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A. Yet you seem to know the quality of "fruits" of that sort; you see it to be but bribing, by what you say. Now, do you really think it would be a hard task for a man of common sense, partly by hearing a minister, and partly by enquiries amongst those of his hearers whose judgment he most respects, to know whether he be an honest and able servant of his God and his people? I think you at least are a man of sense enough for that.

B. Well, I own again that what you say is fair.

A. Yes, and I think it would be fair to conclude that by far the greater part of those ministers who are supported by their hearers' contributions must be honest men.

B. Why, no; they may impose on the people.

A. Imposition may be; and when the priests tell the people, as those "successors of the apostles" you talk of, and Roman Catholic priests, actually do, "that it is sinful to reason and enquire; that they must have unquestioning faith in the church, that is, in the priests of it;" why, such men may and do impose on their credulous hearers. But I ask of you as a fair man, How can a minister impose, who first endeavours to have all his people taught to read by Sunday schools or otherwise, who then teaches them that the scriptures (not any creed or liturgy) are the only authority for all, and who further urges them to search those very scriptures for themselves: I ask, how can such a man impose on the people? Imposition never long outlived free enquiry and discussion.

B. Well, I like these last remarks of yours well. It is not pleasant, after all, to think more of our fellow-men rogues than we are forced to do; but you will own, that of all hypocrites a hypocritical minister is the worst.

A. I will, indeed; and will so much the more hope that bad as we all are, there are not such numbers of the very worst men, as there must be, if the generality of ministers were impostors. If, moreover, a bad minister be the worst of men, it can only be because a good one is the best of men.

B. Well, it must be so, and it is so too.

A. Now, bear with one honest remark more. When, in beginning your reasons for not going to public worship, you mentioned first that you thought "the parsons impostors," &c., you did not "begin at the beginning."

B. Why? what do you mean?

A. I mean, you did not tell me the first thing which made you dislike God's worship.

B. Why, perhaps not; if I were to say the truth, perhaps I should say that I do not believe in your bible at all. I own I am an infidel, and a socialist; now, is not that "beginning at the beginning?"

A. No, by no means. I should like to have a few words with you on that subject; what time do you walk home to night?

B. About six o'clock, and I should like too to have a few words with you upon it.

A. Well, I think I can shew you that infidelity is not the beginning. With all the evil there is in man, infidelity is not natural to him. Children are not infidels. Infidelity has its beginning in youth or riper years, and generally the reason for it is easily discoverable. Well, good bye, and let us not forget during the day, that the way in which each of us are spending this day of rest had a beginning, a beginning within our recollection, and let us fairly ask whether it was a good beginning.

(To be continued.)

"WHY SHOULD I NOT ENJOY MYSELF?"

TO SUNDAY WANDERERS WHO HAVE BEEN SUNDAY SCHOLARS.

"I work hard all the week; I am confined in the mill or the shop all the best hours of every day; Saturday night finds me quite jaded; Sunday comes, and why should I not enjoy myself?" Such is the language, or the sentiment, we have often heard from the lips of our young friends. Young people who a year or two ago were in our Sunday school, have thus apologized for a Sunday trip of pleasure, or a Sunday spent at a "tide" or "wake" in their own or a neighbouring village. Now, we are no cynics. We sympathise heartily with all the words we have just quoted. We advocate a large reduction (without Government interference) of the hours of labour in all departments; and we are sure masters of all descriptions, as well as workmen, are beginning to see their interest in shorter hours better used. And we also heartily say, "Enjoy yourself when Sunday comes."

You will reply, however, "Yet I know you mean to condemn my enjoying myself as I wish on a Sunday." I rejoin, "It will do you little good for me to condemn it. I enjoy myself on a Sunday too, but it is certainly in quite a different way. Can you condemn my way of enjoying it? Sunday school engagements, public worship, and quiet comfort at home; will you, you who once were in a Sunday school, will you condemn these Sunday enjoyments? You cannot, and I think you do not wish; and you know too that it is enjoyment, and that afterwards I enjoy the thought of having done it, as well as enjoy it at the time. This cannot be said for enjoyments like yours, the pleasure is all gone when they themselves are gone. Afterwards too frequently, you return jaded with mirth and revelry, exhausted by indulgence, yes, even more than you were by your daily toil when Saturday night came. Very often too you have squandered the money which you or those dependent on you needed during the following week. You have wasted in one day's dissipation, which has

injured your health, a sum of money which would have insured you a twelve months' aid in sickness, or would have relieved the distress of a parent, a brother, a sister, or a dear friend. 'Sunday joys are Monday sorrows,' said one who knew it. You know at least many who have enjoyed themselves' in this way; if you are following their steps, look fairly at the consequences, and you will condemn such enjoyment. Perhaps you have seen, as well as I, many men once plain workmen like yourselves, who are now worth their hundreds, or even their thousands; all these men have earned their position in this life by beginning with self-denial instead of self-indulgence."

There is truth in all this, you say. Well, and is there not still more important truth in what you know I have yet to say? You who learned to read the word of God in a Sunday school; you who have now I hope at home the bible you obtained there, which you enjoyed then to read on a Sunday; the hymn-books too, with the hymns you sung then with pleasure; perhaps also some other little books given by a "teacher or a superintendent" to encourage you in "choosing the good part;" you, at least, know that the Sunday enjoyment you are now choosing will assuredly cause you to mourn at the last. However much it interferes with hopes for this life, it still more interferes with hopes for the life to come; however injurious to your body, it is much more so to your soul. Think of Jesus Christ, when the Sunday came to him weary with his toil as the carpenter's son, "enjoying himself" in your way! If you cannot even imagine him looking with an approving smile on your Sunday enjoyments, then surely the case becomes a serious one indeed. You know him to be the only possible Saviour; you cannot, indeed, wish for a better; you know that he will assuredly be your Judge at last; and after having shed his blood to save you, it is but reasonable that he should summon you before his bar to know whether you have trampled under foot that precious blood, or whether faith in it has washed guilt from your conscience, and the love of sin from your heart. Yes, you know that he will one day enquire of you before the assembled world, before men and angels, Have you chosen the enjoyments to which the wicked seduce you, or those which I died to purchase for you? You know this, and you know too that on the answer must depend your everlasting condition! If you can only reply in that day, "Alas, I loved those pleasures only which I knew to be but 'for a season,' ," then your own conscience will pronounce the sentence. That "moment" will then be for ever, yes, for ever, gone, and all its pleasures with it! Young friend, you know all this; your inward misgivings tell you this; remembrances of what you once learned will tell you all this. The pleasures of sin are the sorrows of eternity. You cannot get rid of that feeling. Every place of worship you see, every person going *Heb. xi. 25.

to it, every company of Sunday school children you meet, every respected minister, every one trying to "do good on the Sabbath day," every case of sudden death you hear of, every young person you know quitting this world by that flattering death-messenger, consumption, things like these give you an uneasy feeling in the very midst of your "enjoying yourself." Is it not so? Have you never felt as Col. Gardener did, when in the height of apparent merriment, as he afterwards owned, he "wished himself the dog under the table," rather than a creature responsible to God, and "enjoying himself” as he was then doing?

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Think again then, young friend, of the words at the head of this paper. Ask, thoughtfully, not only, "Why should I not enjoy myself?" but, "How should I enjoy myself?" Reason, conscience, nay, self-interest itself, will quickly answer. That blessed book you learned to read at the Sunday school, that will answer too. It will say, "Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat." "Woe unto you that laugh now.' "How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation ?" "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." "If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell." Thus spoke the blessed Jesus of yielding to the seductions of such enjoyments as you now plead for. Young friend, hear His words, think of them; yes, think, think honestly, think once and again; there is power in His words, they are Spirit and Life. They soon bring those who ponder them to wonder they could ever think any enjoyment better than his service here, and heaven with him hereafter.

WHAT WILL YOU DO?

You have a body and a soul; the body will soon return to its earth, and the spirit unto God who gave it. Both require attention, but the soul should have the chief. What will you do as to the body? Will you pamper it? Feed and inflame its lusts, feast and gratify its depraved inclinations? Shall it have your first and best thoughts? Will you live for it, labour for it, and make the soul its drudge? This is what many do. But how will such conduct appear when God requires the soul? How can it be justified? How can it be excused? The body ought to be valued as God's workmanship, and to be taken care of as the soul's temporary abode, but it ought not to engage our principal attention. It will soon be smitten with disease, it will give us pain and trouble, and then will become useless, until renovated and purified at the resurrection. It is a beautiful casket, but it is not to be compared to the jewel it contains. It is made of

very brittle material, and will soon be broken by the rude hand of death. Let us estimate its relative value, and treat it accordingly.

What will you do as to the soul? It is a precious jewel. It is immortal. It is capable of the highest enjoyments, or the deepest sorrows. It is sinful. It needs pardon and purification. Both may be obtained, but they should be sought. You cannot be really happy for one moment without them. God only can bestow them. It cost the Lord Jesus his blood to procure them. You must perish eternally without them. You ought to set your heart upon them. You ought not to rest satisfied one hour without them. If you do, in that hour death may deprive you of the opportunity of obtaining them. What will you do? Will you delay? Will you trifle ? Will you neglect to secure the great salvation? Will you despise everlasting happiness ? Will you dare divine justice? Will you defy omnipotent power? Will you make up your mind to brave the tremendous wrath of the Eternal? This would be worse than any thing the devil ever did. What will you do? Do think of your state, look at your danger, determine to seek salvation, and delay not one hour. Seek pardon in the name of Jesus. Seek sanctification by the Holy Spirit. Make up your mind never to rest until you obtain the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of your sins. Go at once to God, plead the name of Jesus, stay yourself upon his promise, and wrestle in earnest prayer until he say to you, "Thy sins are forgiven thee, go in peace." The door of mercy is open, and any sinner may The throne of grace is near, and any sinner may approach it. The blood of Jesus is efficacious, and any sinner may prove it. The name of Jesus is a powerful plea, and any sinner may use it. Can there be any reason then to ask, "What will you do?" Surely you I will seek and obtain salvation by the merits of the Lamb. But if you despise or neglect God's mercy, I testify unto you that you shall certainly and justly perish.

enter.

"What will you do? hear Jesus call,

He welcomes to his throne;

Before his gracious footstool fall,
And trust in him alone.

"What will you do when death appears

And calls your soul away?

To Jesus look, he will your fears
And gloomy doubts allay.

"What will do in that dread day

When you must pass the test?
Expect he will his grace display,
And on his merits rest.

"What will you do in worlds above,

When time shall be no more?

Triumph in God's eternal love,
And Jesus still adore."
New-Park-Street, London.

JAMES SMITH.

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