or with a few who, for various reasons, gather round you, the great “working-day world" is untouched by your influence, and to a very great extent unconscious of your existence. Come out, then, physicians of souls, into this mighty hospital, for here are they that have need of you. Come out and seek those that shun you, and do good to those that use you despitefully, instead of secluding yourselves with those who show you reverence. Come out, and you may learn something while you are teaching, and may learn how to teach. Find what men are, first and above all, and make yourselves what they are in all things short of sin, that thus haply you may save some. Mix with us in our theatres and ball rooms, temper our merry-makings with your presence, grow into our intimacies, study us in our unguarded moments, win our confidence by sympathizing in all our affections; then mould us as you will. You cannot do this without incurring reproach, and that from quarters to which you are wont to look for praise. The whole army of those who profess extraordinary purity will rise up against you; they will cry out upon you for gluttons and wine bibbers, the friends of publicans and sinners, and this reproach which Christ endured, you ought also to endure for His sake. For many will be able to say to Him in the last day, that they have prophesied in His name, and in His name done many wonderful works, who must yet add, that by neglecting this path of usefulness, by living in careful insulation and separation, they have kept their knowledge of the truth buried, like the talent of that servant who was judged unprofitable, and who received no commendation for having risked no loss, but condemnation for having attempted no gain. It is worth a moment's inquiry what gains might be expected from the system I recommend ; a system totally contrary to all your traditionary commandments, but perfectly consonant to the example of your Master, as it is to His words and to those of His apostles. It is a system not compatible with claims to reverence, much less to authority; be ye not called rabbi; nor yet, since that word is Hebrew, be ye called anything in any modern tongue that may be equivalent to it. Christ explicitly condemned the example of those who made their phylacteries broad, and enlarged the borders of their garments, for they thus laid claim to an outward distinction, and put on visible badges of a profession of superior sanctity. Be ye not, therefore, like unto them, neither do that in your conduct and conversation which is thus forbidden to your dress. Destroy, as far as possible, all distinctions of form and manner between yourselves and those you would influence, for in fact and in truth it is only through the openings afforded by social kindness you can reach men's hearts and make them better. "Between unequals there is no society," and it is by your pretensions that the feeling of equality is displaced, and that antipathy engendered which, in the minds of all men, meets naturally all assertion of authority and claims to obedience. Christ knew that such was man's nature, and that thus it should be managed, and He ordered His disciples to demean themselves accordingly. How truly He saw the right course, and how widely you have erred from it, may be made to appear by considering well the effects of what you do, and the effects that might be expected from what you might do.

In the first place, then, consider our public amusements. The clergyman abjures them absolutely; but do they therefore cease? Not at all. They continue in his absence; the good he might do there is not done, and evils multiply which he might check. He calls aloud, and, right or

wrong, he uses the name of God to enforce his call, upon all who remain at this post, to follow his example, to desert and surrender it, and to withdraw their influence from this field, where a good influence might effect so much. Many do withdraw, the battle against Satan is weakened, and those who would yet fight it out are thus often driven off, and definitively defeated. Some of our places of public resort are thus given up to vice, which might have been retained in neutrality, or even made serviceable to virtue. Not, perhaps, without contest, not without collision with sin, and contact with sinners, not without so much contamination and danger of contagion as the physician incurs among those that are sick. Neither yet would this thing be done by preaching, nor in any way suddenly, and by a brilliant effort, setting up some frail man in a great reputation, and a mighty glory of men. But by humble, and imperceptible, and constant efforts, mingling freely and kindly with men, and making yourselves what they are, furthering their innocent purposes, and turning aside their vicious ones, purifying all and marring nothing; by efforts like these, aided by those who would aid you, and would act unitedly and perseveringly by your guidance, you might carry out a great enterprise for your Master's service, and "be chiefest" in its execution, though you appeared but as the "servants of all." It is by reason of your dastardly abandonment of this service, that Satan now sits enthroned in many high places, fortified in many strongholds against which you preach an absurd crusade, after you have yourselves betrayed them to the enemy. Look, now, a moment, to take the strongest instance, at our theatres; what are they? and why? and what could they and should they be? for each of these questions deserves a separate answer. Some of them are always, and most of them are occasionally, mere schools of vice, scoffing, and profligacy, plague sores, where the evil humors of society run together, and fester, and infect the world. There every evil thing resorts to find its mate, encouraged by your advertisement, and by your assurance that nothing good will be there to war against the evil. The Christian soldier is warned by his officer to shun the battle, lest he should be hurt; he is warned not to touch the accursed thing, though it were to heal it, lest it should contaminate him. St. Paul could invoke not only danger, but perdition, for the sake of his brethren, but now each inquirer is bidden first of all to save himself. The talent is commanded back to the napkin; it may no doubt be rendered unprofitable, but it must, at all hazards, be kept clean. Therefore it is in a great measure, and perhaps entirely, that theatres are what they are. Denounced without warrant, but without stint, upon human commandments and traditions, the better part of their supporters has been thinned down to a minority, and the tastes of the worser portion prevail. Amusements will and must be; the craving for them is as natural as that for bread; we know they will be, and we believe, seeing that this impulse is part of our natures, which we cannot change, that we ought not to oppose it, but only to give it a salutary direction. The bad tastes might be raised and reformed, and even a theatre, profanely as much declamation has caused that name to sound, might become not innocent, only, but virtuous and useful. The representing imaginary or historical persons, with their passions and adventures, and their supposed language and demeanor, is an idea that involves no profanity, and may be perfectly separated from any. The loftiest and purest lessons might be taught so, and ought to be; such lessons ought

to be taught in every possible way; but here is an available instrument whose employment you prevent. If the people who now abjure theatres would take a position to influence them, what an important change might be produced? And the existence of some theatres where the decencies of life are yet observed, is owing to the want of efficiency of your exhortations, which, if fully successful in calling all the better classes away from them, would diminish or destroy the inducements to sustain good characters, and greatly increase the temptation to put on evil ones.

There must be amusements of some sort for a portion of our community, and of every community; and especially the younger portion. Of this fact the elder portion are very ignorant or neglectful; immersed themselves in business, and its cares and fatigues, and requiring no relaxation in their homes but repose, they too often require their children to live as they do, or deprive them of all opportunity of doing otherwise. They neglect to make their homes agreeable to them, and the children seek amusement elsewhere; and these amusements, which might be public, and then would be innocent, are persecuted into secrecy, and there they make companionship with vice. Here is a field for the clergy, a field of mighty promise-but no laborers enter into it; the clergy are the enemies of amusements, the denouncers of gaiety and relaxation; their presence, whether justly or not, is in most cases deemed the signal for cheerfulness to depart. If they bring this about unintentionally they are unskillful ministers; if they do it designedly, they seem to me to be erring ones. For if they will not mix with us in our amusements, and cannot in our business, where can they, except in our devotions? But these do not begin till the task is partly done which ought to be theirs. The patient, who comes to his physician, has already obtained the faith which makes him whole, but where are the blind and the lame? Business and amusement make up nearly the sum of our lives; whoever is excluded from both these can never know the world, nor the world him. He may be harmless as a dove by possibility; but that wisdom of the serpent, which is also enjoined upon the disciples, can only be learned in familiar intercourse with mankind. In meetings for religious purposes, or under a specific religious influence, one color pervades all characters, and all distinctions are lost. Every man appears devout and serious; every man is on his guard, and comes prepared, if his part be insincere, to play it well. He who wears religion as a mask, wears it, probably, a little thicker externally than he to whom it is the armor of righteousness; but the eye of man cannot penetrate, and ought, perhaps, not to penetrate either. Nothing can be learned of human character there; but in our daily walks, and daily intercourse; in our negotiations, combinations, and collisions; in our unguarded moments of surprise, lassitude, negligence, or temptation-upon these occasions it is that an observer might find out what we are, and how to lead us. For one man is not to be led by the same clue as another; nor is the guidance of a whole congregation a thing to be effected by sermons, addressed at once to all capacities and all dispositions. The individual man must be dealt with, if you would really make an impression. His prejudices must be understood before they can be subverted; his ignorance must be ascertained, before the right light can be chosen to dispel it; his passions studied, before you can know how to assail them. This is your task; the task appointed for your daily walks, un

seen, except of God; and leading to no glory of men, if you perform it with due humility, and that unperceived diligence which is essential to success. In this, as in all good works, the command laid on the Christian is secrecy; in these alms to men's souls, let not your left hand know what your right hand doeth. Then shall your light so shine before men, that they shall see your good works, but not see your hand in them, and thus only glorify your Father which is in Heaven.

It is a good sign, in these latter days, that all manner of men are beginning to interest themselves in religious matters; to discuss them freely, and to take their stands boldly against whatever prejudices, for what they believe to be the right. The pulpit has had too exclusive a privilege of preaching; there should be somewhere a voice appointed to make answer to it. It has gone on quietly for centuries, accumulating its own traditions; and has constantly increased its demands of reverence for them; being constantly stimulated to higher belief in its own infallibility, by finding itself always uncontradicted. It is not good for man to be thus absolute; he requires, for his mind's health, a pressure of public opinion, as his body requires the pressure of the atmosphere and of gravitation. When this is removed he ceases to distinguish right from wrong; he has no standard or sure footing on which to measure the strides of his fancy or his ambition; the whole machinery of his thought goes wrong, and his conscience often most of all. The Scripture, which should be his law, becomes his instrument; he prescribes it, indeed, as a law unto others, but proclaims himself as its interpreter; and claims even the right to decide what may, and what may not, be found in it. When, at last, he comes forward with a claim of Divine right and irresponsible authority, or professes to be responsible only to God, which a bold, bad man may, perhaps, believe in his heart is only another form for the same thing. But these words are new, and not good; they are, indeed, old in the annals of priestcraft; but not, in comparison with that Gospel which ordered these matters otherwise; for "Ye know, that they which are anointed to rule over the Gentiles, exercise lordship over them; and their great ones exercise authority upon them.

"But so, shall it not be among you; and whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister.

"And whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be the servant of all."

THE JESUIT;

OR THE AMOURS OF CAPT. EFFINGHAM AND THE LADY ZARIFA.

BY THOMAS W. WHITLEY.

PROLOGUE.

Zarifa, the daughter of a wealthy Spaniard, is with her father on a visit to St. Augustine. While there she becomes enamoured of Lieut. Effingham, of the American Navy. Her father, opposed to their union, sends for Morales, to whom he intends betrothing her. Morales arrives on the night on which they are to be privately married; Effingham is assassinated by bravos. The Lady and her Father escape. Zarifa, loving Effingham too tenderly, is in a situation of great delicacy; this discovery breaks the father's heart. By way of making amends to Morales for wrong done him, the father bequeaths his estate to him, on condition of Zarifa's refusal to marry him-if he (Morales) should desire their union-and provided no union takes place between Zarifa and Effingham within the period of five years from the date of his will. The time of the play is twelve hours. The scene is laid at Timulte, on the Tobasco river, in Mexico, during the arrival of the fleet of Commodore Perry.

MORALES and GONSALES seated at Play. Wine and Glasses on the Table.

Morales, (throws the dice.) Seven!

Gonsales, (throws the dice.) Ten! You've lost.

Morales, (rises.) Lost again! (comes forward.) Curse on my luckless stars! the veriest stripling at the board o'ermatches me! Scarce two weeks in the town, and yet a bankrupt, soon perchance to be a beggar; one chance remains alone to build my ruined fortune, and even that is doubtful! This night successful, to-morrow's sun sees me the wealthiest man in Cuba. (Pause.) If otherwise;-Morales wanders forth a villain and a vagabond!

Ha!

Gonsales, (counts the money, drinks, rises and comes forward.) ha! ha! The Church against the Jesuit! the humble friar (nudging Morales) 'gainst the prince of darkness! Well! well! 'tis as it should be! the Church doth best correct her erring children when she most af flicts them! How feel ye, noble sir? You bear your losses like a Christian, eh?

Morales, (laughingly.) Oh, yes! and often turns them to a good ac'Tis but a trifle, good Gonsales.

count.

Gonsales. I'm glad to hear ye say so; 'tis but a trifle, and by'r Lady