We have here a curious, and not an incorrect specimen of the versatility of popular opinion, and the slight grounds on which it is often built. In one moment they judged Paul to be a murderer, in the next they declared him to be a god. The apostle had before this witnessed the instability of popular feeling. When he had cured a cripple at Lystra, the people were so amazed at the power he had displayed, that they actually endeavoured to pay him divine honours; yet, soon after, these same people were persuaded by some Jews to stone him, as they thought, to death.

But the observations of these barbarians are chiefly interesting as a disclosure of their religious views. They, indeed, give us no very high opinion either of their intellectual or religious attainments, and yet, through them, we can discover the glimmering of some important religious principles, obscured indeed by folly and superstition. We recognize their belief in a supreme, or, at least, a higher Power; for the vengeance, of which the viper, as they supposed, was the instrument, could be the vengeance of no being less than God. The notion of a supreme Being, either in one shape or another, may be occasionally traced amongst the most unenlightened nations. Whether the notion be innate or traditionary, its existence is equally inscrutable to the atheist. Doubtless the theology of this people would contain much error and absurdity, yet they appear to have had some idea of a superintending and retributive Providence. The unexpected attack of the snake, connected with the very recent escape of Paul from shipwreck, seemed to have struck their minds as a divine interposition. "They said among themselves, No doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he hath escaped the seas, yet vengeance suffereth hot to live." From the chain that he wore, they had before been led to believe that he was a culprit of some sort; and now, the dreadful fate to which they think him doomed, induce them to think that he was a murderer.

The conduct of man, not his condition, is the criterion of his character; yet a generation has existed, from the time of Job's friends to the present, who have permitted the latter to influence their judgment of character, rather than the former. Indeed, an instinctive propensity is found to exist in most ignorant people, to regard calamities in the light of divine judgments. This sentiment, like most other vulgar sentiments, may be traced to an important truth as its original; but while true in principle, it is

criminate application. Justly founded on an innate perception of the turpitude and demerit of vice, it is unrighteously fallacious when applied as a criterion of individual character: Paul was neither a murderer when attacked by the snake, nor a god when he escaped its virulence.

The truth of the matter is this: all suffering is to be considered as punitive, because, if sin had never been committed, pain would never have been inflicted. Particular vices, or habits of vicious conduct, by an established law, invariably draw after them particular misfortunes and miseries. Intemperance destroys health, idleness and negligence produce embarrassment and want, and crime is usually visited with disgrace, imprisonment, or death. Again, in certain rare cases, misfortunes are more signally and decisively judicial. The "vengeance" of Heaven against daring offenders or guilty nations, is too visible to be denied by any but the determined sceptic. The sturdy philosopher may laugh at this as superstition, but we are disposed to pay greater deference to the common sense of common people, when that harmonizes with the word of God, than to his refined deductions. Such instances are not so obvious or so numerous as to interfere with man's free agency, or interrupt the usual train of events; but they occur with sufficient frequency to prove that God has not abandoned his government of this rebellious province of his dominions. "Verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth.”

But while we do not wholly discard the opinion, that judgments sometimes befal the wicked in this life, yet facts oblige us to exercise that sentiment with diffidence and caution. For the slightest survey of the world will convince us, that in general

one event happeneth alike unto all;" that the righteous are no more secure from the common calamities of life than the vicious and profane. Often the "wicked are seen to be in great power, and to flourish like the green bay-tree," while many pious men are permitted to struggle in poverty and pain. The following consideration will remove all the difficulty which this apparent dereliction of justice creates.

1. External circumstances are not essential to real happiness. The essence of happiness consists in rectitude of heart and conduct, in peace of conscience, the smile of heaven, and the hope of a happy immortality. He who possesses these is happy, whatever be his lot in life; and the whole world cannot supply their absence. "A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches

of many wicked." A wicked man has a hell within him-the pains of which, riches cannot in the least mitigate. A good, man has a heaven within him, which supplies him with a lamp in the darkest providential hour, which makes him buoyant under the greatest pressure of affliction.

2. If calamities befal a good man, there is no injustice done him. Comparatively, he may less deserve to suffer than some others. But he is not innocent: he has committed sins which, if they had been visited with due punishment, would have consigned him to perdition. Why then should a living man complain-a man for the punishment of his sins? A pious person will always be disposed to say, under the most grievous sufferings, "God exacteth of me less than my iniquity deserveth." "It is of the Lord's mercies that I am not consumed."

3. The afflictions of good men, although they are to be regarded as general expressions of divine indignation against sin, yet are graciously overruled for salutary purposes; they are employed as instruments of discipline and correction, and in this view, while they are of the highest value to the christian, they bespeak the most fatherly kindness on the part of God: " For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth, even as a father the son in whom he delighteth."

4. Lastly, it is ever to be considered, that the present world is only an introductory scene, a state of trial, not of perfect enjoyment or misery. The wheat and tares are suffered to grow together; both enjoy the same sun, and are exposed to the same blasts. But the day of final discrimination, decision, and retribution is approaching, in which all present irregularities will be ad. justed: "Every work will be brought into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or bad," and then "will every man be rewarded according to his works." W. ROBINSON.

NATURE AND EFFECTS OF IDLENESS.

EXERCISE, appropriate and becoming exercise, essentially promotes the improvement of the mind, and the health of the body; whilst sloth, on the contrary, diseases the one, and incapacitates the other for any noble or vigorous effort. There is undoubtedly a difference among mankind with respect to natural abilities; but the distinction is by no means originally so great as it is afterwards made, by diligence and perseverance on the one hand, and sloth and inactivity on the other. Men, with

what the world calls moderate abilities, rise considerably higher in the scale of intelligence and usefulness, by a careful cultivation of their talents, than by the brightest genius united to a sluggish habit. Sloth paralyzes the most powerful mind, and brings it to a level with the meanest capacity. But for sloth, thousands who have in all ages sunk into merited obscurity, might have arrived at the highest distinctions in life; whilst many, with a happier temperament of mind, but with less abilities, have in every age become useful and honourable members of society.

Natural talents should be considered as the gift of God-a gift for the employment of which all men are responsible; and hence, whether a man possesses one, five, or ten talents, he should employ them to the honour and glory of God, and for the benefit of his generation, assured that, when his Lord cometh, if he have not multiplied them, "if he have laid them up in a napkin," if he have employed them to disadvantage, the consequences will be dreadful, and his doom irrevocable. What a stimulus does this view of the subject give to the proper exercise of the bounteous and beneficent gifts of Heaven! In despite however of these considerations, or rather in despite of this fact, what vast multitudes continually indulge in idleness, and, by consequence, come under the denomination of those who misemploy and abuse their talents!

Habitual idleness undermines every virtue. It is the parent of the grossest vices to which human nature is subject. The mind of the indolent is unoccupied to any purpose, and, therefore, vice finds an easy ingress. Idle habits and vicious dispositions are intimately united. The evil passions which are nourished and augmented by sloth, rapidly overrun the mind, and hold it in continual thraldom. They gain a fearful ascendancy over the whole man, and, if unrestrained by divine grace, consequent on a change of conduct, will soon bring their unhappy victim into the vortex of misery and despair.

It is natural for all men to desire good, to wish for an easy and comfortable station in society, or to become distinguished in the world. The diligent and upright man may obtain these objects by legitimate means. But what chance has the sluggard to realize his desires herein! He either pursues gross and criminal pleasures till poverty overtakes him, with all its concomitant ills, or till he is prematurely cut off, and hurried unpre pared into the presence of a justly offended God; or else, if he can exert so much vigour, he attempts so retrieve his ruined circum

stances by violent and dishonest meansby public robbery or private theft.

Idleness, long and recklessly indulged in, either leads to the gallows, or brings a man to hopeless penury and a miserable death. If we see a man totally given up to sloth, we are sure to find in him loose thoughts and unhallowed desires. His mind becomes corrupt. He is not only a useless, but a dangerous member of society. And how can the contrary be expected? The mind, from its very nature must be employed, either well or ill, either idly or laudably. If the body be not employed; if the mind be not engaged in some laudable or lawful pursuit- the man who so misemploys his powers, mental or bodily, will surely be highly obnoxious to the Author of every good and perfect gift, and prove himself a nuisance, a very pest to that order of the social compact, to uphold and strengthen which, it is the bounden duty of every one to give his best assistance.

If we do not introduce order into our affairs, if we have not stated times for the performance of the several duties of life, if we give way to corrupting amusements, and suffer them to encroach upon the hours of study and of labour-we shall soon have bitterly to lament our inconsiderate and criminal conduct. Idleness is an insidious enemy. Thousands have been ruined by it, and thousands are daily placed in the greatest jeopardy by suffering themselves to be led into the snare. The poor immediately taste its bitter fruits, by being exposed to the miseries of want and starvation, and at such junctures have often arisen, in their breasts, those unjust thoughts, those dishonest resolutions, which are sure ultimately to terminate in ignominy and ruin. But it is not to the poor alone that idleness is dangerous. What station soever a man may hold in society, how elevated soever his rank may be, he should find proper employment for his mind, else he may rest assured, it will soon be filled with ideas the reverse of order and regularity-ideas which will disturb his peace of mind, and control his future actions.

Great numbers are perpetually occupied in searching after amusements. They choose companions of like dispositions, whose minds are equally dissipated with their own, and unite with them in one continued round of pernicious pleasures. Such characters are often seemingly busy in the accomplishment of their ends; but their objects, which are of the worst possible description, are connected with idleness of the most dangerous tendency-idleness too inveterate to be easily eradicated. The minds, moreover,

of such are frivolous in the extreme: a little elevates, and a little depresses them. They have discarded virtue, the sustainer of the human mind under trials and disappointments, and its best guide amidst the animating but dangerous smiles of fortune. The recollection of the past brings nothing to console, but much to harass and perplex them; and the future seems only to add fresh opportunities for an eager pursuit of vain and empty pleasures.

The idle are invariably selfish. They live in the world without being of any advantage to it; the interests of their fellowcreatures around them they never consult; and even their own eternal interests are too much out of the question: their main object seems to be the gratification of their desires, and the enjoyment of as much ease, or of as uninterrupted a succession of pleasures, as can be obtained.

Society is connected by different links; and as a chain is injured or rendered useless by even one broken link, so every unworthy member of society is injurious to the body politic. It is useless to say that an idle man only injures himself or his family. There is no man so low but that he may have imitators; and he that sets a pernicious example, and does not add his mite to the public weal, may well be denominated an enemy to his species, to himself, and to his God.

From the king upon the throne down to the meanest of his subjects-all are the several links of one common chain, and responsible for the manner in which they perform their several duties. They are mutually dependent on each other. It is the industry of a nation that adds splendour, dignity, and stability to the throne. It is a wise, well-ordered, and unanimous government that purchases peace and tranquillity to a nation, protects its civil and religious liberties, and gives to civilized life its greatest charms, and its most valuable benefits. All may be well employed in their several spheres. By these means, and by no other, can rulers and subjects unitedly purchase, what cannot be individually or separately purchased, becoming dignity and splendour on the one hand, and on the other the blessings of good and righteous government. Kings and governments, to be good, must not be idle, must not revel in luxury and ignoble ease. Indeed, no stations are mentally so arduous as those of good kings and their responsible servants.

It is the especial duty of subjects, in return for the enjoyment of social happiness, religious privileges, personal security, and the protection of their property, to attend actively

to their several duties, and to uphold the government under which they live, and by which they prosper. Industry is necessary to the independence, the safety, yea, the very existence of governments: and when it is considered, and nothing can be more plain, that the aggregate industry of a community is composed of individual interests and individual exertions, we shall immediately see the criminality of those who are not only useless, but injurious members of society.

The higher and the lower ranks have their respective claims upon each other. Neither can do without the other. Money, the circulating medium, and the representative of property, can purchase for the rich all the comforts, and even the superfluities of life, without any labour of their own; but then, is it not the united labour of their inferiors in rank, that supplies them with the means of enjoying the advantages of a superior fortune? The hand of industry, on the contrary, is invigorated, and the heart made glad, by an adequate remuneration, with which the necessaries of life may be supplied, and perhaps many of its comforts enjoyed.

But, though the rich seem to be above want, owing to their having the means of obtaining what they desire, yet this consideration should not lead them to indulge in slothful habits, nor to pamper themselves with the good things of this life. Wealth, well employed, is a great blessing, but, if not, it will prove to its possessor the direst curse. The man who pursues his lawful avocations with industry and success, will feel that calm complacency, that inward satisfaction, to which the wealthy, who make a bad use of their riches, are utter strangers.

The satisfaction, however, to be derived from a proper distribution of wealth is very great. To make the widow's heart to leap for joy, to console the fatherless, to assist the needy, to search out with diligence the abodes of penury, disease, and pain, and to administer spiritual and temporal relief to their wretched inmates, are some of the privileges attached to wealth. Happy, thrice happy, that man, who considers himself but the steward of what he possesses, and who, consequently, instead of pining away unemployed hours, or smarting under the consciousness of having employed them ill, divides his time between the cultivation of his mind in his study, and the careful performance of the active Christian duties of benevolence and beneficence in the world. Truly such a man may be pronounced blessed.

Idleness is so inimical to the well-being of society, that no man, be his station what

it may, who does not exert himself, in his proper sphere, to advance the interests and secure the comfort of his fellow-creatures, ought to be looked upon in any other light than as an enemy to his species, and treated accordingly. If any will not work, says St. Paul, neither should he eat.

If man will do nothing towards the maintenance of social order and happiness, he ought not to enjoy the blessings derivable therefrom. Those little busy insects, bees, "which gather honey from every opening flower," and destroy the drones which will not co-operate with them in their daily labour, might teach an instructive lesson to the drones in human society, and humble them in their own estimation, were they but to give themselves to reflection, and lay their minds open to conviction. There are characters, however, whose sluggish and pernicious conduct, example, as well as precept, fails to correct and amend. Such, no motive can arouse from their inactivity and sloth, and, therefore, they deserve nothing better than proscription from the benefits and pleasures of that society, whose true interests they rather retard than promote.

In youth, the mind is most susceptible of impressions; and it often happens that the impressions then formed remain with a man through life. If in youth, therefore, the mind be suffered to lie dormant through a predilection for ignoble ease, or a desire to gratify a slothful disposition, there can be but slender hopes that the man who has thus spent his early years, will, in future life, be a serviceable, much less a distinguished, member of society.

Nothing can have a greater tendency to corrupt the mind than idleness. It is the source of almost every other vice, of vices the most odious and ruinous, vices that lead directly to the gallows. The man who has once given way to it, lays his mind open to the reception of the worst of feelings. He entertains thoughts which could never be cherished, and projects designs which could never be formed, by a mind constituted as it ought to be-a mind invigorated by bodily exercise, and bent upon the vigorous exertion of all its powers. Thus, the corruption which begins in youth, retains its influence, and dishonours age.

The idle young man finds, when he arrives at manhood, time to hang heavily upon his hands. The mind, which should then be full of energy, is in him inert. His innate love of ease reigns predominant over every other feeling, and makes him indisposed to form designs capable of stimulating him to a diligent exercise of his mental

the sternest necessity is not able to reconcile him. Thus the sluggard passes his days useless to the world, and unhappily to him. self. Should such a man reach the utmost verge of life, his grey hairs cannot be looked upon as a crown of glory, but only as the testimony of a long and useless career: his offspring, if he have any, cannot behold their aged sire with that unmixed reverence and affection, which, under ordinary circum. stances, would, in the eye of the world, and in their own breasts, be considered a most sacred and imperative duty; nor can the world at large look upon him in any other light than as an incumbrance to, and a dead weight on, society.

But though idleness in secular matters is bad enough, so bad that every effort should be made to root it out of the mind, yet, when we take a higher view, and survey it in relation to our spiritual interests, surely we shall see plainly its pernicious and destructive tendency. No idle man can be a true Christian. It is possible, indeed, for a man to be diligent in his secular pursuits, without having a proper sense of his religious duties. A variety of motives may urge a man to exertion, all of which may be incompatible with the doctrines and precepts of the gospel; such as an eager desire to amass wealth, an inordinate ambition to rise to an elevated station in society, for the sake of obtaining the praise and flattery of the world, and an innate love of sway. Such motives as these, I repeat, may urge a man to diligence, who has no just knowledge of his moral and religious duties. But no man can practise his religious duties aright, who at the same time neglects the duties which his station imposes upon him.

The sacred scriptures, which command us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling, instruct us likewise to attend to our several duties in life, and to fill our respective stations with credit and advantage. The good man has a proper sense of the value of time; and this sense of its importance, and the reflection that one moment lost is lost for ever, enables him, through divine assistance, whatever inclination he may have formerly felt to idleness, to keep to the post of duty, and to attend sedulously to the duties of his calling, as consequent on, and subordinate to, Christian faith and practice.

I OUGHT sooner to have acknowledged to you the great pleasure I derived from the performance you were so kind as to give me at Northampton. I have read it with as much attention as I am able; and though the subject is involved in so much difficulty, I admired the perspicuity with which it was treated, so as to be within the limits of an ordinary capacity. There is a precision and comprehension in the choice of terms, and a luminous track of thought pervading the whole, which, according to my apprehension, has scarcely been equalled, and never exceeded, in the discussion of such points. I do think you have steered a happy medium between the rigidity of Calvinism and the laxness of Arminianism, and have succeeded in the solution of the grand difficulty-the consistency betwixt general offers and invitations, and the speciality of divine grace. This interesting question is handled with masterly ability. I am particularly delighted with your explicit statement, and vindication, of the established connexion between the use of instituted means, and the attainment of divine blessings, and the consequent hypothetical possibility of the salvation of all men, where the gospel comes. On this point, the representation of Calvinists has long appeared to me very defective; and that, fettered by their system, they have by no means gone so far in encouraging and urging sinners to the use of prayer, reading the scriptures, self-examination, &c. as the scriptures justify. They have contented themselves too much with enjoining and inculcating the duty of faith, which, however important and indispensable, is not, I apprehend, usually imparted, till men have been earnestly led to seek and to strive. Here the Arminians, such of them as are evangelical, have had greatly the advantage of the Calvinists, in pleading with sinners. Your great principle of the design of religion, in every dispensation of it, being intended as a pursuit of the plan of divine government for exercising the moral powers and faculties of creatures, is good and noble, and gives continuity and harmony to the whole scheme. I lent your book to B, commonly called 'Squire B, who is much pleased with it, and only wishes you had expressed yourself more fully in favour of