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corpse-like whiteness of his skin gave unmistakable evidence that he had once been a leper."

THE INDIAN PREACHER.

"Thou shalt find it after many days." IN former times one of the preachers of the Mohegan Indians, situated on the Thames, between Norwich and New London, America, was preaching on the language of Solomon, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days," Eccles. xi. 1. To illustrate his subject, and enforce the duty of benevolence, he related a circumstance connected with his early days, as follows:-A certain man was going from Norwich to New London with a loaded team; on attempting to ascend the hill

where Indian lives, he found his team could not draw his load; he came to Indian and got him to help him up with his oxen. After he had got up, he asked Indian what there was to pay. Indian told him to do as much for somebody else. Some time afterwards, Indian wanted a canoe: he went up Shetucket river, found a tree, and made him one. When he got it done, he could not get it to the river. Accordingly, he went to a man, and offered him all the money he had, if he would go and draw it to the river for him. The man said he would go. After getting to the river, Indian offered to pay him. "No," said the man, "don't you recollect so long ago helping a man up the hill by your house?" "Yes." "Well, I am the man; there, take your canoe and go home." So I find it after many days.

Lessons by the Way; or, Things to Think On.

THE REV. ROWLAND HILL ON THE

EFFECTS OF DRUNKENNESS.

IF you wish to be always thirsty, be a drunkard; for the oftener and more you drink, the oftener and more thirsty you will be.

If you seek to prevent your friends raising you in the world, be a drunkard; for that will defeat all their efforts.

If you would effectually counteract your own attempts to do well, be a drunkard, and you will not be disappointed.

If you wish to repel the endeavours of the whole human race to raise you to character, credit, and prosperity, be a drunkard, and you will most assuredly triumph.

If you are determined to be poor, be a drunkard, and you will soon be ragged and pennyless.

If you would wish to starve your family, be a drunkard; for that will consume the means of their support.

If you would be imposed on by knaves, be a drunkard; for that will make their task easy.

If you would wish to be robbed, be a drunkard, which will enable the thief to do it with more safety.

If you would wish to blunt your senses, be a drunkard, and you will soon be more stupid than an ass.

If you would become a fool, be a drunkard, and you will soon lose your understanding.

If you wish to unfit yourself for rational intercourse, be a drunkard; for that will render you wholly unfit for it.

If you are resolved to kill yourself, be a drunkard, that being a sure mode of destruction.

If you would expose both your folly and your secrets, be a drunkard, and they will soon run out as the liquor runs in.

If you think you are too strong, be a drunkard, and you will soon be subdued by so powerful an enemy.

If you would get rid of your money without knowing how, be a drunkard, and it will vanish insensibly.

If you would have no resource when past labour but a workhouse, be a drunkard, and you will be unable to provide any.

If you are determined to expel all comfort from your house, be a drunkard, and you will soon do it effectually.

If you would be always under strong suspicion, be a drunkard; for, little as you think it, all agree that those who steal from themselves and families will rob others.

If you would be reduced to the necessity of shunning your creditors, be a drunkard, and you will soon have reason to prefer the bypaths to the public streets.

If you would be a dead weight on the community and "cumber the ground," be a drunkard; for that will render you useless, helpless, burdensome, and expensive.

If you would be a nuisance, be a drunkard; for the approach of a drunkard is like that of a dunghill.

If you would be hated by your family and friends, be a drunkard, and you will soon be more than disagreeable.

If you would be a pest to society, be a drunkard, and you will be avoided as infectious.

If you do not wish to have your faults reformed, continue to be a drunkard, and you will not care for good advice.

If you would smash windows, break the peace, get your bones broken, tumble under carts and horses, and be locked up in watchhouses, be a drunkard, and it will be strange if you do not succeed.

If you wish all your prospects in life to be clouded, be a drunkard, and they will soon be dark enough.

If you would destroy your body, be a drunkard, as drunkenness is the mother of disease.

If you mean to ruin your soul, be a drunkard, that you may be excluded from heaven.

Finally, if you are determined to be utterly destroyed, in estate, body, and soul, be a drunkard, and you will soon know that it is impossible to adopt a more effectual means to accomplish your-END!

COWPER'S CONVERSION.

At the age of thirty-two, Cowper's ideas of religion were changed from the gloom of terror and despair to the brightness of inward joy and

peace. This juster and happier view of evangelical truth is said to have arisen in his mind while he was reading the third chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. The words that rivetted his attention were the following: "Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God," Rom. iii. 25. It was to this passage, which contains so lucid an exposition of the Gospel method of salvation, that, under the Divine blessing, the poet owed the recovery of a previously disordered intellect, and the removal of a load from a deeply-oppressed conscience; he saw by a new and powerful perception how sin could be pardoned and the sinner saved-that the way appointed of God was through the great propitiation and sacrifice upon the cross-that faith lays hold of the promise, and thus becomes the instrument of conveying pardon and peace to the soul."-Grimshaw's Life of Cowper.

ANECDOTE OF BISHOP DAVENANT.

This learned and excellent prelate being once summoned to attend the king (James I.) at Newmarket, refused to travel on the Lord's-day; and, upon arriving a day later than required, he assigned the simple cause; and James, much to his credit, gave him a cordial welcome, not only accepting his excuse, but "commending his seasonable forbearance."- (Memoir of Bishop Davenant.) A noble example to all who serve either sovereign kings or sovereign people. Their acceptance with neither of these can ultimately be damaged by their unswerving loyalty and obedience to the King of kings.

GOOD ADVICE TO EMIGRANTS.

A young Irishman called upon me, who came to Van Diemen's Land a few months ago, with a small sum of money, and soon after his arrival got into a situation; but giving way to dissipated habits, and making a mock, as he said, of temperance, he found many of his own stamp who were willing to seek his friendship while his money lasted. This was not long; and as he soon incapacitated himself by intemperance, he lost his situation. When his money was gone, his friends were gone also; and some that he had helped were unwilling to help him in return, and he was at his wit's end to know what to do. Many young men who come out with fair prospects, ruin themselves in this way, and then find fault with the colony. Without persons have capital, and conduct to take care of it, they should not emigrate to the Australian Colonies.--Backhouse's Australian Colonies.

PRYING.

Don't pry into the secret affairs of others. It is none of your business how your neighbour gets along, and what his income and expectations may be, unless his arrangements affect you. What right have you to say a word, and protrude your advice? It is no mark of good advice, good breeding, or good manners, to pry into the affairs of others. Remember this.

KNOWLEDGE.

Knowledge is not a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect; or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon; or a fort

or commanding ground for strife and contention; or a shop for profit or sale; but a rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator, and the relief of man's estate.-Lord Bacon.

THE THRONE OF GRACE.

If you are a Christian, the throne of grace is yours. Your Father is seated on it. Your Saviour has sprinkled it with his own blood. The Holy Spirit draws you secretly to kneel before it; and the promise, when there, is, " Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it."-Newton.

HOW TO AVOID ANXIETY.

Payson, on his dying bed, said to his daughter "You will avoid much pain and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all your concerns in God's hands. 'Cast all your cares on him, for he careth for you.' But if you merely go, and say that you cast your care upon him, you will come away with the load on your shoulders."

PATRICK HENRY'S LEGACY.

The following is the closing paragraph of the will of Patrick Henry: "I have now disposed of all my property to my family; there is one thing more I wish I could give them, and that is, THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. If they had this, and I had not given them one shilling, they would be rich; and if they had not that, and I had given them all the world, they would be poor."

THE CLOWN AND THE SUN-DIAL.

A lazy clown, going to a sun-dial, to see if it was not yet the point of time when he might regale and be idle, expressed himself very irreverently when he found it was not yet the hour he wished for. "Suppress your foolish impatience," said the sun-dial, "and recollect with awe that this moment, pointed out by my shadow, and which you survey with indecent scorn, is the last to many, and doubtful to all."

Moral. This fable has its moral in itself; but we may add, that the careless indifference with which we often treat the passing time, seems as if we thought it would have no end, or was of no value, never dreaming that each moment may be cur last, nor recollecting the slight tenure on which we hold our existence, although daily instances before our eyes prove it, and show us the necessity of being always prepared as well to our affairs in this world as in the next, so that we may be enabled to quit this life with due resignation to the will of our Creator.

BENEVOLENCE REWARDED.

A poor woman said, as the missionary meeting in her village drew on, that she was concerned lest her missionary box might not be worth presenting. She had five shillings to purchase her a pair of shoes, which she much needed, but resolved to put it into the box. As her shoes would not keep out the wet, while drying her toes by the fire, some of her family would remind her of what they called her "imprudent charity." In a short time a friend at a distance sent her a box of clothes, and some money also, which she took as from the hand of God, and gave him the glory of his bounty and goodness. Rev. R. Tabraham.

"A MEEK AND QUIET SPIRIT." This is the adorning recommended to females by the Scriptures. The world urges upon them its fashions and its gewgaws, and many yield to

the snare which is so artfully adapted to please their fancy and flatter their imagination. Young persons will require grace to enable them to avoid the common error in respect to a love for outward adorning. But they must reflect often

and seriously, that while costly dress and ornamental display will not raise them in the estimation of the wise, the virtuous, and the good, yet that a meek and quiet spirit is in the sight of God of GREAT PRICE.

Biography.

EARLY LIFE OF CALVIN.

BY HIMSELF.

WHEN I was as yet a very little boy, my father had destined me for the study of theology. But afterwards, when he considered that the legal profession commonly raised those who followed it to wealth, this prospect induced him suddenly to change his purpose. Thus it came to pass, that I was withdrawn from the study of philosophy, and was put to the study of the law. To this pursuit, I endeavoured faithfully to apply myself, in obedience to the will of my father; but God, by the secret guidance of his Providence, at length gave a different direction to my course.

And first, since I was too obstinately devoted to the superstitions of Popery to be easily extricated from so profound an abyss of mire, God by a sudden conversion subdued and brought my mind to a teachable frame, which was more hardened in such matters than might have been expected from one at my early period of life. Having thus received some taste and knowledge of true godliness, I was immediately inflamed with so intense a desire to make progress therein, that though I did not altogether leave off other studies, I yet pursued them with less ardour.

I was quite surprised to find, that before a year had elapsed, all who had any desire after purer doctrines, were continually coming to me to learn; although I myself was as yet but a mere novice and tyro. Being of a disposition somewhat unpolished and bashful, which led me always to love the shade and retirement, I then began to seek some secluded conner, where I might be withdrawn from the public view; but so far from being able to accomplish the object of my desire, all my retreats were like public schools; in short, whilst one great object was to live in seclusion, without being known, God so led me about, through different turnings and changes, that he never permitted me to rest in any place; until in spite of my natural

disposition, he brought me forth to public notice. Leaving my native country, France, I in fact retired into Germany, expressly for the purpose of being able there to enjoy, in some obscure corner, the repose which had been so long denied me. But lo! while I lay hidden at Basle, and known only to a few people, many faithful and holy persons were burnt alive in France; and the report of these burnings having reached foreign nations, they excited the strongest disapprobation among a great part of the Germans, whose indignation was kindled against the authors of such tyranny. In order to allay this indignation, certain wicked and lying pamphlets were circulated, stating that none were treated with such cruelty, but Anabaptist, and seditious persons who, by their perverse railings, and false opinions, were overthrowing not only religion but also all civil order. Observing that the object which these instruments of the court aimed at by their disguises, was not only that the disgrace of shedding so much innocent blood might remain buried under the false charges and calumnies which they brought against the holy martyrs after their death, but also that afterwards they might be able to proceed to the utmost extremity in murdering the poor saints, without exciting compassion towards them in the breasts of any-it appeared to me, that unless I opposed them to the utmost of my ability, my silence could not be vindicated from the charge of cowardice and treachery.

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passion towards them and solicitude about them. As it was then published, it was not that copious and laboured work which it now is, but only a small treatise, containing a summary of the principal truths of the Christian religion; and it was published with no other view than that men might know what was the faith held by those whom I saw basely and wickedly defamed by those flagitious and perfidious flatterers. That my object was not to acquire fame, is evident from this, that immediately after I left Basle, and particularly from the fact that nobody there knew that I was the author.

Wherever else I have gone, I have taken care to conceal that I was the author of that performance; and I had resolved to continue in privacy and obscurity; until at length, William Farel detained me at Geneva, not so much by counsel and exhortation, as by a dreadful imprecation, which I felt to be as if God had from heaven laid his mighty hand upon me to arrest me.

As the

most direct road to Strasburg, to which I then intended to retire, was shut up by the wars, I had resolved to pass quickly by Geneva, without staying longer than a single night in that city. A little before this, Popery had been driven from it, by the exertions of that excellent person whom I have named, and Peter Viret. But matters were not yet brought to a settled state, and the city was divided into unholy and dangerous factions. There an individual who basely apostatized and returned to the Papists, discovered me and made me known to others. Upon this, Farel, who burned with a strong zeal to advance the Gospel, immediately strained every nerve to detain me. And after having learned that my heart was set upon devoting myself to private studies, for which I wished to keep myself free from other pursuits, and finding that he gained nothing by entreaties, he proceeded to utter an imprecation that God would curse my retirement and the tranquillity of the studies which I sought, if I should refuse to give assistance, when the necessity was so urgent. By this imprecation I was so stricken with terror, that I desisted from the journey which I had undertaken. But sensible of my natural bashfulness and timidity, I would not bring myself under obligation to discharge any particular office. After that, four months had scarcely elapsed, when on the one hand the Anabaptists began to assail us, and on the other, a certain

wicked apostate who, being secretly supported by the influence of some of the magistrates of the city, was thus enabled to give us a great deal of trouble. At the same time, a succession of dissensions fell out in the city, which strangely afflicted us. Being, as I acknowledged, naturally of a timid, soft, pusillanimous disposition, I was compelled to encounter these violent tempests as part of my early training. And although I did not sink under them, yet I was not sustained by such greatness of mind, as not to rejoice more than it became me, when in consequent of certain commotions I was banished from Geneva.

By this means set at liberty, and loosed from the tie of my vocation, I resolved to live in a private station, free from the burden and care of a public charge, when that most excellent servant of Christ, Martin Bucer, employing a similar kind of remonstrance and protestation as that to which Farel had recourse before, drew me back to a new station. Alarmed by the example of Jonas, which he set before me, I still continued in the work of teaching. And though I always continued like myself, studiously avoiding celebrity, yet I was carried, I know not how, as it were by force, to the Imperial assemblies, where willing or unwilling, I was under the necessity of appearing before the eyes of many.

Afterwards, when the Lord by his compassion on this city, had allayed the hurtful agitations and broils which prevailed in it, and by his wonderful power, had defeated both the wicked counsels and sanguinary attempts of the disturbers of the republic, the necessity was imposed on me of returning to my former charge, contrary to my desire and inclination. The welfare of this church, it is true, lay so near my heart, that for its sake ĺ would not have hesitated to lay down my life; but my timidity nevertheless suggested to me many reasons for excusing myself from again willingly taking upon my shoulders so heavy a burden. At length, however, a solemn and conscientious regard to my duty prevailed with me to consent to return to the flock from which I had been torn; but, with what grief, tears, anxiety, and distress I did this, the Lord is my best witness, and many godly persons who would have wished to see me delivered from this painful state, had it not been that that which I feared, and which made me give my consent, prevented them and shut their mouths.

Popery.

BARTHOLOMEW

Ar a time when Popery is lifting up its head in every land, and putting forth its utmost might for the recovery of its lost sovereignty,-at a time when it exhibits all the arrogance and all the ferocity of the Middle Ages,-while simple men, more especially Englishmen, are labouring hard to persuade themselves and each other that it is a new thing, a thing renovated, bland, benign, humane, and humble, it may not be amiss to fix the attention of our readers, more especially the youthful part of them, on the dreadful massacre known as that of St. Bartholomew. No new facts can or need be given of this event, which has been told a thousand times, but cannot be too often told, nor too deeply impressed upon the souls of Protestant nations.

When the sun of August 24th, 1572, rose upon Paris, all was tumult, confusion, and carnage. Torrents of blood flowed in the streets. Dead bodies of men, women, and children encumbered the doors. Everywhere cursings and blasphemies were mixed with the groans of the dying. Executioners by thousands insulted their victims before butchering them, and then loaded themselves with their spoils. The dagger, the pike, the knife, the sword, the musket, all the weapons of the soldier and the robber, were put to the service of this execrable slaughter; and the vile populace, following the butchers, were seen despatching the Huguenots, mutilating them, and dragging them in the dirt with a cord round the neck, in order to have their part in this feast of cannibals.

At the Louvre, the Huguenots, led in single file between a double line of pikes, fell beneath their wounds before reaching the end; and court-ladies, worthy to be the mothers, wives, and sisters of assassins, came to feast their eyes on the bodies of the victims.

It is observable, that of so many brave gentlemen who had a thousand times faced death on the battle-field, not one, except Taverny, tried to defend himself; and he was a lawyer. The rest made no resistance. So monstrous a crime, by overwhelming their spirits paralysed their limbs, and before they could recover themselves, they were dispatched.

Some, however, who resided on the other side of the Seine, in the suburb

VOL. VIII.

MASSACRE.

St. Germain, Montgomery, Rohan, Segur, La Ferriere, had time to understand their position and to escape. It was then that the king, intoxicated with rage, took a musket and fired upon Frenchmen. Two hundred and twenty-seven years afterwards (1799) Mirabeau brought out from the dust of ages, Charles IX.'s musket, to turn it against the throne of Louis XVI. The generations of royal races are responsible for one another's sins.

On the same Sunday morning, the king called Henry of Navarre and Henry of Condé, and said to them in a fierce tone, "The Mass! death! or the Bastile!" After some resistance, the two princes consented to profess the Romish faith; but neither the court nor the people believed in the sincerity of their abjuration.

The massacre lasted four days. Some pretext for it must be made before France and Europe. At first it was laid to the Guises, but they repelled the charge. Then, it was pretended there was a conspiracy of Huguenots against Charles IX. and his family. There were all sorts of tergiversations, stories that could not be maintained for an hour, assertions which were denied the next day, orders and counter orders to governors of provinces a wretched farce enacted after the tragedy.

On Friday, while the blood of victims inundated the streets of Paris, the clergy celebrated a special jubilee, and made a general procession. They decided even upon a yearly festival in commemoration of so glorious a victory; and while the Catholic pulpits resounded with thanksgivings, a medal was struck, with this device: "Piety awakes justice!"

The St. Bartholomew was renewed in the provinces; and lasted, horrible to say, more than six weeks.

We carefully collect the names of governors who refused to take part in the massacres: Viscount d'Orte, at Bayonne; Count de Tende, in Dauphiny; SaintHeran, in Auvergne; Chabot-Charny, and President Jeannin, at Dijon; La Guiche, at Maçon; De Rieux, at Narbonne; Matignon, at Alençon; Villars, at Nismes; Count de Carce, in Provence; and the Montmorenci, in their domains and governments.

We love especially to place upon this list the name of a priest, John Hennuyer,

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