to answer the requirements of the inflexible law of a holy and just God. But she had not this acquaintance with me; and wondering at what had fallen from her brother's lips, hoping also that he would soon abandon his strange notions, and be rid of his needless apprehensions, she said no more and bade him good night.

CHAPTER IX.

THE COLLEGIAN.

THE time came when my young owner was to return to college, and he chose me to accompany him. I was, by this time, used to travelling, and after the short imprisonment in darkness and silence which the removal involved, I was released uninjured, and found myself in a small room, overlooking a spacious square or quadrangle, formed by the buildings of which my owner's rooms composed a part.

For a short time nothing material occurred to disturb the quiet in which we seemed to be immured; and no alteration took place in the bearing of my owner towards myself, except that as he was now obliged to give more attention to my learned associates, I had, perhaps necessarily, somewhat less of his time. I had no ground, however, to complain of neglect.

And yet it was not difficult to perceive that my owner derived less satisfaction from my communications than at our first acquaintance. I could find a reason for this, though he could not; he had not yet been brought to "receive the kingdom of God as a little child:" convinced of sin and of the need of pardon, he would not renounce self-dependence and self-atonement. He had not yet resolved to trust himself entirely to Him who alone is "mighty to save;" and to throw away every expectation of earning the mercy of God, by receiving it as his free gift. With others, who in like manner have sought to clothe themselves in their own righteousness, which I am commissioned to declare is "as filthy rags,' but who, at length, have been convinced by the Spirit of the worthlessness and folly of such vain refuges, my young owner might, afterwards, have written thus of himself:

"Long did I seek to serve thee, Lord,
With unavailing pain;

Fasted, and prayed, and read thy word,
And heard it preached in vain.

Oft did I with th' assembly join,
And near thine altar drew;
A form of godliness was mine,
The power I never knew.

I rested in the outward law,
Nor knew its deep design;
The length and breadth I never saw,
And height of love Divine.

To please thee thus, at length I see,
Vainly I hoped and strove ;
For what are outward things to thee,
Unless they spring from love?

I see thy perfect law requires
Truth in the inward parts;

Our full consent, our whole desires,
Our undivided hearts.

But I of means had made my boast,

Of means an idol made,

The spirit in the letter lost,

The substance in the shade."

How he was rescued from this perilous condition of self-trust, I shall presently tell. In the mean time, he was exposed to danger from another and an opposite source. Not many days after his return, his solitude was interrupted by a young man of showy exterior and much freedom of manner and speech, whom I immediately understood to have been, not long since, one of my owner's chosen companions and close friends. As this youth garnished, as he supposed, but defiled, as I must say, his language with much that was indecent and profane, I shall not transcribe his conversation at large, but simply rehearse some parts of its substance, which bore more particularly on my connexion with his friend.

"What is all this I hear, Leonard ?" he asked, with a friendly smile, as he somewhat boisterously entered the room, and shook my owner heartily by the hand. "They tell me that you are turned saint, all at once; but I don't believe it."

"You may very safely say that," said my owner, gravely; "believe me, I am no saint. If they had told you that I have not long since discovered that I have been a very great sinner, you would have been told the truth."

The young visitor broke into a hearty laugh, for which he presently apologized: "Pray forgive me for being so rude," he said; "but this from you, and with such a grave, sanctimonious face, too. Now, do say that again," he added, in a bantering tone. “It is the best thing I have heard a long while."

"I do not see why it should amuse you," replied Leonard; "but you must be amused if you will. I tell you only the truth.”

"The truth! Oh, no doubt of it. Do we not all say every Sunday that we are miserable sinners ?” He said this in a tone of mockery. "It is no such grand discovery that you have made,” said he.

"It is a discovery, however," said my young owner, “which has brought me, I hope, to my right mind, and made me resolve that the time past of my life shall have sufficed for 'walking in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revellings, banquetings

"Hold, hold, before you choke yourself, my dear fellow," rejoined the visitor, greatly amused, as it seemed, for he again laughed heartily; “why this is ranting madness, Leonard. But come, it is all a joke, I see; though I did not know you were

G

such a capital mimic. Do let us have a little more of it."

My owner declared-and so earnestly that his friend at length believed him—that he was never more serious than now.

"Then I must take you to task more gravely," said the visitor; "for this sort of thing will not do, you know. What will our men say to it, do you think?"

66

They will all say as you do, Charles," returned my owner, "that I am mad. I cannot help it. It will be nothing new or strange. But, after all, of what am I accused, my friend?"

"Accused! Oh, you are accused of nothing more than you have let out already to me.

The first and

the worst things I have heard of you are, that you have taken to sulking; have all but cut us; refused to come to a wine party; declared that you will not enter a billiard-room again; have——"

"In other words," said Leonard, "that I intend to be more obedient to college regulations than I have previously been; not much harm in that, surely."

"Pooh, pooh, that is not all. They tell me that you put on such a sanctified face in chapel, and look so devout, that there are already a dozen caricatures of you in as many prayer books: you, who used to make fun of it altogether, and call it a farce from beginning to end."

"I know it all," said Leonard, sadly; "but what