conviction of the truth, which, with the blessing of Almighty God, shall burst in upon thy mind!"

"I refuse not to hear thee with patience," said Maturus, "but I forewarn thee I shall not become the ready disciple thou art willing to expect. I can never believe in the doctrines of one who was crucified, or put my faith in the assertion that he lived again, after he had been nailed to the cross! It is a deception !-Where did this astonishing event take place, that none of us have before heard of it? Did this Teacher of thy religion die publicly, sayest thou?"

"Publicly!" answered Attalus; "and I may add, recently." "Why was he put to death?"

"Because the Jews, his countrymen, rejected his religion. No approach to vice or immorality was ever charged upon him. Our governor, Pilate, would have released him, but the Jews asserted that by their law he ought to die, and vehemently demanding that he should be crucified, Pilate at length assented."

"Thou art tolerably well read in the history of thy Master," said Maturus; "but who put him to death? Can it for a moment be imagined that there was no connivance with those bigoted and intolerant Jews, his countrymen!"

"Impossible! He was put to death in the presence of the Roman soldiers, who watched his body, at the request of the Jews: for his own countrymen were his mortal enemies.

"It is strange that Octavius has never heard of this wonderful story, residing as we both did so long at Rome, and he inquisitive on all subjects!"

"I can tell thee the reason," said Attalus. "Our Master was poor, and his disciples were not richer than himself. Judæa is far distant from Rome, and the Jews, as thou art aware, are not only a jealous and haughty, but a despised and almost detested race. Consider, too, the perpetual wars that have been waged against them; but, most of all, that as they are contemned and insulted by the Romans, so they themselves hold every people under heaven in abhorrence. Nevertheless, I doubt whether Octavius is altogether ignorant of the fact. But every thing except the Divine favour conspires to check and subdue Christian zeal, and prevent the spread of our holy religion. will not be always thus !"

It

"I cannot believe these things," said Maturus. "Not yet," replied Attalus; "but should we both survive the approaching contest, perhaps thou wilt listen to me again."

"That I will cheerfully promise, my friend; and though I can never become a Christian, yet, for thy sake, I shall feel less hatred towards the followers of Christ. Our conversation has at least soothed our feelings, and we have not been disturbed by the enemy: they must wait for the dawn of day, for they dare not proceed to any affair of moment, I am told, without one of their inhuman sacrifices! Their religion, Attalus, is worse than thine !"

"May God forgive thee!" exclaimed the Christian.

They parted; walked their rounds till relieved by other sentinels; and then retired to their tents to seek a short and uncertain repose.

CHAP. IV.

Let us now return to the family circle at Lyons, and record the surprise and gratification with which Eusebia, and even Flavia, listened to the acknowledgment of Claudian, that he was desirous of placing himself under the care of the skilful Alexander. Soon was an intimation conveyed to the Christian physician; and all the members of the family exhibited the same eagerness to receive and converse with so extraordinary a man.

The astonishment of Alexander himself was not less, when the unexpected summons arrived; for he well knew the importance of this Gentile family: he was not ignorant of their rank and estimation among the inhabitants of this city; and he could not doubt that they were acquainted with the fact of his being a despised and insulted Christian. For a moment he hesitated: the brethren were continually liable to be ensnared by the duplicity of their Heathen foes; and there might, perchance, be some secret design. But no: Claudian, though a supporter of the reigning idolatry, was an honourable man, and his character raised him above suspicion. With this conclusion he besought the blessing of God, and hastened to the discharge of his duties.

Alexander was in every respect well qualified for the task he was now about to undertake. He had travelled far, and seen much of mankind. A Phrygian by birth, as we have said, he displayed in his character all the better qualities for which his countrymen were remarkable, without their effeminacy; and his skill and acquirements would no doubt have been fairly estimated, had not the superstitious cry, "He is a good man, but he is a Christian!" been raised against him. But he had long been ranked among the number of the faithful, and had learnt to disregard public reproach: his heart was too deeply imbued with the spirit of the Gospel to return evil for evil: he was too grateful for the privileges he enjoyed, to put them in competition with any thing the world could bestow; and he would rather have parted with his life than denied his religion! Well, therefore, might he be surprised and delighted at the opportunity which had thus presented itself, unsought, of being admitted to confidential intercourse with an enlightened Heathen family.

His

He was now on his way; while Eusebia and Flavia, seated by the couch of Claudian, were silently meditating on the event, still indulging their unfounded apprehensions, and considering in what way it behoved them to conduct themselves towards a "Christian." general character and manners, no less than his profession, entitled him to respect, but that respect must be paid with caution and coldness; nor must they permit him to converse on any other subject than that of Claudian's infirmity. Such was their mutual resolve: but had they more justly estimated the powers and habits of the man, they would have troubled themselves less in deciding on the preliminaries of their approaching conversation; for he was too well acquainted both with others and himself, and he too well knew the importance of securing their esteem, either to exceed his duty, or discharge it imperfectly; while, if it were necessary, he could display far more power than themselves in repressing or encouraging any subject of conversation

whatever. Indeed, they had yet to learn his character from himself, and to discover that even a Christian might be endeared to their hearts, and find a place in their affections.

They had scarcely arranged these particulars, which were in their estimation of so much importance, when he was introduced to their presence, and stood by the side of the aged and helpless Claudian. And now, the best and kindliest feelings of their nature were immediately called forth, as they witnessed his solicitude for the recovery of his patient. They stood and gazed upon him in silence and with gratitude, as he removed the fears of Claudian, and predicted his speedy restoration. Before he took his departure, they even forgot that he was a " Christian;" and their reserved and distant manner was unconsciously laid aside when they expressed a command rather than a wish that he might speedily renew his visit. Claudian himself seemed already half restored by the soothing attentions and encouraging anticipations of his adviser; and even the young Ponticus partook of the general delight, though he scarcely knew by what means so sudden a change had been effected.

After this, as day after day passed on, and the visits of Alexander were repeated, Claudian grew better in health, and became more cheerful in spirit. If an unusual gloom clouded his mind, or he suffered from bodily pain, Flavia would apprise him that the "Christian" would soon arrive to afford him consolation. If fears for the safety of the young soldiers disturbed his habitual serenity, Eusebia would remind him of the cautions and suggestions of Alexander; and Ponticus himself, aware that there was some secret charm in his presence, anticipated with pleasure the daily visits of the kind-hearted physician, and always hastened to announce his approach.

Often did Alexander, in his turn, meditate on the interesting characters and engaging manners of his newly-acquired friends; and the wish naturally arose in his mind, that their attachment to idolatry might be overcome, and the light of Christian truth shine on their souls! The wish, continually indulged, appeared to him at length capable of being accomplished; and he regarded himself as the means appointed to bring this Gentile family into that fold of which Christ is the Shepherd!

With this impression on his mind, he sought the advice and counsel of Pothinus, the venerable bishop of the city of Lyons, by whom he was encouraged in his design, and recommended to improve his advantages; first securing their affections, and then enlightening their understandings. "It may be well," said the aged bishop, "rather to inspire them with hope, than subdue them by fear."

These were Alexander's own views: but he had also obtained the opinion of Sanctus, a zealous deacon of the church. Sanctus expressed himself in a different strain, and urged his friend to begin with some vehement denunciation. "They may perhaps be dismayed by this means," said he; "but, inveterate Heathens as they are, be assured they will never be won over by persuasion!"

Álexander took the course which his own understanding directed, and now anxiously waited for some favourable opportunity of introducing the subject of religion; in the mean time, indulging the wishes of Claudian by conversing on topics of general interest. Sometimes

they discoursed on the affairs of the state, and sometimes on the respective merits of the great and wise men who were the ornaments of the empire: but the war in Britain was a never-failing subject of interest, and one in which every member of the family was alike concerned. To these friendly discussions Eusebia and Flavia would listen with untired delight; and their attention became every day more and more absorbed. Hitherto they had partaken of all the pleasures, and enjoyed all the luxuries, of a large and populous city; and from their station, wealth and influence, gratification had courted their acceptance, and amusement was ever at hand when they were tired of the seclusion of domestic life. Never till now had they found leisure for serious reflection, or been obliged to depend for amusement on their own resources; and never till now had they so fully experienced the happiness of unreserved intellectual intercourse. But the declining health of Claudian, and the absence of Octavius and Maturus, had shut them out from the concerns of a busy and thoughtless world, and opened to them all the treasures of their peaceful home: they could now derive unmingled happiness from that very solitude which they had hitherto avoided; and they passed their time without tedium or regret, listening to the conversation of Alexander, and looking forward with delight to the recovery of Claudian.

"Christianity must be something very extraordinary!" said Flavia, after one of the daily visits of their friend; " but I cannot think that Alexander would be so reserved and cautious, if it were not either some wild superstition or some absurd delusion. If the one, well may he hesitate to disclose its deformity: if the other, he is no doubt ashamed to exhibit its folly. In any case, I should be glad if he would afford us an opportunity of making some inquiries on the subject: but he may perhaps design to pay us respect and deference, by carefully avoiding it: for he well knows that we should scorn any system adapted only to the mean and vulgar."

"Yes; I perceive that I am right in my conjectures," answered Eusebia, "and that you will not rest satisfied till Alexander shall have laid before you all the peculiarities of this strange and wonderful superstition. Be upon your guard, however: forsake not the gods of your fathers: you know not the danger you may incur even by introducing the subject. Remember the degradation to which Alexander himself is exposed, when it is said, 'He is a Christian! Be upon your guard, I entreat you, and forsake not the forms of our own established worship. I too would listen; but I have a secret dread of the result!"

Flavia smiled at the assumed gravity, as she thought, with which her friend had addressed her; and the conversation terminated.

SOME PARTICULARS OF DR. JAMES FORDYCE.

SIR, Philadelphia (U.S.), June 15, 1839. IN consequence of what appeared in the Christian Reformer for last March (VI. 142, 143), respecting Dr. James Fordyce, I now transcribe an account of him, written by a person whom he had discarded on account of his bad character and which appeared in a peri

odical; premising that, under such circumstances, the author could not feel any inclination to be too lavish in his encomiums.

66
"DR. FORDYCE.

"This preacher has an undoubted claim to originality. Possessed of great extempore powers, a rich imagination, a copious flow of language, a polished and correct taste, and the art of delivering himself with a natural dignity and emphasis, he has, not improperly, been styled the Cicero of preachers, and his meeting-house the temple of Eloquence. Qualities thus singular and eminent were calculated to make a general impression. In every art and profession, real merit uniformly accumulates fame and admirers. For years, no place of worship was ever attended by a more splendid, a more crowded, or a more regular audience than this. The pews, the areas, the doors, and even the entry, were filled with people of the genteelest appearance, and all the adjacent streets and passages were quite choked or blocked up with carriages. This congregation, however, diminished as insensibly as it increased. Not all the abilities and address of, perhaps, one of the first and most excellent preachers in the world. could preserve such a concourse of people for any length of time. The Doctor knew the world too well to be much disappointed or chagrined. In truth, he owed all his distinction to the superiority of his parts. His feelings were not of a kind to assimilate with those of a mob. He has been loaded with imputations of pride, as if he deemed it beneath him to be familiar with his auditory. Nor will we affect to acquit him of a stateliness which does by no means suit the situation of a Dissenting minister. It is certainly no part of his practice to sneak about from house to house, to pry into the secrets of families, to make himself busy with the secular concerns of his congregation, to cajole the higher and despise the lower of his followers, to gather every personal anecdote of every individual, and become an abettor or retainer of private scandal. To this most pitiful and ignoble mode of making and keeping proselytes, he was not addicted. He has oftener than once declared he would not share that man's purse who refused him a corner in his heart. He is much too eminent not to be envied and traduced. Many of the most liberal and learned of his brethren among the Nonconformists have long regarded him with a shyness and aversion that reflects but little honour on their party. His congregation, however, among whom he has spent many of the happiest years of his life, still love and respect him with much sincerity. His parting with them on the present season must be a very tender and affecting one: they will long remember his services with gratitude; and he was a man whom, taken all in all, they will not find the like again."

The funeral sermon on the death of Dr. Fordyce, by his successor, the late Dr. James Lindsay, and from which the biography in the Supplement to the Edinburgh Encyclopædia (American edition) is chiefly taken, gives an equally favourable estimate of the Doctor's personal and professional character. In addition to all this, from a near and justly much-respected relative, who was a member of the Monkwell-Street congregation about half a century, not only was all the preceding confirmed, but other particulars were learned: e. g. A member of Dr. Lawrence's congregation, while in Scotland on busi