of benevolence. The plan is formed. The popular preacher yields to benevolent importunity. The church is engaged. The day is fixed. The ladies of rank and fashion lend their willing aid. The eloquence of the preacher is affecting. The collection is large. What a beneficent age! what an universal triumph of pure philanthropy! But what mental discernment, what metaphysical anatomy shall be sufficient to develop, what power of numbers almost shall be adequate to express all the various internal principles, with all their diversities of movements and workings, which really are engaged in the production of the combined effect. Perhaps even some transient impulse of the most superficial feeling may really have, in some instances, achieved the victory. The eloquence of the preacher obtains the honour: the real effect may be due to the lady of fashion who held the plate. Far be it from me to damp the ardour, or check the eager ness, of the practical benevolence which so eminently distinguishes the present age.

The true Christian is, doubtless, above all others, generous, sympathetic, and beneficent; but let us watch our selves amid the confused assemblage of feelings, and beware of lightly in dulging any complacency, from the consciousness of that truly Christian grace of pity and benevolence; for such it is when springing from its proper stock, and resulting from its true motives, a conformity to the character, gratitude for the love, and a desire of the favour of our merciful Redeemer. Especially let us try ourselves by the pre. cept of our blessed Saviour, and examine whether our benevolence naturally courts observation or retirement; whether we are as liberal and as forward to relieve the distresses of our fellow creatures in private, as in public, when the eye of God alone beholds us, as when we engage the attention and secure the applause of admiring spectators.

3dly. We are prone to flatter our-. selves, by indulging the notion that our habits of vice are but individual acts, into which we have been seduced by Occasional temptations; while we are casily led to assign the name of habits

to our occasional acts, and individual instances of virtue.

4thly. We confound the mere assent of the understanding, naturally attended by some correspondent but transient sensibilities, with the impulses of the affections and the determinations of the will. This is a most copious source of self-deception. How often in our perusal of the page of history, or in the intercourse of real life, when we approve what is right and condemn what is wrong; when we applaud the disinterestedness of genuine patriotism, or condemn the selfishness of the political hireling; when we are warmed into a generous indignation against vice, or sympathize in the sufferings, or rejoice in the triumphs of virtue; how often does a degree of self-complacency steal on the mind. We are naturally led to indulge an idea, more or less accurately formed into shape and substance, that we ourselves, at least in some degree, participate in the virtues and are warmed by the affections we admire; that we should willingly have shared the dangers, and persevered in the struggle, and achieved the triumphs of the hero of the tale; that our virtuous independence would, in like manner, have resisted the seductions of wealth, and power, and party spirit, and the general corruption of a venal and factious age. Whereas, perhaps, we are merely exercising that faculty of judging, and indulging those passing impulses of sensibility, which are naturally called into action by the exhibition of their proper objects; feeling also at the same time gratified by the consciousness of our approbation being rightly bestowed, and of our affections answering to the legitimate summons. Yet how little does this. approbation, which in the closet we give to what is clearly right; how little does this transient sensibility, which is called forth by the power of sympathy, afford any satisfactory proof, that in the mixed and confused combinations of motives and feelings, which often occur in the varied scenes of human affairs, we should exercise the same just judgment, or be prompted by the same generous feelings. Would we obtain a more just estimate of our character, let us

institute a fair inquiry, how we have actually been enabled to conduct our selves in the hour of trial, in the substantial realities of life and action.

5thly. How apt are we to ascribe to settled principles those good actions which are the mere effect of natural temper. The man of activity, for instance, readily indulges the persuasion that his, perhaps merely instinctive, industry is a just measure of his zeal and energy in the assistance of his fellow creatures, or in the service of God; while the recluse, who gratifies his natural love of retirement by quitting the haunts of men, too easily lends himself to the flattering persuasion that he is influenced by a desire of flying from the contagion of society, and cultivating, in the security of solitude, those Christian graces which court the shade, and shrink back from the rude conflicts of a churlish world.

6thly. It is another general source of self-deception, in some degree similar to the last, that as sometimes in estimating the characters of others, we too hastily infer the right motive from the outward act, and from ignorance or indifference are satisfied with the heartless exterior of virtue: so in judging of ourselves, we overrate the worth by overvaluing the motives of our actions; and still more when any mental affection wears, on a superficial view, something of the guise and air of a Christian grace, we too hastily accept it as a mark of our religious proficiency. But perhaps fall Christian graces have their counterfeits; all are liable to be tainted by proceeding from an infectious stock, or by some polluting and depraving mixture. The name and serablance of humility, that beauty and flower of true religion, is sometimes falsely assumed by affectation; or our acts of apparent humility are secretly contaminated, and even instigated and cherished, by pride. A fiery temper, warmed by party spirit, conceals itself even from him who is the subject of it, under the vain pretence of zeal for the glory of God; while lukewarmness affects the character and usurps the honours of meekness and moderation. The real workings of a close, perhaps, but restless and insatiate vanity, are but ill concealed from

others, though too fondly indulged by ourselves, under the plausible plea of a desire to let our light shine before men, to the glory of God and the credit of the Christian character. It is in some degree owing to a delusion of this sort, though arising chiefly from a fundamental error as to the real nature and essence of all true religion, that many are so fatally deceived in the estimate of their own religious character and state, when they vainly look up to God as their reconciled father, though continuing under the power of their corruptions and in the practice of sin; and confound that consequent, though fallacious complacency, which, from feelings of self-interest, naturally arises in their minds on viewing the character of the Supreme Being, with that real sense of the excellence and beauty of holiness, which makes the true Christian contemplate with humble but admiring love and joy the character of his God and Saviour; and long to be renewed after that image which is the object of his attachment and admiration. Christian beware! There are Antinomians of all classes and descriptions, from the dissipated woman of fashion, who, with a heart absorbed in worldly vanities, reposes an unwarrantable confidence in her Redeemer, and even feels a vain gratitude to that Saviour to whom she trusts for pardon and final happiness, to the selfcomplacent religionist, who, puffed up with a vain conceit of his superior light and extraordinary proficiency in divine things, fondly flatters himself that he is a favourite of heaven, while his pride, presumption, and indolent self-indulgent censoriousness, betray a state of heart directly opposite to the genuine operations of divine grace, as they were exemplified in the character of the meek and lowly Jesus, or in the habits, and affections, and language of that blessed Apostle, who, in the midst of labours and sufferings unparalleled, honoured likewise with, perhaps, unequalled disclosures of heavenly glory, was gentle and affectionate, (Thess. ii. 7. 8.) watchful and self-denying, (1 Cor. x. 27.) serving the Lord with all humility of mind, in weakness and fear, and much trembling.

7thly. We often confound the non

you manage to avoid disputes in your society? And what method have you of terminating them amicably when they do arise? You will understand me right. I have not the least thought of damping the design.

Heb. x. 25. I take to be fully to the purpose, and much good may be expected from it. Indeed truly religious persons will hardly be kept asunder. But upon the whole it is a delicate affair, and requires all the steadiness, prudence, and piety of an able conductor, to keep the members of it knit together in the bonds of Christian love, considering the variety of tempers and mixture of human frailties in the best. May it answer your most sanguine expectations! May God daily add to it, and make it a blessing to the place where you are, in the pious examples, Christian lives, and brotherly charity of all who belong to it! For the eyes of many will be upon you; and graceless illjudging bystanders will be ready to take occasion from the miscarriages or infirmities of a few, to involve all in one

common censure.

If a hint of this kind is improveable by you, to the uses of your society, I have my end; and whether wanted or not, I know you will pardon me. I shall be glad of any farther particulars at your leisure; every thing you say being useful to me in the way of instruction or reproof. Your method of catechising by classes, shews you are resolved to spare no pains, and, in my poor opinion, is well judged. Young children, for the most part, are the only catechumens that offer themselves for our instructions, and they soon forget all; which you prevent by taking them up again afterwards. By this means you have an opportunity, not only of renewing and confirming former instructions, but adding others more suitable to their age and experience, and when the time requires, of feeding them with strong

meat.

Dear Sir, what reason have you and many others to bless God for your meeting with a pious friend, at your first coming to Truro; and what encouragement there is in this instance, for all who know the truth to speak out. Extend your influence far and near.

God may work by you in other places. Strengthen those every where who are ready to faint, because they are weak and few. Whatever you have to offer to the world will, I dare say, be the thing which the world wants, therefore slack not your hand. If you are in earnest in doing Christ's work, you must be content with the wages he gives his faithful servants. What they are I need not tell you. When I ventured my little piece abroad, I expected nothing but to have many mouths opened against me; but as the event has been otherwise, I fear I have palliated matters. Read Bilney's Letter to Bishop Tonstal, in Fox's Book of Martyrs, vol. ii. If truth should not be opposed and persecuted, the Gospel,which declares the universal degeneracy of mankind, would not be true. Mr. Piers is a bold man, and has the courage to speak what some others only think. It is a pity that his stile is so much encumbered with parentheses. But he seems, to me, to be so full of matter, that he could not give vent to it fast enough. You may not have heard that the Dean of the Arches, and all the clergy, most shamefully went out of the church, with one consent, in the year 1742, while he was preaching an excellent Visitation Sermon, at Sevenoaks in Kent. Mr. Hartley's Sermons are all sold off, but he tells me will soon be reprinted. Mr. Bassett, I know, will thank you from his heart, for stirring him up to more fruitfulness, as I do, desiring you, once for all, to think no otherwise of me than as a weak brother, and one who mourns, though not enough, under a sense of great unfaithfulness.

I am, dear Sir,

Very respectfully and affectionately, Yours,

THOMAS ADAM.

To the Editor of the Christian Observer.
SIR,

THE late Dr. Fothergill, a pious and sensible Quaker, being informed that a gentleman at a house where he visited was paying his addresses to a young lady, desired leave to offer to him a piece of advice. The gentleman made a bow of submission to this oracle of wisdom.

"Friend," said the shrewd and benevolent physician, "my advice is this that thou shouldst court in thy every day clothes."

The Doctor unquestionably did not mean that the sentiment which he delivered should be confined to the article of dress.

He intended to insinuate, that the man who is paying his addresses (and by parity of reason, the lady also who is receiving them) should exhibit themselves to each other such as they usually are, and should not endeavour to wear, for the time, a more favourable character than will be found ordinarily to belong to them.

I profess myself, Sir, to be an admirer of this inaxiin of Dr. Fothergill. I think it well becomes the simplicity not only of a Quaker but of a Christian; and I believe that marriages would be much more happy, if the honest Quaker's advice was more attended to. Among people of the world, a treaty of marriage is often conducted on much the same principles as all those other bargains or contracts in which each party makes the best of his own wares, by setting off their excellences and of obscuring their faults, and taking advantage of the ignorance of his neighbour. I happen, Mr. Editor, to have bought many horses; but I do not remember to have ever contracted for one of these animals, which, before he was bought, had, according to the dealer's account, any fault in him; and, on the other hand, I do not recollect ever to have purchased one, which, after he came into my possession, proved to be without some material deficiency: I have therefore been led, at last, to wish that I could find some trader who would profess not to sell these altogether perfect animals. "I beseech you, Sir," I have sometimes said to the dealer, "tell me what is the defect of this horse. I assure you it is not likely to hinder my buying him. On the contrary, I shall judge better, perhaps, both of you and the horse, when I know what is his chief failing." "Sir, I would tell you, with all my heart, but as to this horse, he really has no fault," is the universal answer.

Now, Sir, there are some mothers,

who partly, perhaps, through partiality to their own offspring, but partly also from a desire to pass off their daughters, represent them to be in that disagreeable state of perfection which I have complained of. If you inquire after the young lady's health, it is always good-her temper, it is excellent-her memory, it is the finest imaginable-as to books, she is sure to be fond of them

and then she is so good to the poorif she has any failing, it is, that she is sometimes a little taken in by pretended cases of compassion; but this is an evil of which she will be cured after more experience-and if, lastly, you inquire after her religious principles, "oh! they are, of course, exactly what they ought to be."

Nor is the praise bestowed on young persons of the other sex less extravagant. "He is one of the very best young men in the world," is one of those common answers which some persons give to all manner of inquiries. Would any one believe that the beings, of whom all these fine things are said, go to church, (if indeed they go there) in order to confess that, "they have done those things which they ought not to have done, and have left undone those things which they ought to have done, and that there is no health in them; and that they there penitentially exclaim, "Lord have mercy upon us, miserable sinners."

But to dismiss the subject so far as it respects the gay, unthinking, and irreligious classes of society, let me address myself to those of a more sober and serious cast. Among these, the general corruption of our nature is more freely confessed: man is allowed to be born in sin, and the renewal of our nature unto holiness is understood to be the great object which we have to fulfil on earth, and one of the chief ends of Christianity. I am afraid, however, that sin is often acknowledged in the general, but is denied or greatly palliated in respect to each particular; and hence, in spite of the largest and most orthodox admissions, a set of those perfect young gentlemen, and of those equally perfect young ladies, of whom I am complaining, sometimes present themselves to us, even in religious circles.