I was amused with a writer, the other day, who, when speaking of the difference between superficial preachers, and those who go deeply into the meaning of the Holy Ghost, compared the former to the boys of apothecaries, who gather broad leaves and white flowers from the surface of the water; and the latter, to accomplished divers, who bring up precious pearls from the bottom of the deep.

"There is a difference," says an old divine, “between washing the face of a discourse clean, and painting it; the former is beautiful and commendable; the latter, sinful and abominable. Ministers must mind the capacities of their auditories, and not put that meat into their mouths which their teeth cannot chew, nor the stomach concoct. Their sermons of quiddities and school niceties may (in the opinion of giddy men) tend to their own praise, but never to their hearer's profit. Such men, when their children ask bread, give them stones, which may choke them, but will not nourish them. It is a pity he should ever teach school, that will not speak to his scholars so as that they may understand."

A late divine, though not so homely in his phraseology, is quite as severe in his remarks upon the wickedness of this soul-famishing and gospel-dishonouring preaching: "Indeed, what is more unbecoming a minister of Christ, than to waste his animal spirits, as a spider does his bowels, to spin a web only to catch flies; to get vain applause, by a foolish pleasing of the ignorant? And what cruelty is it to the souls of men! It is recorded, as an instance of Nero's savage temper, that in a general famine, when many perished by hunger, he ordered that a ship should come from Egypt (the granary of Italy) laden with sand for the use of the wrestlers. In such extremity, to provide only for delight, that there might be spectacles at the theatre, when the city of Rome was a

spectacle of such misery as to melt the heart of any but a Nero, was most barbarous cruelty. But it is cruelty of a heavier imputation, for a minister to prepare his sermons to please the foolish curiosity of fancy with flashing conceits; nay, such light vanities, that would scarce be endured in a scene, while hungry souls languish for want of solid nourishment.'

The only answer I can give to your closing inquiry is this: "We must not only strike the iron when it is hot, but strike it till it is made hot. Great occasions must not be waited for, but we must make use of ordinary opportunities as they may offer." Should a great occasion again offer, make the best use of it within your power; it is easy to hammer out iron when hot, but if circumstances are nothing more than ordinary, repeat the blow, and strike with power, nor give over till sinners are broken to pieces all around you, by the power of God. God bless you. Farewell.

Duty calls me away.

J. C.

A FEW days since, when reading the Memoirs of the late Mr. William Dawson, I met with the following anecdote. It is so applicable to yourself, and so appropriate as having occurred in this very town, and perhaps in the same chapel where your prejudices have been so greatly shocked, that I cannot well resist the impulse to send it you, although you may have read it before.

Mr. Dawson, it seems, was one day accosted by an individual, who said he had been present at a certain meeting; that he liked the preaching very well indeed, but was much dissatisfied with the prayer meeting; adding, that he usually lost all the good he had received during the sermon, by remaining in these noisy meetings. Mr. D. replied, that he should have united with the people of God in the prayer meeting, if he desired to retain or obtain good. Ŏ!"

said the gentleman, "I went into the gallery, where I leaned over the front, and saw the whole, but I could get no good; I lost, indeed, all the benefit I had received during the sermon." It is easy to account "How so?" in

for that," rejoined Mr. Dawson. quired the other. "You mounted to the top of the house, and on looking down your neighbour's chimney, to see what kind of a fire he kept, you got your eyes filled with smoke. Had you entered by the door, gone into the room, and mingled with the family around the household hearth, you would have enjoyed the benefit of the fire, as well as they. Sir, you have got the smoke in your eyes!"

I hope you will excuse the delay of my reply to yours; and that this will not render a few hasty remarks unacceptable or unprofitable. Your objections against revivals in general, and those in Leeds in particular, are somewhat original in classification and language, but not in idea, as the same things have been brought against revivals a thousand times over. It is not, however, impossible that you will say of my reply, what I felt strongly inclined to apply to your objections, "There is no new thing under the sun." We have had all these arguments, or rather prejudices, to meet and combat during our great revivals in America. Thank God! such have been the wonderful and glorious displays of the power of God, in these gracious visitations; and such the evi

dences of their divine origin, that the batteries of our opponents have been well nigh silenced; and we only hear the report of small fire-arms, now and again, after the Indian fashion, from behind some "denominational tree," or from the swamp of sin.

A few years ago, and at a time when the church of God in the United States was engaged in a mighty struggle for the salvation of sinners; when she was grappling with the powers of darkness, and with unconverted thousands, with tremendous energy, and amazing success; an ingenious dialogue came out from the press, which had a very good effect upon the public mind.

I am sorry I did not preserve the article. I have forgotten the precise language, but I can give you the substance of it. Some of the sentiments uttered by one of the characters, are, indeed, most foolish and irrational; nor would I insert them, but for the necessity of meeting those unreasonable objections proposed by yourself and other opponents of revivals. It was a supposed dialogue between the Prophet Elijah and an old Carmelite. The scene is laid upon the top of Mount Carmel; all around, as far as the eye can reach, is desolation. During three entire years and six months there had not been a single shower of rain. The streams and fountains are all exhausted and dried up. The hills, and mountains, and vales, and woodlands, trees, fields, and gardens are withered, -scorched as by the sweeping fire on a western prairie.

"The earth was made of iron,-heaven of brass;
And fissures in the soil were gaping wide

For the fresh rain that came not, herbs and grass
Fell sear and dead, and strown on every side
Were yellow leaves; and buds and blossoms died;
And Spring to Autumn turned, grey without fruit;
And night and day went round as wont, yet brought
No cheering interchange for hopeless thought.
No dews the eve, no mist the morning gave,

P

To slake the craving of the fiery drought:
Mildew, and death, and desolation wave

O'er parched hill and dale, like cyprus o'er the grave;
The wells and mountain springs were dry and dank,
And Canaan's face became a chaos and a blank!"

The herds have perished from the field, and multitudes of the inhabitants have slept their last sleep; the land is full of orphans and widows. This is a very bleak picture. Behold yonder mountain! near to its summit is a man; but he is prostrated upon the earth, pleading with God in behalf of the desolated country; it is Elijah the prophet. And, lo! beside him stands an old hard-hearted croaking Carmelite. Long has it been since a drop of rain has fallen from heaven upon his shriveled body; so long, in fact, that he has arrived at the same contentment (if not malignant joy) which many sinners in Zion feel, when they behold the moral landscape around them, unwatered for years by the reviving showers of grace from the throne of God; when the population of sinners is just in the same wretched condition, spiritually, as the material lanscape was around Mount Carmel.

The Carmelite stands in a very anxious attitude; as if deprecating the power of the prophet's prayer. (Indeed, the prophet had already told king Ahab, in the old man's hearing, "Get thee up, eat and drink; for there is a sound of abundance of rain.” 1 Kings xviii. 41.) At a distance is the prophet's servant, ascending a higher part of the mountain, in order to get a view of the sea; for his master had said, "Go up, now, and look toward the sea." Elijah has cast himself again upon the ground, with "his face between his knees"-a painful and humiliating posture; but perhaps not more so than the position chosen by many a minister of God, when pleading with God for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The