now reaping the fruits of the dying blessing of his pious ancestor. For a long series of years the blessings of the dying grandmother seemed to be lost upon her favourite grandchild. He was early left to himself to walk in the ways of his heart, and in the sight of his eyes."

During the American revolutionary war, Fishkill village and its vicinity, was in a considerable degree a place of encampment and of much military business. This circumstance, which proved the ruin of many, no doubt contributed its full share to Mr. B.'s irregularity and dissipation. Fifty three years he lived in the steady and uninterrupted practice of all manner of sin and wickedness; and for as much as thirty years of that time, he further disgraced himself and family, and wounded the feelings of his numerous and respectable connexions, by habitual drunkenness. He was literally a pest to all who knew him. His heart and his tongue were full of cursing and bitterness. He was looked upon as the greatest miscreant then known. His presence, especially when he was intoxicated, was almost as much dreaded as the pestilence; for where he appeared, thence immediately fled all peace and tranquillity. The poison of his unbridled tongue kindled strife, anger, and wrath ; and often has the rage of those whom he had provoked inflicted chastisement both severe and unavailing. Having involved his family in distress, and having repeatedly invaded the peace of his neighbours and connexions, he at times became desirous to reform his life; and he thought if he could but "get rid of that cursed thing drunkenness, (I use his own words here,) he would do better." The legion of evil spirits had, however, too firm possession of his heart, to be dislodged by human resolution and strength. The first idle moment, the sight of a bottle-companion, or the temptation of a tavern, disarmed all

his courage, and put to flight the whole host of resolutions he had mustered for his defence.

His many and repeated excesses, made him pass through several trying and severe vicissitudes. These exposed him to temptations of the most alarming nature; so much so, that more than once he formed a resolution to murder the man who, he imagined, had done him much harm. Nothing externally, but the want of a favourable opportunity, prevented it. Now he confesses, that a secret and hidden power arrested his arm, and saved him from blood-guiltiness. Although a child of Satan, and an heir of destruction, as far as enormity and crime could carry him, he was yet in the eye of God one of his elect. Though he seemed afterwards to be as "one born out of due time," he was in due season, to be exhibited as a monument of free and unmerited grace, to show forth that faithful saying, which is worthy of all acceptation, "that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-the chief of sinners."

I must not here forget to mention, that to all his other sins, he added that of bitterness against religion and its professors. These invariably experienced the venom and ridicule of an unhallowed tongue. His wife, (who is still living,) had undergone a change of heart sometime before his conversion; but she had to pray, as well as mourn in secret, to avoid the cruel persecution and rage of her wicked husband.

While he was thus dead in trespasses and in sins, the day of his spiritual resurrection at length began to dawn. In the spring of the year 1806, his mind began to be seriously impressed with a sense of his guilt, and a mispent life; this was accompanied with desires after holiness. His impressions and desires visited him again after repeated departures. During this time he felt very strong convictions; but does not remember that any text of Scripture

was particularly impressed upon his mind. He cannot tell the particular time when his awakening commenced; nor under what sermon he was converted: nor what minister was the instrument. He was powerfully drawn after the word; particularly after the word preached. To this he gave very earnest

attention.

One night, as he was going to bed, he was struck with such horror, that he durst not close his eyes to sleep. The dread of opening them upon the awful realities of eternity, for some time held his eyes waking. At length he concluded to say over the Lord's prayer; and as he thought that would be doing something for the Lord, he accordingly uttered it, and thus hushed his conscience for that night. In the morning he felt no more of his distress, and he went as usual to his work.

Alarming sensations continued to visit him; till one day as he was working on the public highway, the Lord, in a most secret and remarkable manner, brought him to view his lost and perishing state-to taste the wormwood and the gall of sin. His son, who was with him on the road, had just gone from him with his team to fetch a load of gravel, and left him alone, when he was so struck with a sense of his situation, that it appeared to him that every sin he had committed was in battle-array against him. His distress was so great as to cause him in reality to lament and mourn, and even to cry out for mercy. He eagerly sought where to hide himself-he thus expresses himself; "If I could have found out a place where I could have got clear of my distress, I would have gone to it. But, (says he,) it followed me wherever I went." Night came on, and he went home. His peaceable behaviour and his unusual silence, attracted the notice and admiration of his wife-She came and sat down by

him. But his lips, which had all his life time spued out the poison of a heart at enmity against God, were ashamed to be enlisted in the service of his much injured Saviour. He had not the courage to open them to utter a word concerning the heavy weight which then bowed down his spirits. His wife, perhaps afraid in a direct manner to talk to her husband concerning religion, began conversation, by mentioning that a sick man in the neighbourhood appeared very penitent; and at the same time expressed her fears, that if the Lord should spare his life, and he should get well, HE WOULD FORGET IT. These last words went to his heart. He could refrain no longer. He burst into tears. "It seemed, (says he,) as if my bowels would gush out of my body." He rose in the greatest perturbation of mind, hurried out of the house, went to his barn, and falling down upon his knees and his face, he cried out aloud to God to have mercy upon him. This was the first time he ever bowed his knees, and humbled his heart before God. In this state of mind he continued for days, and nights, and weeks. He happened at this time to have in his house a book of Isaac Ambrose, called "Looking unto Jesus." The diligent and humble perusal of this book was the mean, in the hands of God, to throw light on his situation; and the Lord soon put a new song in his mouth. "I, (says he,) of all men in the world, have the greatest reason to bless and thank God; and I now stand as a monument of God's distinguishing unmerited grace-bless his holy name."

Though his besetting sin at first weighed heaviest upon him, and was the mean, as it were, to bring him to a sense of his situation; and though he at first thought that if he could but get clear of the vice of drunkenness, he would do well, now that the Lord Iras enabled him to resist this temptation, he sees

other things to fight against. All sin is now the object of his hatred, and the whole ambition of his life seems to be to "worship God in the beauty of holi

He mentions it very feelingly, and with great humility," Some people tell me what a blessed thing it is that you have mastered your drunkenness. How can any one be master of that of which he stands in fear? No; I have not mastered it-My blessed Jesus keeps me from it-keeps it from me. He keeps that fear in my heart-blessed be his name." He can now thank God for something more than mere strength to mortify a particular vice. He once was blind, but now he sees. He once was lost, but now is found. That dread of his once besetting sin, remains as a thorn in his flesh to humble him, to keep him at the feet of the Saviour. "My grace is sufficient for thee"-this arms him with courage.

During his wicked life, he always, in conversing on religion, insisted upon the necessity of a change of heart, though he then knew nothing experimentally about it. And wherever he found a Professor walking contrary to his profession, he would ridicule him severely. He, however, acknowledges that he turned the grace of God into licentiousness, and thought himself excusable in his impenitent life till God changed his heart. He was drawn into the belief that the doctrine of salvation by grace alone excluded the use of the means. He is now convinced of his mistake, and wishes this to be published for the glory of God, and the good of souls.

His conversion has stood the test of nearly four years. He is now as much respected and beloved, as he once was despised and hated. Much has been forgiven him; much he loves his Saviour. He is a burning and a shining light in the Church to which he belongs-a great blessing to his family-a source