val of our absence to be indefatigable in the service of religion, but who, nevertheless, make no other use of us than an atheist would. Were you to see how these people spend that interval, running from church to church, following every popular preacher; out in the morning to hear this minister, again in the afternoon to hear another; hastening home and throwing a dish of tea down their throats in the greatest hurry that they may be out again in time to hear a third sermon from a third preacher; filling up all the intervals of public worship with incessant talk on religious subjects;—were you, Mr. Editor, to see all this, you would, perhaps, suppose, that when we returned to our stations, they would meet us in the same spirit that seemed to actuate them during our absence; and employ us for a while in offices similar to those in which they then seemed to be so zealously engaged; and so, indeed, do some of them, but not all. Not a few have I seen go about their worldly concerns the next morning, without performing one act of religious worship, and behaving through the whole term of my attendance as if they had exhausted themselves of all their piety in the exercises of the preceding interval Tuesday is ready to give a similar account of them. Indeed, all our family join in the same testimony; and Saturday, in particular, declares, that to the very last minute of attendance, they kept toiling on, in mere worldly concerns, without leaving off an hour or two sooner, as one might expect, in order to prepare for the proper reception of Sunday, who they know will be with them the next morning. You may suppose, that though the acts of religion be suspended after Sunday is goné, yet that the influence of religion remains; but we, who know how the persons in question live, can assure you, that notwithstanding appearances are so much in their favor once a week, they are actuated by the common principles of human nature, and yield as readily to the temptations of vanity, avarice, and even dishonesty, as those who never go within the walls of a church.

Though we are defrauded by these people of that religious honor which we ought to receive, and which might be given to us without any hindrance to other concerns, for the prose cution of which we are appointed; yet we do not accuse them

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of such degradation as we are obliged to submit to from other nands. Many of those, who are not uniformly religious, are nevertheless industrious; and we see their diligence applied to some useful purpose, though the one thing needful be not their predominant concern. But there are others on whom we are obliged to attend while they are engaged in employments the most frivolous; so that we may be said to be exhausted in doing nothing with a great deal of pains." We are employed, for instance, from morning till night by a young lady, (who, if properly trained during our attendance, might be rendered a useful character in this world, and a happy being in the world to come,) in occupations which have no important object. There must we attend for hours, while she is thrumming upon a piano-forte. Then comes the dancing-master, with whom another hour or two is consumed to as little purpose. Then we must attend her on a ride or walk, to inquire after the health of those about whom she cares nothing. After this we are employed at her toilette: we then go down with her to dinner, at which she sits much longer than is necessary to satisfy the calls of hunger. Hence we accompany her to some place of public entertainment, where we are kept to so late an hour, that we are in danger of jostling against one another: from this long attendance we retire, with the melancholy reflection, that we have not been employed in any one act of essential service either to this trifler or any one else.

We could furnish you with many other instances of this prostitution of our attendance by those, who with health, with wealth, with influence, and many other talents, do nothing, though surrounded with innumerable objects on whom those talents might be employed with incalculable benefit. Some of these persons, instead of accounting our attendance a favorable circumstance for the prosecution of any useful pursuit, are weary of it; lay plans for our destruction; and will even avow a murderous intention against all our family, by openly talking of “killing time.”

Do, Mr. Editor, endeavor to convince them of their fault: you well know how wretched some of them are: and endeavor to show them, that all their miseries spring in the first instance frem not considering that, though a period will ere long be put

to our existence, we bear a relation to eternity; and that, on this account, we should not be employed wholly in the affairs of this life. If this consideration do not affect them, remind them that they are accountable for our attendance; and that if they pervert its designation, the guilt will be great and entirely their own. We have never failed to be in our places at the appointed hour, and to stand ready to be employed to the best of purposes. The record of our punctuality is kept in the court of heaven, and there must they appear on whom we have attended, to answer for the use they have made of us.

To show you that we take no pleasure in complaining, we will conclude our address by informing you, that we are not universally treated in the manner above related. The true christian honors us with religious observance, though he employs us not wholly in it, as he does Sunday. We rejoice to see him rising from his bed, and bowing his knees to God in secret prayer. We see him then calling his family together, to join with him in the act of worship. Under the impressions of religion, and with a sweet composure in his countenance, we see him go about his secular business, and discharge it with diligence and fidelity. Nor does he part with us without performing the same acts of devotion, in which he was engaged in the morning. We have to attend him sometimes under circumstances, in which he is incapable of the duties of active life but even then he is not weary of us. He still smiles on us as he lies on the bed of sickness, and says, "All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come." We hear him sometimes lament, that he has not made a better use of us than he has done; but at the same time rejoicing on account of that grace which did not suffer him to let us pass without employing us in his greatest concerns. He is thankful, on many accounts, for our repeated attendance, but principally for its not having been discontinued before his heart was turned to God, and he was fitted for "that kingdom of heaven which Christ has opened to all true believers." Humbly relying on the merits and intercession of his Savior for that forgiveness, of which he knows he stands in need, he takes his leave of us with composure, and as we retire we hear him

say, "Lord, now lettest thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

Thus, Mr. Editor, may your readers live and die! and while they thus make a proper use of us, will they be found to have acted the wisest part towards themselves.

Signed, in behalf of all the working days of the week, MONDAY.

A WORD IN SEASON.

THE REV. Peter Mill, a zealous and venerable minister of the gospel, being on a pedestrian excursion in Yorkshire, (Eng.), came to the brink of a large pit, which was so completely covered with the drifted snow as to conceal all danger from the unwary traveller. Just at that imminent moment, when, had he stepped forward, it is more than probable he would have plunged into the gulf of death, a young woman coming up, discovered to him his perilous condition. Grateful to the First Cause of his deliverance, he was not unmindful of the instrument of it; and desirous of making her some important return for the service she had rendered him, he informed her that he was a minister of Christ, whose office it was to call sinners to repentance. And with much gratitude and earnestness, he exhorted her to flee from the wrath to come, entreating her seriously to consider that her youth was no security from death, and expressing a most ardent desire that he might be the means of saving her soul from the more awful pit than that from which she had been instrumental in saving his body.

What he said to her was "a word in season;" for, while gratitude sparkled in his eyes, and his countenance expressed more than his tongue could declare, she could not doubt the truth of his assertions; and such was the impression of his discourse on her mind, that she began earnestly to cry, "What must I do to be saved?" She soon obtained ease to her troubled conscience, and an assurance that her sins were pardoned. And about eight weeks after this, she died, happy in the con solations of religion.

MODERN CHARACTERS-No. III.

CAROLINE.

I

In a former paper I described the character of Mary. 1 propose now to trouble your readers with the account of Caroline-a lady of a very opposite description, whose piety, however, is also questionable, although, within her own immediate circle, she maintains some degree of credit for religion. If merely to differ widely from Mary were sufficient evidence of being a Christian, Caroline might unquestionably lay claim to that appellation; for she has renounced the outward pomps and vanities of the world; is much addicted to religious conversation; and is also zealous on the side of what she calls "the truth," -a term by which she means to denote those important doctrinal parts of Christianity which Mary mistakes or overlooks. Caroline, however, in her very views of doctrine, runs into some extremes, which shall be specified hereafter; and in her manner of promoting the cause of religion, she is violent and dogmatical, as well as hasty and imprudent. The hostility thus excited against herself, is assumed by her to be altogether against the Gospel-is dignified with the name of persecution-and is accounted one of her special marks of grace.

She is rather of a melancholy turn. She appears to be ever in quest of religious comfort, but does not find it.

She also disappoints you in the great article of Christian humility; for, not withstanding very profuse acknowledgments of her general vileness, she is apt to justify herself when you come to particulars; and, in spite of much seeming renunciation of her own righteousness and strength, she gives to common observers the idea of her being conceited and selfsufficient.

One source of the dislike which many people feel towards her—a dislike rising even to disgust in some fastidious and rather worldly individuals—is, a certain species of phraseology in which she abounds. By the use, however, of this phraseology, she gains credit in another quarter. She thereby de