brethren, as appears from the judicious commendation bestowed on them, in the journals of criticism, and from their having passed through three successive editions, in the course of one year.

Although the religious publications of the day are numerous, and in many instances excellent, for their orthodox sentiment and benign moral tendencies, still we have long been sensible of a deficiency in that species of writing, which would be calculated to counteract the unhappy influence of those multiplied publications, which present themselves under the attractive titles of romances and novels. Sermons, however eloquently written, and didactic theological treatises, however recommended by their ability and conclusiveness, although they may be eagerly perused by confirmed Christians, seldom succeed in arresting the attention of ardent youthful minds, which revolt from the labour of elaborate discussions, and delight chiefly in the charms of narrative composition.

As our taste for reading is generally regulated by the peculiarity of those writings, which have absorbed our attention and enlisted our feelings when buoyant with youth; and as there is a palpable and imminent danger attendant upon the perusal of those fictitious narratives and adventures, which are poured upon us with an unsparing and undiscriminating profusion; it must certainly be esteemed a desideratum, that our Christian literature should be provided with a proper counteractive-an antidote to the poison.

Novels are recommended by their incident and adventure, and their popularity is in no slight degree increased by the circumstance, that they may be comprehended without any painful application of the mind; yet certainly, a chaste, skilful and

Every justifiable mean should be resorted to, in order to excite an interest in the minds of youth, in favour of the religion of Christ; every possible channel of communication should be explored, by which its divine and saving maxims may obtain access to their hearts. We think it by no means hazardous, to embody religious truth in story, which may be fictitious in its general outline, when the line of demarcation is accurately drawn; and since we are apprized of the particular style of writing, which is sought after, by the prevailing taste, we should endeavour, as far as practicable, to wrest it from polluted purposes, and sanctify it to religious use.

We consider the volumes under our notice, as occupying a department in religious literature, which has hitherto been too much neglected; and for their peculiar character they have our cordial approbation.

In the form of narrative, they present much interesting incident, much chaste and elegant description; and by the deep solemnity of the truths exhibited and the beauty of style in which they are dressed, they are calculated, we think, to insure the perusal of youth, who are more particularly tempted by the vitiating novel.

The story being founded" on recent and interesting facts," derives an additional charm from that circumstance; forming in the whole, a piece of history exceedingly instructive, and evidencing in the author, a knowledge of the human heart, which but few possess.

As it is probable, many of our readers will not have an opportunity of procuring these volumes, we will present to them a brief outline of the narrative and accompany it with some of the most striking passages in the work. Lefevre, the prominent personage and sub

an early age, many excellencies of a moral and religious cast. In the

amiable and exemplary Douglas, he found a friend, to whom he might confide the secrets of his soul, and without restraint unbosom his hopes and fears. Such a companion and counsellor Lefevre needed; he had early been dismissed from the roof of a pious and anxious mother, and was exposed in a public office to all the snares of the British metropolis; and although his aim was good, his disposition was too compliant, to resist the seductions of sin, without the constant guardianship of a friend, more fixed in religious principles. Wallis, a companion of Lefevre in the office, was a youth of insinuating address, generous and social spirit, yet of dissipated habits. During the absence of Douglas from the capital, he succeeded in seducing Lefevre into the routine of vice, until at length, the victim had outstripped the seducer in every species of iniquitous abandonment. The judgments of God at length overtook the offender; despair fastened upon his soul; from despair he settled into melancholy, and in this state of mind, meditated his own destruction, but finally enlisted in the army for the American service.

On his voyage to Canada, the Spirit of God met the offender; humbled him under penitential views of his own misconduct, and restored to him his long lost peace of conscience.

He finally obtains his discharge, and returns like the prodigal to the sweet enjoyment of home and friends.

Though a very faint idea of the narrative is conveyed by this outline, we have no fear but the defect may be remedied by selections from the volumes; for the length of which their truth and moral tendencies must apologise. The following is a pleasing specimen of the style of our author, and whilst, in one point of view, it illustrates the character of Lefevre before his apostacy, it may probably remind some of our

readers, of Wirt's eloquent picture in the British Spy, of the preaching of the venerable Waddell; it is an extract of a letter from Lefevre to Douglas.

"On Sunday I heard Dr. Mills. I had not many expectations, but how was I surprised and delighted! He is a real orator; quite an example of the eloquence of which we have been lately saying so much. No gingling antitheses-no unmeaning epithets no periods set to music-no meretricious ornaments-no tricks to catch admiration and applause. On the contrary, there was, occasionally, something in his manner, that a fastidious critic would have called awkward; and, sometimes in his style, there was a degree of carelessness that involved a sentence in some obscurity; but this seemed to carry forward the great effect of the discourse, as it convinced his hearers he was intent on higher objects. His gestures were the most natural; dictated from present feeling, and not from studied attitudes. His language was plain and simple, such as seems at every one's command, but which, after all, few can employ: and, if images were introduced, they evidently rose to illustrate and enforce the subject, and were not called up to assert the capacity of the speaker.

"But Dr. Mills' forte is in the pathetic. He appears convinced that sermons, addressed as they generally are, to people who know more than they practice, should incline rather to exhortation, than argument; and he possesses, in a remarkable degree, that insinuating, affectionate earnestness, which the French call onction.

"When he first announces his subject, there is nothing to observe, except, that every thing about him seems to say, 'he is in earnest.' He gathers warmth and energy as he proceeds; and the prevailing sentiment of his heart evidently is -If so be I may save myself and them that hear me !?'

"I shall never forget the close of his sermon on Sabbath morning. He had been treating of the excellencies of the Saviour; and was addressing those who neglected them. Piety, anxiety, benevolence, rose to their fullest exercise, and his manner and language were most powerfully vehement. Now, he entreated like the tenderest of parents; then, he proclaimed the forgiving mercy of the Redeemer, with the authority of an apostle; and again, with trembling, he foretold, like a prophet, the unavoidable miseries of impenitence. He forgot himself, and his hearers forgot him. His style, his manner, his sentiments were wonderfully eloquent and grand. They influenced all; but no

one dwelt upon them. Nothing filled the soul of the preacher, but the immortal interests of his people, and he had succeeded in fixing their attention on the same object.

"As he was about to sit down, he paused; looked compassionately on his congregation, and said, "I have now fulfilled my commission. I have contrasted the world you have idolized, with the Saviour you have neglected. Say, my dear hearers, which will you serve? I will not receive your reply. The Saviour him self is in this place!-Answer as in his presence-Do you hesitate?—Hesitate to prefer bliss to sorrow-honour to disgrace -heaven to earth-heaven to hell-Oh! to hesitate, is to yield to the tempter of your souls to hesitate is to defer your safety to a moment that may never, never be yours!-Yesterday is not yours. gone; and has recorded your transgressions before God!-To-morrow is not yours-it may never come to you. This moment alone is yours; and the very moment in which you should cast yourself on the mercy of the all-merciful Redemer."

It is

"O, say not,' he continued, "I am too ardent on this subject. Because you are too insensible to your salvation, blame not those who cannot imitate your indifference. I have a deep stake in your highest interest! I trust I can lay my hand on my conscience and say, I am clear of your blood; but this-this is not enough! I aspire not only to escape being accessary to your ruin-I pant to be the instrument of your redemption! You are part of the charge which the hand of Providence has committed to my care; and when I pen my fold for immortality,' how can I bear to find you wanting? I have prayed for you-and watched for you-and travailed in birth till Christ be formed within you the hope of glory;' and how-O! how can I endure to subscribe to the sentence of your condemnation, and see you sink into hopeless, endless, unutterable wretchedness-God Almighty, in his infinite mercy, avert from us such tremendous evils! and grant, that through his dear Son, we may all finally partake of that blessed salvation which we all so eminently need-which we have all so criminally abused."

"He sat down. A solemn silence testified the feelings of the assembly-several were moved to tears. I trembled on my seat. But you should have seen and heard him to judge. I have not done him justice."

The art of Wallis in seducing Lefevre from the innocence and happiness of a religious life, is admirably delineated, and presents a

salutary admonition to youth, who are exposed to the example and persuasions of ungodly companions. Nemo repente turpissimus; there is a gradation in sin; if we indulge the 'appearance of evil," we are in danger of plunging into unequivocal criminality. Such was the experience of Lefevre; "he passed from the doubtful to the improper, from the improper to the vicious, from the vicious to the flagrant.' Wallis desired to rub off his " puritanical austerities," that he might convert him into a jovial companion; and he found but little difficulty, after a first compliance, to conduct him from the concert to the dance, and from the dance to the social board; where honoured as "master of ceremonies," he was soon inveigled, by the attention and flattery of his companions, into an act of degrading, dishonouring intemperance.

Thus the Rubicon

was passed; he had made a merciless sacrifice of his religious character, and now every mean was ineffectually applied to recal him to the path of virtue or to prevent him from plunging deeper into vice.

Although conscience may be lulled with opiates, there is a time, when it will assert its rights; and if rejected as a friend, it will assume the spectral aspect of a tormenting fiend.

Lefevre had run the round of worldly pleasure-his sensual appetite had become satiated and disordered his relish was lost-and whilst thus sickened by the world, the judgments of God overtook the offender.

Hapless youth! the vultures of remorse revelled at his heart, and conscience had learned to "bite like an adder and sting like a serpent." We cannot resist a few extracts which strongly pourtray the despairing feeling of his mind.

"I believe I shall die-I know I shall be damned.'

"He spake like one, who thought, that this confession broke his last link with hu

manity-like. one, who was waiting the summons to final punishment. Horror moved on his features; and the chair he occupied trembled with his emotion!

"O Charles!' said Douglas, 'do you know what you are saying? Do you know what it is to be damned?'

"With a voice and smile inconceivably unnatural and shocking, he replied'Know what it is? I think I do! They who have suffered as I have these three nights, may easily know what is damnation.'

"Charles! Charles!-you must not. talk so! This is language suited only to those spirits, who have fallen below hope!'

"And am not I below hope? Am not I like them? Do not I suffer the wrath of God? Do not I feel the unquenchable fires within me ?

"Charles!' interrupted Douglas, 'I beseech you this must not be-quit the subject

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Quit the subject!' he cried, renewing his ghastly smile,'quit the subject! Why, I can think of nothing else!-It haunts me by night and day, and I cannot get rid of it! O, Douglas! I have lighted up the fires of hell in my conscience and I cannot extinguish them!'"

The violent tumult of his mind fixed disease on his body; under the sway of the fever "he was alternately rational or delirious; but in either state, his thoughts were engrossed by the weight of his guilt. If he reasoned, it was against himself; and if frantic, it was the phrenzy of despair." We present to our readers the interview between Douglas and his wretched friend.

"Look to Mount Calvary!' said Douglas,-look to the cross of Jesus-there hangs all our hope'

"O name it not!' he cried, that goes to my very soul !-O how have I abusedmocked and crucified the Saviour of sinners!--but for this, there might have been some hope!'

"There is hope yet!-Though you have insulted and neglected him, he looks upon you, as he did on Peter, and invites you to return to him. O look to him Charles!'

"O do look to him Charles!' cried Mrs. Russel, dropping down by his bed-side, and raising her hands as in supplication.'He has said, he will cast out none that come to him-if you had a thousand souls, you might trust them all on that.’

"I cannot-I cannot!'

"Ask him to enable you,' said Douglas.

"No!' replied Douglas, 'it cannot be too late while you are out of eternity.'

"Lefevre was affected. Douglas wept. Mrs. Russel sobbed. She thought there was a ray of hope. Always ardent, her feelings rose with her hopes, and she continued sobbing and saying,-O Charles, do be persuaded-do listen to me-listen to Mr. Douglas-you loved Mr. Douglasand he loves you-listen to him.-Do try to pray.-Bless my ears with one prayerif it is only Lord help me.'-Say, Lord help me-do! He will hear you, indeed he will.-Shall we pray for you?-Mr. Douglas, do pray for him-he does not object.'

"Douglas sunk on his knees, but was not in a state for regular prayer. They uttered their desires rather by cries and tears unto God,' than by any connected

sentences.

66

They arose, and, in silence, looked anxiously and tearfully upon him. He had evidently been greatly agitated, and appeared as though his thoughts were beginning to wander. His despair strengthened with the disorder of his mind.-0 don't weep for me,' he cried-my heart is so hard, I cannot weep. Once sympathy was dear to me-but now its like oil to my burning conscience.'

"We weep,' cried Mrs. Russel, 'for love, for hope! we hope you will recover -we hope our prayers will be heard.'

"No never!-no never!' he exclaimed in a deep and resolved voice-your prayers will bless you, but they cannot bless me -none can bless me but God, and he will not. It is just-I have forsaken him-'I will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh,'-think of that!'

"He paused, and was getting more confused. Wallis and his uncle came into the room, but he did not distinguish them. He looked round with wildness, and continued at intervals:·

"Lost, lost, for ever lost!-0 I have forsaken my God-he called, but I would not hear he stretched out his hand, but I rejected it-think of that!-See! how his broad eye frowns upon me! O hide mehide me-from the wrath of the Lamb! Cruel Douglas, to tell me to look to the cross-any thing but that!

Ó how I burn!-Pour some water over me here (running his hand over his bosom)— Unquenchable fire, think of that!-a worm that dieth not-if it would but die !-Death is nothing-but its what comes after death -dreadful-dreadful!

Mind I tell you take care of sin-its a nasty, bloody thing. If it stains your conscience you'll never get it off-I trifled with it--and I shall never be clean again. Take care of sin !-God won't forgive you else-O, He is good and merciful-veryvery-but then he's just-he's just!-think of that!-O I have forsaken my God-I have forsaken my God!'

"Lefevre groaned heavily as he terminated these and some similar exclamations; and looked round on the objects in the chamber, with that speculation in his eyes,' which indicated the return of his mind to his senses. Wallis and Lefevre's uncle gazed on each other in wonder.

"Poor fellow! this is only what might have been expected,' said Wallis, veiling his sentiments in ambiguous words, lest Douglas should correct him.

"Expected indeed,' said the uncle, 'this is what I always thought his overrighteous ways would come to. I told him it would never hold long, and if it did, it would be sure to turn his brain. You see my words are true. Its all his religionthat's a clear case.'

"Lefevre sprung hastily in his bed as the last sentence caught his ear, and exclaimed-All my religion, Sir! O, is the just punishment of my sins to be imputed to religion! No, Sir, it is all for the want of religion that you see me thus! I neglected-despised that religion which you awfully blaspheme-this makes me wither and perish as you see, under the curse of Almighty God!'

"Well, don't discompose yourself, Charles,' said Wallis, stepping towards him.

"Lefevre had not distinctly recollected his presence. He turned a piercing eye upon him, which spoke to his soul-his tongue faltered a moment, and then he said "O Wallis! you have ruined me! How can I look at you! Yes-you have not gone the lengths I have-but you first led me astray-first brought me to base company! O, I was never unhappy till I knew you!-Yet it was all my own faultI knew better.'

"Wallis endeavoured to cover his awkwardness under this address, by assuming an air of indifference.

"Lefevre's quick eye, still searching his countenance, observed it-'O Wallis,' said he, 'attend to me!-I have little to say in this world!-There is hope for you. Doubt not the truth of religion. I tried to doubt, but I don't doubt now! I feel there is a

God whom I have offended. I feel there is a heaven I have lost. I feel there is a hell-I have the witness here (striking his breast)-O do not trifle as I have doneas you have done-renounce the worldfly to the Saviour. Brave not the terrors of God? I could brave more than youbut see what I am! The finger of God crushes me like a moth!-O 'tis a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God!'"

His melancholy is described with equal force and graphical effect.

"Deep melancholy had been gradually preying upon Lefevre, and her dominion seemed now complete. He became more like the statue of a man, than a man himself. Hour after hour he would retain the same seat, and even the same attitude, without any sense of fatigue; as in sleep we retain a posture free from uneasiness, which would have been insupportable had we been awake to our situation. The features of his face were fixed in one unchanged expression; knowing no variation but the occasional muttering of the lips, which yet emitted no articulate sounds. He noticed nothing-he wished for nothing he showed feeling at nothing; except when attempts were made to disturb him. The servants, and even the very animals of the house, in time, passed to and from his room, as though it were unoccupied; and, if any regard was paid to it, it was such a regard as we pay to a place where death has entered, and not where a living inhabitant is found. In a word, Lefevre appeared to have lost all volition. He was like a fine machine, perfect in all its parts; but, from the fracture of the grand spring, incapable of all motion, except by extrinsic excitement. With all this apparent insensibility, however, to a careful observer, there was an indefinable something about Lefevre, which indicated-not only feeling-but feeling compressed and agonizing. The rebellious passions had ceased their violent struggles in the outworks, but they were now sapping the very citadel. A cold, stony indifference had placed its deathly form on all his faculties; but upon the whole of that form might be seen the worm of anguish, silently, yet rapaciously, feeding on the very seat of vitality!

"Nothing can readily be imagined more afflicting to an affectionate mother, than to be called to attend, day after day, a child in such a situation. She soothed him-she caressed him-she entreated him -she prayed for him-she wept over him— but nothing availed-it was like rain falling on the rock. The most that, by all her efforts she could extort from him was an unwelcome Leave me! leave me 8293