served at an early hour, that their second attendance on divine service, may not be interrupted. During the meal, Mr. and Mrs. and the eldest Miss Worthy, who of late had become very serious, made such remarks on the sermon, as were widely different from those dreary notions of real religion which Mr. Lovely began, from misconceptions, to entertain. He discovered that Sunday, at Brookfield-Hall, though the most solemn, was the happiest day of all the seven; and that they could quote different passages of the sermon, which they heard from their excellent Minister with supreme approbation and delight. This staggered his prejudices, though it did not remove them. Soon after dinner the cheerful voice of praise was heard at a distance from the children of the Sunday school, who were kindly accommodated with Mr. Worthy's laundry as a school-room. This at once attracted the ear of Mrs. Lovely; and after some enquiries were made respecting that institution, she looked at her husband, and dropt a tear. He seeing the agitation of her spirits, requested her to walk out, and the conversation on the same subject thus recommenced.

Mrs. Lov. Will you my dear, indulge me with the privilege of attending at church again this afternoon? Surely the religion which makes this excellent family so happy, can never make us miserable. When I heard the song of praise from the voices of those poor children, how did I wish that I could but be transformed into one of those little ones, that I might attend again at church without grieving you!

Lov. You know that my advice is from the purest principles of affection. But if you cannot be happy unless you again go to church, I shall say no more. Only, my dearest creature, for my sake and your own sake, be on your guard, that Mr. Lovegood's harsh doctrine may not injure your health. I cannot bear to hear you call yourself "a whited sepul

chre," and that you should have such unjust notions of the supposed badness of your unblemished heart, when I am sure you have given sufficient evidence, that it is so virtuous and good; and indeed, I think we have neither of us been so remiss in any part of our duty, as to be registered amongst the most unworthy and negligent of mankind.

Mrs. Lov. I am afraid, if we have been attentive to the lesser duties between man and man, we have been too remiss in the still more important duty, required of us in our love and service towards God. Cannot you remember that that was one of Mr. Lovegood's observations during the sermon ?

Lov. Now upon this principle alone it is, I ground my objection against your attendance.. I confess the Worthys are a very cheerful and happy family; but however Mr. Lovegood's notions may do them no harm, yet as your afflictions have much sunk your spirits, his strong notions of religion may not be so suitable to you as to them; and this makes me think, notwithstanding their kindness, that our visit to this place, for your sake, must be short; as I fear these dreary sentiments respecting yourself, may hurt your health.

Mrs. Lov. Oh my dear! with your leave I hope we shall continue here, at least for a few days, according to the most hospitable and affectionate invitation of the family. Indeed it would be quite rude to do otherwise. It would look as though we had taken some disgust, while at the same time their kindness is inexpressible. And did you not mind what a heaped dishful of slices of bread and meat were sent out to these poor children? And Mrs. Worthy told me, that it is their constant custom to cut up a large joint, and some other fragments, that each child might have his Sunday's repast as well as his schooling: and I am told that the children and all their parents are brought into the laundry every other Monday evening, and examined and instructed by Mr. Lovegood; and that once a quarter he has them

publicly in the church, and makes a sermon on pur. pose for them, and then afterwards gives all the parents and children a supper together, in the servants' hall. O my dear! do let me beseech you to stop a few days in these parts, that we may know more of this excellent family; and let us get acquainted with Mr. Lovegood. Mrs. Worthy says, he always dines at their house on the Monday, when he comes to instruct the children and their parents: and she says hẹ is a cheerful man, though he is so very religious; and if ever your uncle, or old Mr. Greedy, should leave you his fortune, we shall have plenty for our poor neighbours, as well as for ourselves; and I am sure we cannot meet with better instructors, how we should act for the good of others, than as we take pattern from what is now before us.

Lov. How can you my dear life, think yourself "a whited sepulchre," when you are so full of charitable purposes, and good designs?

Mrs. Lov. O, it is on account of the intermixture of evil I still feel. I am ashamed to say what I feel. Why should I have such bad thoughts? but the bells are ringing for Church. I seem quite revived at the thoughts, that your objections are removed. For you cannot but have observed the most pleasant conversation of the family, and the creditable, comfortable, and orderly way in which they live. Surely the religion which has done them so much good, can never do us any harm. O do my dear George, O do let me go to Church with them, and let me request you to

come with us.

Lov. My dear, you quite disarm me, and while I submit, I confess, I rather go with you to guard you against some mistaken impressions which I fear you have already imbibed, than by shewing my approbation of your zeal. However, I will go with you, having already fortified my own mind against all the wrong notions we heard this morning; I have only to request you for your own peace,-Be upon your guard.

After this conversation they immediately returned, and went to church with the family. Mr. Lovegood on that afternoon, preached a more awful sermon than usual, on the parable of the Ten Virgins; observing what a remarkable similarity subsisted for a while, between such as were wise, and others who were foolish, till the day of trial made known the difference between them. That the lamp of a profession may give a splendid light for a while, but at length it may go out in everlasting darkness. That the grace of God may be so nearly imitated by natural gifts and outward advantages, as that many persons may "have a name to live, and yet be dead." He first mentioned some who might have "the form of godliness, and deny the power. He asked his formal hearers, if they had ever examined their hearts by that expression, "The power of God." He remarked its emphatic meaning,-how different from a mere mechanical form! that though he by no means condemned forms of prayer, for that we had them in our psalms and hymns, and in the word of God itself; yet that these would not cover the sin of those, who are merely formal in prayer. That the best and most spiritual forms of prayer, if not offered up from a heart which is spiritual, are but an abomination: for that God thus complained of his own Israel : "This people draweth near to me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me. He observed further on the same subject, that forms of prayer can never create, though they may lead devotion: and that as we advance in the spiritual life, we shall be constrained to extend the wings of devotion, and not merely confine ourselves to such directories as we once needed, in the earlier part of the divine life; but that as our spirits grow up into God in all things," we shall find, that the fervor of holy prayer will require to be released from the cold and frigid business of a form; especially when we retire into the closet, that we

may "pray with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit.'

He then discoursed on reading the Bible; attending public worship, and frequenting the Lord's table; shewing that as these were the means of grace, we might expect good from them; yet, that it was possible to give a very diligent attendance on all these things, in a formal customary manner with our lips, without the oil of grace; that the question is not so much what we do, but that we should examine the motives why we do it: that the true worshippers of God, whose services are acceptable, are only they who "worship God in spirit and in truth." He then made some remarks on a living faith, which ever unites to Christ, and by which union alone, "the oil of grace" is communicated to our hearts, and distills itself throughout all our actions; that a mere dead faith makes a professor, but, that it is a living faith, which makes a possessor of the grace of God, in deed and in truth.

He next went on the business of rectifying another mistake, that "the oil of grace" consists in our being blessed with good natural dispositions. He observed, that even among the brutes, though of the same kind, some of them have their good dispositions, and prove naturally manageable and kind, while others of them are sulky and perverse: and that this mere diversity of disposition, is equally conspicuous in the human race; and consequently, a mere good disposition, however excellent in its place, which may be found in a brute, as well as in the human race, can never be called "the oil of grace." That these sweet-blooded sinners, are too frequently found among the most negligent and profane before God; yet, in their way, affectionate and kind towards others of their fellow sinners, while all of them are equally at a distance from the holy, spiritual mind, belonging to those who are truly "in Christ Jesus."

Having thus warned his hearers against supposing