouth large-lips thin-eyes dark, prominent, and bloodshot-forehead narrow, but full-hair black, coarse, and horse-like-cranium developing combativeness excessive-cautiousness very small-benevolence moderate-self-esteem protuberant-veneration high and ridge-like-chin elevatedhead thrown back-body erect-gait firm and rapid-hands long, bony, bloodless, and tremulous-nails long and transparent, denoting a tendency to scrofula; then my dear X, keep your eye on that man-watch his walk through the world, and my life for it, you will find he has a genius "valde hereticum," and is likely to be either the leader of a new sect, or the tenant of a mad-house. X.-I doubt not but you are right, and surely one of the most dangerous events that can happen to such a temperament, is to fall in the way of temptation, by being called to a city pulpit, and so surrounded by religious flatterers-whose importunities he cannot resist whose exactions he cannot withdraw from; and who becomes the idol and yet the slave of a set of ladies, whose demands are merciless-whose love is without compassion, and whose eyes, manners, and devotedness, are full of the deadliest flattery. These keep such a youth in a constant state of religious excitement, by affording all appliances, and means to boot, to foster his besetting sin. Why, Sir, if he is not sent to an untimely grave, after lecturing away his lungs and larynx, he is at least rendered entirely unfit for the decorous restraints of any church; and soon he overleaps boundaries-dashes daringly with his heretical bias, away from all old paths-roaming a religious vagabond, and wanderer over the face of Christianity, and at length rolls off into some corner, where he stands alone a poor wayward, vexed, and pitied thing-over whom the pious lament-towards whom the prudent point the finger-and all, as they pass by, must say, alas "Son of the morning, how art thou fallen!"

Q. I once knew a man of the stamp, and truly none could promise fairer when first he made his appearance in the religious world. He had received honours in the University, and was considered as one who had talents capable of great attainments-application sufficient to master many difficulties, and physical powers of address and utterance, calculated to win for him golden opinions. But premiums, bonours, and encouragments are dangerous things for some dispositions; and though he early took a religious turn, and courted the society of pious people, yet doubtless he walked into common life, surrounded with an atmosphere of much

self-approbation. He was able in controversy, and passionately fond of it-fluent in language, and proud of his facility as a public speaker. This passion for dispute-this flow of utterancethis love of oratory, I hold it was his bane; it became as necessary as his daily food, to out-argue others; and still he laid the unction to his soul, that he was winning others to Christ, (for Christ and he were always identified) when, in fact, his ambition was but to win them to his own following. At first he was a most devoted churchman-who dare gainsay, or stigmatise his dear old faultless mother; who though not infallible, was never in the wrong! Oh yes, he loved the church; but he must be allowed to lead a party in that church; and all who differed from him, though they might not be knaves, were certainly fools; and he then would narrow the church's pale, and by a circumvallation marked out with his own rod, he would exclude those whom Christ had not excluded. He would talk as if HE only knew the mind of Christ-he only held his Gospel-he only felt for his cause-he only could and would contend for it. And he loved to clothe others in the habit and garb of heresy-would often cry out mad dog, and halloo after what he himself had designated as dangerous.

But why detain you longer from his catastrophe. The man was launched on an inclined plane, and onwards and downwards must he go. He who erewhile was the head of a party IN the church, must soon be the leader of a sect OUT of the church. He gloried in his own little flock, and said all Christianity was there, and IT was all the kingdom on earth, that he would assign unto the Saviour of the world. Some fourteen or fifteen souls he seduced to be his followers; and as they sat in an upper room in our city he was their only true pastor, and they the only true Church. And then be meddled with the Sabbath, and afterwards plunged into predestination and election; and put forward the monstrous tenet, that in the decrees of God, some were elect unto salvation; but that the proof of that election was, that they might "continue in sin," that "grace might abound," and so while sons of God, they might work all uncleanness with greediness; but that others were predestinated to holiness here and glory hereafter. I fear he considered himself as amongst the former. Unknown to himself, perhaps, from the beginning, there lay a mine of sensuality in his disposition; and now there was no safety-lamp at hand, to guard the fire-damp from explosion; and like him whom the apostle depicts-he brought in a damnable heresy, the more securely to indulge in sensuality; "having eyes that could not cease from sin." And so this idolizer of the child of his own brain, went on, propounding his dogmas, and living in secret licentiousness-taken captive as it were, by his own will-" the devil searing his conscience, and making him reprobate as to the true faith."

I saw him afterwards the most pitiable sight that ever the sun shope on a deranged man-the most miserable of monomaniacs. He had formed the horrible imagination, that while grovelling in his sanctified licentiousness, he had committed some not to be named crime, in punishment for which, Jehovah had annihilated

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his soul, but left him with body and mind all capable of most exquisite suffering; and he said he was doomed to walk the world, a spectacle to angels, demons, and men, now protruded beyond the possibility of salvation, a wretch could exist to the end of time, without volition-without hope; but all capable of exquisite passion and sensation-his conscience all raw-his nerves all bare, and thrillingly alive to every drop of liquid fire that fell in torrents from God's hot and unappeasable vengeance!!

X. This is, indeed, a deplorable picture of the ruin the moral and intellectual ruin-of a gifted young man. Do you not think that a BAD EDUCATION is a primary cause of much of the folly and fanaticism manifested by many who assume the Christian name?

Q.-Undoubtedly it does: and perhaps many a weak-minded though Christian woman may be astounded on the great day of andit, by seeing much of an only child's religious morbidism, and, of course, religious misery, traced up to her own foolish pampering and indulgence.

X.-It strikes me, as, I suppose, it must strike every one who thinks at all upon the subject, that there are two grand extremes to which enthusiasm tends the one is, when religious impressions act upon the "heady and high-minded," and they are driven by circumstances and their own restless dispositions from one landmark to another, until they are precipitated into the gulf of Antinomianism-the other is, when these same impressions act upon delicate and sensitive minds-minds nicely alive to the moral beauty of holiness, and within whose breasts the stillest whisper of conscience reverberates like the thunder in the heavens-and these are impelled onward in their race with such impetuosity, as to break down frequently at little obstacles which cross their path, and often start aside into Insanity.* Cowper is the poet of this

:

"When the blood and spirits run high, inflaming the brain and imagination, it is most properly enthusiasm-which is religion run mad; when low and dejected, causing groundless terrors, or placing the great duty of man in little observances, it is superstition-which is religion scared out of its senses; when any fraudulent dealings are made use of, and any wrong projects carried on under the mask of piety, it is imposture, and may be termed religion turned hypocrite. After the spirits have been wound up too high, and put upon extraordinary efforts, a weakness and depression of course succeed. And we may look upon enthusiasm as a kind of drunkenness, filling and intoxicating the brain with the heated fumes of spirituous particles; but no sooner do the inebriation and incalescence go off, but a sinking of the spirits, a coldness and dulness take place and the lower is the depression in proportion to the preceding elevation."-Bishop Lavington. "I have heard that Mrs. Winchell is deranged. I felt, when I prayed for her, as if she would be supported. When I realise by what a slender hold I retain that reason which can alone make me useful, the reason of which, if of anything thing, I have been proud, it humbles me in the dust. It is of God's infinite mercy that my late afflictions have not made a wreck of my mind. I have deserved it. But will not He who has helped, continue to help me? He who has carried me through the greater, will he not carry me through the less? Shall I distrust him now? Shall I not commit the whole disposal of myself to him? This I know-if I am sustained, it will not be by dint of my own natural resolution or fortitude. No, no. To God will be all the praise."-Mrs. Huntington.

class-but as you have given a specimen of the one, drawn from private life, allow me to give you a specimen of the other.

I became acquainted with James M- about six years ago. Similarity of disposition and feeling endeared us much one to another; and when we found out that we both loved that glorious Gospel which is the power of God unto salvation, we became so attached, that, as he had no friends in Dublin, I proposed that he should lodge with me; and all our spare time we spent in each other's company.

I never met with a man whose whole conduct was more in keeping with my beau ideal (dare I use such an expression?) of spiritual-mindedness. There was a quiet unobtrusiveness in his manners, which, though resulting from natural disposition, seemed to me to be so heightened and improved by the influence of the truth, as to deserve the name of that Christian grace-humility. He was extremely nervous-but being seldom exposed to disturbing elements, he had a calm settled seriousness about him, which gave an additional interest to the mildness of his manners, and the variety of his mental acquirements. But to hear him descant upon "things unseen and spiritual !"-he seldom indeed spoke much on any subject in the company of strangers-but in our domestic circle he would enlarge in such eloquent strains on the glory and grandeur of the Gospel, that I have really at times almost thought that he was inspired; and during the first winter of his residence with us, when the Sabbath evenings were dark and stormy, and we were reluctant to stir out to Church, I have observed even my youngest sister anxious to see the "loud hissing urn" make its appearance, and James, with his Bible, commenting upon that holy love which casteth out fear," or displaying those "exceeding great and precious promises," on which the soul rests with delight even in the hour of security, and to which, in the hour of danger and alarm, it clings, and which will form its only security when the footsteps of God are heard amid the crashing of a burning world. It was then, to use his own words, that "the candle of the Lord shone upon his tabernacle."

About a year after our intimacy began, he fell into a dull and languid state, which seemed to be the result of nervous depression. He had occasionally exhibited similar symptoms, but they never lasted long-at this time, however, they were both long and severe, and occasioned distress to the whole family, who were pained to see him so apparently unhappy.*

"My soul is, and has for a long time been in a piteous condition, wading through a series of sorrows of various kinds. I have been so crushed down sometimes with a sense of my meanness and infinite unworthiness, that I have been ashamed that any, even the meanest of my fellow-creatures, should so much as spend a thought about me, and have wished while travelling among the thick brakes, like one of them to drop into everlasting oblivion. In this case sometimes I have resolved never again to see any of my acquaintance; and really thought I could not do it and hold up my face; and have longed for the remotest region for a retreat from my friends, that I might not be seen or heard of any more."

I slept in the same room with him-and truly it was often to me a feast and a refreshment to have half an hour's converse with him, previous to our retiring to rest. Now, he was moody and silent -and I have often been vexed and annoyed by hearing him in the night season sobbing and sighing as if his heart would break, while his pale countenance and swollen eyes indicated in the mornings that he had enjoyed but little sound repose. I ventured to remonstrate with him on his vigils-but his reply silenced me. "My brother in Christ," he said" the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and-dear as you are to me-you cannot intermeddle with my sorrow.*"

One night, in particular, I lay awake, listening to his moanings and sobbings, and pained to the very quick by his distress. Suddenly I saw him spring from his bed-walk up and down the room agitated and apparently in agony of spirit-then he knelt down near the window, and stretching out his hand towards the heavens, he exclaimed, "Lord, tell me, O, tell me, whether I am thine or no!" and similar expressions; and he remained on his knees longer than I could lie awake to witness him, seemingly wrestling in prayer with God. The secret of his distress was thus revealed to me-he was harassing himself with that figment which has been the means of harassing so many pious minds-Personal Assurance of Faith.†

"This morning, was greatly oppressed with guilt and shame, from a sense of inward vileness and pollution. About nine, withdrew to the woods for prayer; but had not much comfort. I appeared to myself the vilest, meanest creature upon earth, and could scarely live with myself. So mean and vile I appeared, that I thought I should never be able to hold up my face in heaven, if God of his infinite grace should bring me thither."---David Brainerd.

* "Groaning and lamenting, night after night, she literally watered her couch with her tears-the house continually resounding throughout the silent watches with the voice of her weeping. Long would her mother lie sleepless, listening to expressions of grief for which she had no remedy or comfort; or when awakening from slumbers, which, through weariness of nature, she could not avoid, finding Isabella absent, she would thus be filled with alarm, lest some new calamity should visit her beloved child. Thus, at dead of night, had she to rise and leave the house, and search for her in the fields, or where she often found her, and that during the depth of winter, careless of any of its storms, weeping and praying in her little garden. 'O then it was pitiful to see her,' she has said to me, 'not like an earthly creature. I could give her no help, and she could find none where she was seeking it. She looked so pale and wo-begone, it was easily seen that her misery could not be told."--Isabella Campbell.

"What could be expected from their training up their disciples to the expectation of impulses, impressions, feelings, experiences, &c. but that some should be elated with groundless confidences and presumption; and others sunk into the dismal and dreadful gulf of despair? Persons of weak spirits, or a melancholy disposition (and therefore the more likely to fall into Methodism) will naturally be carried into despondency, look upon themselves as reprobated, and forsaken of God; because they do not feel these effects in themselves, nor come up to the experiences of others."

"And how shall tender minds stand the shock of these violent assaults ? When such a confident assurance is made a certain mark of grace, and the want of it as certain a mark of damnation; what can the weak, the modest