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MICHAEL MAURICE.

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path has seemed plainer than it did before, and I have been favoured to refer good things and good thoughts more distinctly to the only source of good, with fewer of those horrid doubtings that have so long chained me to earth or rather to hell. Teach me, O God! still to wait in patience, and at this moment I feel that I shall one day attain through Thy grace to light and liberty. Yet even now I suffer from the presentiment of a return (nay, of many returns) of my old enemies. O Father!

. do Thou enable me to drag them from their stronghold, and so shall they be annihilated in the light of Thy countenance within me.

I had derived encouragement from observing that the state of mind in which I now am has been growing upon me for the last year or more, and therefore that it is not a mere morbid product of external impulses.

Yesterday my dear old friend Michael Maurice took his departure from the town, and if it were not likely that I should soon leave too, I should have been quite melancholy at the circumstance. I became acquainted with him when I was eighteen years old, just after I had undertaken the secretaryship of the Anti-Slavery Society. Since then we have become intimate, very intimate, and his kindness to me has always been like that of a most affectionate father. For real devoted kindness, for always thinking of every one's welfare before his own, I have not known his equal; and if I

I ever in my future lise meet with a friend like him, it will never be in the power of the other to show me the same persevering and considerate love, overlooking age and every other difference.

Shortly after the commencement of my acquaintance with him, I was introduced to his son. At that time I

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was attempting to make myself a utilitarian and something else that I dare not name, and was most affected and pedantic in my tastes. F. D. M. was instrumental in teaching me that I was wrong, and reintroducing me (so to speak) to myself, the self of reality and childhood. My mind is not yet sufficiently settled for me to be able to put what he did for me into an expressible form; but I feel that he was true and kind, and I look on his friendship as one of the happiest events of my life.

Let the modern Quaker read Fox's Journal, and observe carefully how few of its pages are not occupied with matters that all the Church of Christ would think equally good and important.

A change of heart, “the new man,' shifting of the will from one state to its opposite, a change so great that nothing material can be compared to it, is what is meant by becoming a Christian. Our notion of identity is confounded in the magnitude of the transformation. No plastering over, no patching up will do, but all things must become new.

Sixth or seventh day I expect to go to London. I feel by no means confident that my prospects there will come to anything, but I begin to feel trust that all will be right.

11th month, 25th.— I spent last first day with my dear friends Maurice at Reading on my way home from London. It was a delightful day, and I thanked God for giving me such friends.

12th month, 31st.—Before the end of the year which begins to-morrow, I may be a bookseller at Holborn Hill. The future is dark before me, but Thy will, O

. Lord, be done!

CHAPTER IV.

1836,

QUAKERISM-GROWING DISSATISFACTION WITH THE

SOCIETY-DEPARTURE FROM SOUTHAMPTON-PARTNERSHIP WITH DARTON.

1st month 25th, 1836.-As the enjoyment of the present is too much an object of idolatry to the sensual worldling, so is it often too much an object of contempt to the Christian. It is a temptation common to human nature, which shows itself both in Christians and the many who are led on in various paths by the ignis fatuus of earthly ambition, to keep their eyes fixed on something future, without being careful that at the moment which is present they are taking a step towards it, and their end becomes like his who, steadfastly looking up at the stars, fell into a deep pit. Thus, in those who have declared themselves to be pilgrims to the heavenly Jerusalem, too many go mourning on their way, neglecting to give God thanks for the many lovable objects which surround them, and allowing their minds to be taken up with a vague notion of the future, not consciously realising what their Redeemer has declared is within them.

1st month, 28th.-Never will it be known to any but the Searcher of hearts what sufferings I have endured during the last few months. My thoughts have been like the dogs of Scylla when I have bad thoughts, but often smoky phantoms have been passing through my mind, all doubting, each one doubting of his predecessor.

If I dared to say what medicine was likely to be the means of healing me, I should say some undertaking or line of occupation in which a sense of duty and my ruling tendencies might work together.

What would I give to be able to converse with F. D. M.! I think he has endured something akin to it, with the difference that would be occasioned by greater powers and more cultivation.

Not that I expect anything from human aid, but human sympathy is always delightful, and I scarcely ever conversed with him in vain. He has already been an instrument of much good (or rather what ought to be good) to me, and I should look to him for the same now.

1st month, 29th.—My mind is in a healthier stateI have felt the sweet influence of prayer.

I am now more sensible of the objects which occasion me pain and difficulty at the present time than I was yesterday, and I look at them with composure and see them to be in the hand of Providence. Is there not a state of emotion in which the object that excited it becomes lost to the consciousness, like a spark is lost in the flame which it has kindled, when it ceases to be an object and becomes a part of our being? Is this what I have felt, and does it bear any real resemblan to what Shelley describes as the effect of steadfastly looking at a beautiful object, as the moon

· Whose intense light narrows
In the white dawn clear,
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there:'

TRUE MEASURE OF TIME,

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The only man that need make time an object of his thoughts (so far as practical purposes go) is the sluggard. To the healthy mind, enjoying proper freedom, it ought scarcely ever to suggest itself. At the beginning of an undertaking of whatever kind we ought to be slow and deliberate, only taking pains that every step is made with the utmost care. True despatch will be the result of tension of mind, of singleness of purpose, never of the will to be in a hurry. While the mind is girding up its loins, be careful that your thoughts have at each individual moment a well-defined centre, as small, as much of a monad, as may be, never taken away from its real relations, but always held distinctly above them. It may be hoped that this will at length become a habit, into which the mind will fall by instinct, and it may then cease to be a direct object of consciousness.

Sundials and clocks and watches are useful things, but they are far enough from being true measurers of the life of a wise man. They are meant for the vulgar, for our bodies, when we are to meet each other at a given hour, but never for our spirits, except we be sluggards, and then only to frighten us by showing us little bits of our past lives by way of specimen. The wise man will act as if he had an eternity to work in, and the notion of time will never occupy his thoughts for any practical end.

When George Fox heard men addressing those above them in rank and those below them in a form of speech essentially different and conveying a notion of contempt for the latter, he judged that it was an unrighteous insult to man, that it was an infraction of the command of the inspired apostle, “honour all men.' He bore a

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