peculiar and surprising. It is the natural progress of sin. If there is any thing surprising in the course of a sinner it is, that he should ever take the first step into the paths of temptation-all the following steps admit, alas! of too easy an explanation. No temptation is final. Each one leads to another in an unbroken series; and the last lays hold on hell! Let no one say then, 'Thus far will I go on forbidden ground, and no farther.' It is the language of presumption and ignorance. Lefevre thought this, if he dared not utter it. And, if any one might have thought it, he might; for he was temperate, intelligent, and virtuous. But how is he ensnared! Every step he takes seems to give the colour of impossibility to his return. Sin indeed is as the 'letting out of water, better not meddled with,'-it appears, at first, like the little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, and excites no alarm; but it imperceptibly widens and lengthens, till it spreads all around us the gloom of hopeless sorrow!

CHAPTER XVII.

WHILE Lefevre was hoping for temporary peace by violent efforts to suppress the voice of conscience, he was subjected to new alarm from a voice, that was neither to be cajoled nor resisted-it was the voice of creditors. He had failed to learn the right use of money by his past embarrassments. He had flattered himself about the patience of those to whom he was indebted, and his capacity, in the end, to satisfy them, till his difficulties forced themselves upon him, and appeared in a menacing and insurmountable aspect.

He had already, in addition to the sum Wallis lent him, borrowed £100 of an acquaintance on interest. This, for a time, set him free from his entanglements, and enabled him to redeem the pledge he had given to his brother's creditors; but, as his plan of expenditure was not improved, he was only removing the evil to

a more distant day. Now the crisis returned upon him; and became the more threatening, from the very postponement. It was the turn of the year, and the demands upon him were general and unanswerable, and were sometimes connected with most sharp reflections.

Lefevre, whose high spirit could ill brook importunity, and who was vexed by reproach in proportion as he was conscious of meriting it, in his first anger was ready to declare, that he would punish impudence with non-payment. A sense of justice, however, soon recovered him from the extravagance of passion; and he felt that with the strong arm of the law, he could not dare to trifle.

In this emergency he saw but one resource-in this he sought comfort. "I will write," said he, "to my friend Deacon, and borrow another £50 of him-that will free me from these miserable cormorants." He did write, and received an immediate reply. He burst the letter in search of the money; but no money was there! Mr. Deacon had, perhaps, doubts

of his prudence, and he merely wrote, that he was willing to make the advance, provided he gave not only the interest on the whole, but security likewise.

This note provoked Lefevre exceedingly. With a consciousness of his own integrity, he had little respect for the forms of business; and he pronounced such a condition, a personal insult. He tore the offending note into a hundred pieces, and angrily declared, he would have nothing to do with its author. Much of his anger, however was diverted when he had reflected on his situation, and he smiled bitterly to think, that such were his necessities, he must either forego resentment to one man's conduct, or bear the insolence of many. His mind was chafed and irritated excessively; and he closed the day irresolute what to do, and dreading the consequences of doing nothing.

It happened that on the night of this day Douglas took a bed, as he occasionally did, with Mr. Russell. He slept on the same floor with Lefevre; and the door common to the two rooms was, as was

usual when he was a guest, thrown open. Lefevre and he, by this accommodation, had often talked each other to sleep; but little use was made of it at this time. Lefevre was dejected and silent; this, however, had latterly become so common to him in the presence of his religious friends, that Douglas scarcely observed it.

In the night he was awakened by Lefevre's muttering in his sleep; but sought to compose himself again, as he knew he was in some degree accustomed to it. Lefevre, however, prevented his intention. He presently rose up in his bed, and, with great agitation, exclaimed at intervals" Pay!-yes, I'll pay you !I tell you I will pay you- -have patience -O don't persecute me!-I can't pay yet-wait a bit" He sprang from his bed and walked, still asleep, across the rooms, with a scornful air. He was silent two or three minutes, and then continued, -"Pay you! For insult, hey? Feel what I have felt, that's the best pay for you-No principle!-say that again"and he clenched the post of Douglas's

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