him to quit his distant country abode, and visit the great metropolis, and other cities, under the patronage of this eminent and illustrious woman. 1 stay not to make reflections on this first period of Mr. Wills's life and ministry: his eminent usefulness and indefatigable labours are well known. Some have censured him for leaving so fruitful a field; but we should allow every good man to think for himself, and ought to give him credit for the purity of his motives; many of which can only be known to himself. Certain it is, his flock parted with him with many tears, and his memory lives among them respected and beloved. He now launched out into a wider field of labour. He was a ready and pathetic preacher. Everywhere he was heard with attention; and the relation in which he stood to her Ladyship, put particular respect upon him. In this epitome it is impossible to follow the course of his labours through England and Wales, in many journies north and south, preaching everywhere, often out of doors, with many thousands under the canopy of Heaven, singing the loud praises of our God. The numerous chapels of her Ladyship he often visited; and many, in a variety of places, have reason to bless God for his labours among them. His travelling expences were borne by her Ladyship. A small salary was added, but his chief support was from his own income; and I may venture to assert, that when he left her service, in point of fortune, he was even poorer than when he entered it. Lady Huntingdon was too wise to purchase any man's services; and could place little dependence but on those who counted their work their wages. Never was so extensive a connection maintained at an expence so comparatively small. Her assistants were willing labourers; and I could produce, to their honour, those who served for many years with their whole hearts, that never bore from her Ladyship's service a shoe-latchet of earthly advantage. Mr. Wills's situation and employments gave him particular weight; and the length, as well as the constancy of his labours, seemed to fix him in his situation; but the very distinction he enjoyed tended to produce effects, which were ultimately to separate such endeared friends and relatives. As he was in office, and held in honour, he probably felt himself of importance, and thought he might advise and act, with a freedom that Lady Huntingdon chose not to admit. She was conscious of the purity and simplicity of her own motives, and had seen her plans plans and efforts crowned with such success, that she was not disposed to alter her own purposes, or to brook contradiction. This disposition in each had been secretly undermining the cordiality and confidence which had subsisted, when a difference of opinion respecting a measure proposed, grew into a breach, and ended in a separation. Both rest in their beds of death, and are doubtless entered into glory there all differences are closed, and they rejoice together. It however may afford a useful lesson on the necessity of mutual forbearance and submission one to another: the blessing of being lowly in our own eyes, however exalted by usefulness; and the wisdom of yielding, where the contrary spirit and conduct bring so much vexation and trouble to the unbending. This third period of Mr. Wills's life led him to proceed in his usual career of labour, but in another line; for his heart was set upon his work; and if one door was shut, he hesitated not to enter at another, where his services might attain the same object; and the Master, whose he was and whom he served, be glorified in him and by him. For this end, he took a chapel in Silver-street, another in Grub-street, and afterwards one at Islington; in all which he preached with his usual energy, and with great acceptance; making occasional tours into the country, in various directions, everywhere esteemed and valued for his work's sake. In these employments, the latter years of his life were usefully spent, though his circle was more contracted; and, with some transient indispositions, he pursued his great object. He grew larger in person, and his health began to suffer. He sat to preach, when he was unable to bear the fatigue of standing. A paralytic affection attacked him. He lost a friend whom he highly valued, which much affected him. His eyes began to fail: an evident imbecility of mind, as well as body, advancing, compelled him to quit the work of the ministry, and to make trial of his native air, if it would afford him any relief. With this view, he retired into Cornwall, to the house of an old friend at Boskenna: there he lingered for a considerable while, under a complication of disorders, utterly incapable of ministerial fabour, and only waiting his approaching dissolution. He was delivered from the burdens of the flesh May 12th, 1302, in the G3d year of his age; and resting from his labours, his works do follow him. Unacquainted with the exercises of his mind during his tedious confinement, and not being present at the closing VOL. X. Rr scene, the writer can only express his confidence, that He who had begun the good work, would perfect the same. When palsy and its infirmities supervene, the mind is often equally affected with the body: it is no more the same man. The spirit is already entombed in the corruptible mass, and its agency interrupted. The state is independent of the sensations which may then distress, or agitate. The compassionate High-Priest can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. This is designed but as a sketch ;-probably some friend, who has been more conversant with the latter state and circumstances of the fallen Standard-bearer, may furnish his Obituary. THE BEGGAR. IT I was a fine evening, and we had been for a walk to enjoy the sweet breeze, and admire the departing sunbeams. We had crossed the lawn in our return, and were come to the church-yard gate-my friend Eusebius, his daughter Phebe, her cousin Sephia, and myself. Here a Beggar accosted us-his hair was white with the snows of fourscore winters, and his gait decrepit. Phebe, the moment that she saw him, prepared a trifle to drop into his hat; but her cousin, who had lier arm, withdrew her on the other side, with a frown:-"I hate beggars,”—said Sophia. My friend Eusebius perceived the whole; Phebe looked wishfully, and wiped a starting tear with her handkerchief. We were just behind-Eusebius knew her heart, and acted for her. We stopt to hear the old man's tale.-It was short-he was old,-past labour,-had no friends, and so forth. My friend (who always carries a few Tracts in his pocket) wrapped our little benefaction in a short address "To the Aged," and left it, with a request that he would get somebody to read it to him. Gratitude glistened in his eyes-mutual blessings were exchanged, and we passed on. In consequence of this delay, the ladies were within doors before us. Eusebius affected to chide Phebe for passing by on the other side-a thing she was not accustomed to do, when Misery was near. She was silent, unwilling to accuse her cousin; but Sophia was touched to the quick. She confessed it was her doing-that she had no pity upon common beggars, and thought it very low to notice theinalluding to our stopping. Eusebius Eusebius drew a chair next Sophia, and addressed her very closely." Nor I neither, Miss," said he, "when there is ground to suspect imposture: but grey hairs teli no lies; and that man's hands have evident marks of labour: he was not born to an estate, and hard work seldom gets one. For my part, I consider the industrious poor as a blessing to the country; and, indeed, what could we do without them? "The King himself is served by the field;" and most of our temporal comforts, and even necessaries, depend upon that class of people. Nay, they are bequeathed to us as a legacy by our dying Lord :-"The poor ye have always with you. Superbia was much affected, and Eusebius perceiving it, turned the conversation. "Sir," said he, addressing me, "this subject interests me in another view. I am myself a Beggar, and live upon the alms of my Divine Benefactor. I am obliged to beg my daily bread, and feel I cannot live an hour independent. For what are all my possessions?” "Riches make to themselves wings and flee away:" and Job's history teaches me, that were they a thousand-fold as great, woe to me if I were to "trust in uncertain riches!" But if in temporals, much more in spiritual things am I a Beggar; and that without the pleas and excuses that beggars generally make. I cannot say my poverty is undeserved-I cannot plead the merit of my industry-I cannot promise that I will beg no more--on the contrary, I expect to spend all the remainder of my days a Beggar at the gate of mercy. "No hand, no heart, O Lord, but thine PHILO. ON SCRIPTURAL EVIDENCE OF A STATE OF NOT SALVATION. OTHING invigorates the steps of the weary traveller like a certainty of being in the right path to his longed-for home, and a consciousness that every fresh exertion brings him nearer to a happy termination of his course. So the Christian, if assured that he is in the only way of salvation, cheerfully endures the length and hardness of the road, and patiently makes head against the storms he has to sustain; counting all present afflictions as light and momentary, and therefore not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed. How much, therefore, are to be regretted obstacles that prevent the sincere believer from making sure his calling and election, and from attaining to the full enjoyment of that hope by which we are saved! Yet, on no subject docs there appear to be a greater variety or opposition of opi nions, than upon the evidence of a state of Salvation. Copious volumes have been written, and numerous sermons preached upon this topic; the chief use of which has been to excite believers to earnest enquiry, rather than to satisfy their doubts, or to dispel their fears. Many persons regard all claim to assurance of salvation, as presumption or enthusiasm. Others, even of the most opposite parties, assert, that no one who entertains a doubt of his state, can be a real Christian. Some profess to have attained to full assurance, whose general temper and conduct are inconsistent with the faith of God's elect. Others, whose outward practice adorns the doctrine of God our Saviour, live in perpetual despondency and distress of mind. What shall we say to these things? Various temperaments of the animal spirits have doubtless no slight effect upon this part of the Christian's experience: but error on either side proves, in its degree, ignorance of the Scriptures, and of the power of God. If real believers cherish despondency, or others a groundless confidence, it must be either through misapprehending the nature of the genuine effects of faith, or through neglect of bringing their own spiritual state to the proper test. In each case, the Apostle's exhortation and reproof are applicable :-" Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your ownselves: know ye not your ownselves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ?" Various are the passages of Scripture, which exhibit the marks of a renewed state; but all of them agree together, and centre in one point. There is perhaps no declaration more express or positive on the subject, and yet none that has been less improved for this purpose, than the solemn description given by our Lord of the Day of Judg neut, in the 25th chapter of Matthew, from the 31st verse. It appears to me to be in part figurative; but its direct tenor requires us to consider the distinction there made, between the characters of them who are saved, and of them who are finally condemned, as being literal and decisive. This distinction consists in affording on the one hand, or withholding on the other, the relief, of whatever kind, that we see persons, who are truly the people of Christ, although they may be |