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family good morning, (for the lady of the house had during the conversation entered,) he escaped further torture.

"How do you do, Mr. Jones?" exclaimed a man who was ploughing in the field by the road side. Mr. Jones raised his eyes from the ground, for he had been walking along almost lost in thought, and kindly responded to his salutation. The farmer was a member of the church, active and useful, but want of humility, was his infirmity. Mr. Jones enquired of him respecting the state of religion, if there were anything of particular interest in his family, or among his neighbors.

"Why yes sir," said the farmer, "yes sir, I think things look more encouraging. My neighbors are more ready to talk upon the subject of religion than they have been for some time. It appears to me that all we want now is, forcible appeals to the heart. I know there are some persons who like doctrinal sermons, and I suppose they are important in their place, but the trouble of our folks is, that they know their duty but they won't do it. It is'nt enlightening that they want; it is'nt instruction, but melting appeals to the heart to make them feel. That is my view of the matter, Mr.Jones."

"There certainly is some good sense in what you say; but a man cannot feel unless he believes. We must convince a man of his danger, before he can feel it. We must convince him of God's goodness, before he can feel gratitude. All correct feeling must be founded on correct belief."

"True sir, true;" said the farmer; "but if I may be so bold, it appears to me you preach doctrinal sermons a little too much, Mr. Jones. I have been reading some of Whitefield's sermons lately and I am taken with them mightily; all heart sir, all heart. And only see how successful he was. It is really astonishing."

Mr. Jones continued the conversation a little while longer, to lead the man to more correct views of himself, and then went on his way. As he was passing the door of his aged Deacon, he thought he would stop in a moment and chat with him. The Deacon was eighty years of age, a man of old fashions, and deeply versed in theological lore. The good old man gave his Pastor a cordial greeting, for he loved him, but he thought the times were sadly degenerate. He took down from his shelf a musty old volume of sermons, preached some half century ago, and placing it in the hands of Mr. Jones, said :

"There is a very interesting volume, which I have been reading lately. It is a real treat to me to get hold of good old fashioned doctrinal sermons. The fact is, Mr. Jones, you

modern preachers are altogether out of the way. The doctrines are the very marrow of the Gospel. And it is doctrinal preaching that we want to enlighten the public mind. Now I have lived eighty years, Mr. Jones, and have seen the effect of all kind of preaching, and you may depend upon it, that the great thing needed is, to have men well indoctrinated. The public mind wants enlightening. It needs instruction. Now I like your preaching as well as any body's I hear in modern times; but I do think it would be a great improvement if you would preach doctrinal sermons rather more. Shan't I lend you this volume sir, perhaps you would like to look it over."

Mr. Jones smiled at the delicate hint which his good Deacon supposed he was giving, and taking the book endeavored to lead the conversation to subjects of practical godliness, and after uniting with the venerable Deacon in prayer, continued his parochial calls.

In the middle of this little village, there was a milliner's shop, where Mr. Jones occasionally called to converse with the females, whom he could see no where else. The front shop was arranged with articles for sale; and a little room behind it, connected by a door, was the sewing room of the females who made the millinery of the village. As Mr. Jones entered the door of the outer shop, he heard the voice of a female in the sewing room exclaim :

"Well, don't you think it is very improper, for a minister's wife to dress as Mrs. Jones does? Last Sabbath she had two large bows upon her bonnet, I do think it is inconsistent with the spirit of the Gospel, for Christian people and especially for minister's wives to be given to so much dress. It will do very well for world's people, but it is scandal for Christians to

act so.

"Why Mary," said another, "I was working last week at Mrs. Bentley's and she said that she thought it was too bad for Mrs. Jones to dress so meanly. She was finding fault with that very bonnet, and said that Mrs. Jones acted as though she thought there was sin in every pretty color. And you know Mrs. Bentley is not at all gay in her dress. She says Mrs. Jones is a lady and it is proper that she should dress as one, and she feels provoked to see her assuming such a demure appearance.

"Well," replied Mary, "I cannot help what Mrs. Bentley thinks, but I think that a minister's wife ought to avoid every ornament whatever, and if I have a good opportunity I shall make bold to tell Mrs. Jones my mind upon the subject."

Mr. Jones was a very unwilling listener to this conversation, and endeavored by walking about the shop to make a noise to attract their attention. But the inmates of the back shop were too much interested in their discussion to hear him.

He therefore quietly left the shop, and went on his way. He felt pained at heart to think that there was no possibility of pursuing a course, which some would make the occasion of confirming themselves in sin. He knew that his wife was ready to do any thing which she thought would promote the spiritual welfare of the people, and he walked along sad and disheartened to see how many obstacles were hedging up his way.

He walked home to his study, and felt discouraged rather than animated by his morning walk. He took up his pen to write, but it moved tardily and heavily along the paper as he thought, "there are not a few of my people, who will not be profited by written sermons." He laid aside his pen and endeavored to arrange his thoughts for extemporaneous address. But the ardor and the energy of his mind were paralized as he thought, there are not a few who would look with cold disdain upon such efforts, and who would exert an influence upon the minds of others to prevent the possibility of good.

He kneeled in prayer. "Oh God, it is my desire while I live to glorify thee. Wilt thou give me wisdom to pursue that course which is best adapted to do good in this place. My mind is disturbed and disquieted. Wilt Thou in mercy soothe it. I am undecided and perplexed. Oh make the path of duty plain. I hope, oh God, that I am willing to bear censure to take up the cross, but oh lead me that I may know what duty is, and that I may not spend my life in vain."

He was here interrupted by a tap at the door. He rose from his knees, and opening the door, admitted a parishioner who had been for some weeks absent from town.

"How do you do, Mr. Jones?" said the new visiter with a half smiling, half serious countenance. "I have come to tell you the good news from Harlem. I have been there for some time, and they have quite a revival of religion there."

"I thank you for calling," said Mr. Jones, "I understood there was more than usual interest in that place, and have felt anxious to hear from them."

"Oh said the visiter, they have a most precious minister there. He is the most faithful and active man I ever saw. He is all the time among his people; from morning to night visiting from house to house. It appears to me that such activity and zeal as he posseses must be suceessful any where. People

cannot be unconcerned when the importance of religion is urged so incessantly upon them in their homes."

Now the fact happened to be, that there was no particular interest in Mr. Jones' parish at that time, and he was not in the habit of spending his whole time in parochical visiting. He however paid no attention to these gentle hints, for he did not consider it necessary to enter upon a defence of his views of duty. His good parishioner supposed therefore that he had been rather too obscure in his hints, and was growing more and more personal in his allusions, when he was interrupted by the entrance of another visitor.

Mr. Henry, who last entered, was a gentleman of sincere piety, and of refined mind. He was fond of close reasoning and his sensitive feelings shrunk from every departure from good taste.

After the usual salutations, said he, "Well Mr. Jones, I had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Simpkins preach last Sabbath. He certainly is a most eloquent man. I never heard so thrilling a sermon in my life as he preached us yesterday. They say he is the most indefatigable student in the region. You always find him in his study. I understand he generally studies twelve hours a day. And now he has risen to be one of the most eminent men in the country. How wretchedly those ministers mistake it, who fritter away their time in running about from house to house. There is the minister of Harlem for instance; they say he is a very friendly man indeed and talks very pleasantly in the family, but it is no matter what text he takes, he always preaches the same sermon. Some of his people tell me they are going to dismiss him next year, for they must have a more eloquent preacher. After all, the men who live in the study and give all their energies to preparation for the pulpit, are the men who do the most good.

Now the fact happened to be with Mr. Jones, that though he loved his study, he did not feel it to be proper for him to spend his whole time with his books. He considered it important to give a considerable portion of his time, to parochical visiting.

It may well be supposed that the sentiments expressed by Mr. Henry, did not accord with those of the first visiter. They were immediately engaged in an ardent dispute. Mr. Jones smiled, as he listened a few moments to their contest, and then pleasantly suggested to them the propriety of embracing some other time and place for their discussion.

As they withdrew, Mr. Jones found his own mind lightened of its transient load, and with a cheerful heart he resolved as he had done a thousand times before, that he would do that which he thought right, and leave others to think and say what they pleased.

HOW OUGHT I TO KEEP THE SABBATH?

(Continued.)

For the Religious Magazine.

"The Sabbath was made for man." So we are told by one who well knew the design of God iu setting apart one day in seven, as a day of rest from worldly employments to be devoted to the offices of religion. The obvious import of this expression of the Saviour is, that the command requiring man to abstain from labor on the Sabbath and keep it holy, is not arbitrary and despotic, but that it was dictated by a kind and benevolent regard to the condition and wants of human nature. The fourth commandment was not intended to operate as an unnecessary restraint upon the ever wakeful energies and enterprizes of man, but rather to preserve in his various powers, moral, intellectual, and physical, a proper balance or proportion. Such a restraint as the Sabbath imposes, was seen to be requisite for the highest perfection of humanity in the present state. He who created man knew what he needed. He knew that his body would become worn and exhausted by labor—that his mind would become feverish by uninterrupted excitement in wordly pursuits that his affections would cleave inordinately to objects of sense that time would fill the whole circle of his vision and eternity be forgotten that he would thus come to the end of his probation prematurely, and be entirely unprepared for a state of endless blessedness and rest, if he were not required to spend an allotted portion of his time in rest from his ordinary employments, and in duties which should have a tendency to fit him for heaven. Looking at the subject only in relation to man in the present state, some of the most eminent physiologists of the day have declared their belief, that periodical seasons of rest are indispensible to firm health and long life. They have further said, that they believe the constitution of man requires him to rest one day in seven. The moralist

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