to its restraints; but it is a state of glorious liberty to the new man, which having received the spirit of Christ, delights to do His will. Now, let me read you a page out of an old author, which will explain this matter to you more fully than I can do. Leighton stepped over to a bookcase in the room, filled with ancient looking volumes: he selected one of large size, which Henry, peeping over his shoulder, perceived had been carefully read and marked. The following passage was interlined:

"There is no liberty to be found in forsaking the service of God. As soon as the angels had sinned against God and had thrown off the yoke of obedience, they put on the chains of bondage; they were in bondage to sin, and for sin. Every sinner is a captive-he cannot stir hand or foot in heavenly employments. A saint only walks at liberty-the service of God alone is freedom. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty; and a changing of the chains of slavery for an heavenly activity. None but saints can run the ways of God's commandments, and willingly wait upon their master; and hence it is that they alone can perform duties, either delightful to him or to themselves. The ways of obedience, which are torments to a sinner, are the pleasures of a saint. That which one counts his yoke, the other esteems his privilege, and knows not how to live without the daily performing of them. And how comfortable is their condition, in having their chains of guilt beaten off by Christ! As their services are, so is the treatment they receive from God,

which is that of sons, not of slaves and captives. They who were once strangers and enemies to God, are now his adopted children, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ; as such they render holy duties to their heavenly Father. Their services are without fear; whereas, others are all their lifetime subject to bondage. How are sinners mistaken in thinking that liberty is inconsistent with holiness! A saint loses nothing but his bonds and fetters by becoming holy: nor is holiness a chain to any but to those who know no other freedom than the house of bondage."*

Henry listened with much attention, while his friend read this passage, but did not seem inclined to carry on the conversation farther. Now, Leighton was one of those judicious people who never press the continuance of a subject longer than it appears to excite interest; and who was aware that when the most forcible points have been put forward, it is better to leave them to exercise their due power upon the mind, than to run the risk of diluting them by observations of less importance; he therefore, allowed the subject to drop, and prepared for retiring to rest, while Henry followed his example. Leighton read a psalm with his friend before they undressed, and the two young men then joined in social prayer. The night was calm, and all being still around,

These, and other passages of great force and beauty, extracted from old authors, are now republished in a valuable little work called " Time, and the End of Time."

enjoyments superior to any which are now wutun is reach. He then enlarged on the state of the inler compared with that of the original man, and argued that the fallen man must have a moral renovation fivat, before he can be fitted for a reinstatement in his former privileges.

"And what is the point, my friend," said Philip. to which your argument tends?"

"Jest to this, dear Philip: what our Lord said to Nicodemus, when he came to be instructed by him, Becept a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God. Nothing else, I feel assured, can restore the mind to true peace in this world, or make # me, for a heavenly inheritance in the next."

Philip felt inclined to ask Henry was he himself sure of waving been regenerated; but his acquaintance was too recent to permit him to put so close @quations but had he asked it, what ought to have been the reply? Reader, what do you think? Henry himself was far from being clear upon the suhject, and it is, therefore, no wonder if you should be a bude puzzled.

They arrived at the Park, rode across many silver streams, viewed the waterfall with much adation, and were preparing to return, when Henry if there were not some curiosities to be seen mansion. Philip said there were; and he led y down the great avenue to the entrance. Part e building was of very ancient date, and had

been repaired, with modern additions, by the late Lord G————, a nobleman of some genius, but considerable eccentricity. In front stood a massive archway, flanked with two gloomy turrets. Passing underneath, they entered a spacious court, surrounded by light airy looking buildings, containing the principal apartments of the castle. Some of these had porticos and verandahs in the Italian taste, and flights of marble steps from the court-yard led thence into the interior. Henry was a little surprised at the incongruities of architecture; but Philip told him that the present lord was such a transient resident, the style of his house was a matter of little moment, and made it scarely worth his while to undertake any expensive alteration. The whole building and its furniture, were therefore left in the same state in which they had been during the lifetime of his predecessors.

The young men now entered the grand saloon, and were amused with many specimens of the strange taste of the deceased nobleman. There were a few exquisite paintings of the old masters, but hung in company with those of such a very inferior order, that had they been put up as signs at the door of a country inn, no one would have deemed them dishonoured. China, in abundance, was piled in this spacious apartment, amidst busts of ancient philosophers, baronial helmets, pieces of armour, and the frippery of modern French furniture.

"that a

"Is it not strange," remarked Henry, nobleman of any sense or taste, should permit these incongruities to exist, for surely they must afford my

Henry slept soundly till about halfpast six, when he opened his eyes, and hearing a low murmuring sound, he drew the curtain gently aside, and perceived Leighton on his knees, with the Bible spread open before him, as if he had been seeking the divine light and assistance to understand the sacred word. Henry's conscience reproached him for continuing to slumber, while the vigilant soul of his friend had been awake, and calling on his God, perhaps for an hour before; and he immediately arose, dressed himself, and determined to be no longer behind-hand, but equal with him in constant prayer, and running the heavenly race.

So far Henry did well; but this quickness of feeling and action was but a trait in his natural character. Henry did not possess as much steadiness as promptitude, and therefore he made fewer advances in his Christian course than might have been expected. From natural temperament he was rapid in decision, whatever happened to be the impulse; but uncertain in perseverance, because it required a constraint upon himself whenever he disobeyed new impulses. Nature enjoyed the variety of new efforts, however severe, but revolted from the sameness of persevering duty, however easy. Henry was, therefore, not to judge of his Christian career and advancement by the energy of present feelings, because his nature was energetic, but by patient continuance in well-doing; because grace alone could give him constancy and endurance. Perhaps there is no better method for any Christian to ascertain how he stands