These men through life, professed sentiments ve y dif1erent from each other; and at the awful hour of dissolution, their feelings were indeed very opposite. They were both snatched away in the prime of life, one being twentyfour, and the other twenty-seven years old. A long and disinterested friendship with the former, induced him to request my attendance professionally; but all humar skill was vain the cold hand of death had seized him. Never in my life did I see the cheering effects of a religious life, more strongly exemplified than on this occasion. His wife, his mother, and his five sisters, with myself were present. Observing his female relations in tears, he requested them to come near, and, after a little pause, a-ldressed them in nearly the following words:

"Beloved friends, I perceive with regret the anguish of your souls; I say regret, because I had promised myself nothing but tranquility and happiness, while the partition is breaking down that separates me from my God. I am entering on my last journey, which, so far from being terrible, is inviting and delightful." A paroxysm of pain here interrupted the interesting account, and for a minute he lay apparently insensible; but opening his eyes again, with a placid smile, he said, "I feel the infirmities of nature, but my sense of pain is lost, in my ardent hope of salvation. I have heartily repented of all my sins, and firmly believe, through the mercies of my God, and the redeeming merits of my blessed Savior, that I shall in a few minutes, be numbered with the chosen of God my wife! my mother! my beloved sisters! I beseech vou not to mourn my departure. I feel happiness unspeal able opening on my soul, as it bursts from this wretched nement." Then grasping my hand, he faintly exclaimed, "Ah, my friend! virtue is its own reward. See the effect of a religious life, and the blessed composure of a dying christian!" He continued, "My lamp is nearly out; but blessed be God, I feel that it has not burned in vain. Lord God! forgive my impatience: I am ready to obey the call, and anxious to receive thy promised rest." Here his voice failed,-his tongue faltered,-and his spirit took its flight to the bosom of its Father in heaven.

The picture of my other unhappy friend was just the reverse of the above. He had indulged freely in all the

fashionable gayeties of the world; and if ever a serious or useful thought obtruded on his disordered fancy, it was immediately stifled by some idle debauchery.

In this mad career he quaffed away life to the dregs, and, before he arrived at the meridian of manhood, he was verging just to the brink of eternity. A bacchanalian surfeit in a distant country brought on a fever, which threatened a speedy dissolution of life; and in this state I saw him for the first time for several years, and I am certain, I shall never forget the painful feelings I endured, throughout this melancholy interview. It is absolutely impossible to give even a faint idea of the horror, the agony, the heart-rending terror, that harrowed up his soul, whenever the thought of death flashed across his mind. He received me with frenzied ardor, in which hope and fear were strongly depicted. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "you have come too late, for I am lost,-every way lost." I immediately perceived that life was ebbing fast; and being convinced that nothing short of divine interposition could retard his fate, I endeavored to console him, by drawing his attention to the mercies of God, and the saving mediation of a gracious Redeemer; to which he replied with asperity and violence, "If you have any friendship left for a degraded, self-polluted wretch, torture not his last moments. My life has been spent in iniquity,-foolishly spent, because it never yielded one hour of solid happiness. I have lived without thinking of God, and why should he now think of me, unless it be to judge me,—to damn me? O God! I shall go distracted!" A fainting fit intervened, and fortunately broke this mournful chain of reflections: but alas, sensibility too soon returned, and with it fresh trains of gloomy despondency. He stared wildly, and roared out, "I have broken from him, but he is coming again,-there-there,-death!-O, save me! save me!" After nearly an hour passed in this dreadful state, he again became capable of reflecting; but every moment added to his dejection. "I have been so bad," ne exclaimed, "that God can never forgive me. I have blasphemed and dishonored his holy name a hundred times, when my heart inwardly smote me. I have ridiculed and denied his existence, that my companions in error might think well of me: but I never was sincere in

my wickedness." His mind became so agitated, that all reasoning was lost; he was unable to repent; and the thought of death rent his very soul. In this perturbea state he languished for about four hours, from the time of my first seeing him; till, at length, overwhelmed by despair, a paroxysm of fever closed the tragic scene. The last words he uttered, that I could distinctly hear, were, "God will not, cannot forgive"-the remainder was lost in a murmuring groan.

Friends, could I convey to you any idea of the awful feelings, which the wretched death of this wretched man produced on my mind, it would, I think, deter the most thoughtless of you from those practices, which ruin both soul and body. Would to God that you had been present! My description may not penetrate beyond the ear: but had you witnessed the dreadful original, it would have pierced your very hearts.

Worth of an Hour.

"HAVING Some business," says Mr. Cecil, "to transact with a gentleman in the city, I called one day at his counting-house; he begged I would call again, as I had so much more time to spend than he had, who was a man of business," an hour is nothing to you!" said he. "You scem little to understand the nature of our profession. One hour of a clergyman's time rightly employed, sir, is worth more to him than all the gains of your merchandise."

Do you say grace, Nanny?

"I CAME from my last voyage before Christmas," ays a sailor," and hastened home. Being late when I arrived, I had not the opportunity of seeing my eldest girl, until the following day. At dinner time, when we had sat down, I began to eat what was before me, without ever thinking of my heavenly Father, that provided my daily bread; but glancing my eye towards this girl, of whom 1 was dotingly fond, I observed her looking at me wih as

tonishment. After a moment's pause she asked me, in a solemn and serious manner, Father do you never ask a blessing before eating?'

"Her mother observed me looking hard at her, and hol ing my knife and fork motionless-it was not anger,—it was a rush of conviction, which struck me like lightning -and apprehending some reproof from me, and wishing to pass it by in a trifling way, she said-'Do you say grace, Nanny? My eyes were still riveted upon the child, for I felt conscious I had never instructed her to pray, nor even set an example, by praying with my family at home. The child, seeing me waiting for her to begin, put her hands together, and lifting up her eyes to heaven, breathed the sweetest prayer I ever heard. This was too much for me; the knife and fork dropped from my hands, and I gave vent to my feelings in tears." It appears that through the instrumentality of this child, not more than six years of age, who had attended a Sabbath School, together with his subsequent attendance on the public worship of God, he was led to saving views of di vine truth.

The Theatre.

Is it not too manifest to be denied, that piety as instinctively shrinks from the theatre, as human life does fro the point of a sword, or the draught of poison? Have not all those who have professed the more elevated piety and morality, borne an unvarying and uniform testimony against the stage? Even the more virtuous pagans condemned this amusement as injurions to morals and the interest of nations. Plato, Livy, Xenophon, Cicero, Solon, Cato, Seneca, Tacitus, the most venerable men of antiquity; the brightest constellation of virtue and talents, which ever appeared upon the hemisphere of philosophy, have all denounced the theatre, as a most abundant source of moral pollution, and assure us that both Greece and Rome had their ruin accelerated by a fatal passion for these corrupting entertainments. William Prynne, a satirical and pungent writer, who suffered many cruelties for his admirable productions in the time of Charles I.,

has made a catalogue of authorities against the stage, which contains every name of eminence in the heathen and christian worlds: it comprehends the united testimo ny of the Jewish and christian churches: the deliberate acts of fifty-four ancient and modern, general, national, provincial councils and synods, both of the western and eastern churches; the condemnatory sentence of seventyone ancient fathers, and one hundred and fifty modern, Popish and Protestant authors; the hostile endeavors of philosophy and even poets; with the legislative enactments of a great number of pagan and christian states, nations, magistrates, emperors and princes.

Mr. Whitfield and Mr. Tennent.

WHEN Mr. Whitfield was last in America, Mr. Tennent made him a visit, as he was passing through New Jersey; and one day dined with other ministers at a gentleman's house. After dinner, Mr. W. adverted to the difficulties attending the gospel ministry; lamented that all their zeal availed but little; said that he was weary with the burdens of the day; declared the great consolation that in a short time his work would be done, when he should depart and be with Christ; he then appealed to the ministers if it was not their great comfort that they should go to rest. They generally assented, except Mr. T. who sat next to Mr. W. in silence, and by his countenance discovered but little pleasure in the conversation on which Mr. W. tapping him on the knee, said, "Well, brother Tennent, you are the oldest man among us, do you not rejoice to think that your time is so near at hand, when you shall be called home?" Mr. T. bluntly answered, "I have no wish about it." Mr. W. pressed him again; Mr. T. again answered, "No, sir, it is no pleasure to me at all; and if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death, my business is to live as long as I can-as well as I can-and serve my master as faithfully as I can, until he shall think proper to call me home." Mr. W. still urged for an explicit answer to his question, in case the time of death were left to his own choice. Mr.