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around that holy place which you had so often in vain been invited to enter. Will it be any consolation for you, then, to reflect on the manner in which you occupied your Sunday mornings? Will it be a comfort for you, then, to recollect, that, instead of assembling together in that sacred Edifice, the stone out of whose wall, and the beams out of whose timber, are now crying out against you, you employed the favoured hours in the manner you did? No, my friends! I am sure, the dazzling light of that day will represent your conduct in its proper colours. You will then see that whilst you assisted your children in their temporal circumstances, you lost sight of their best interests---that whilst you were contributing to their worldly comforts, you neglected to tell them of the necessity of having a wedding garment; and now, they stand speechless before the Throne, waiting for the awful sentence," Bind them hand and foot, and cast them into outer darkness, where shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth."

Oh! then, my friends, persist no longer in a practice which is fraught with such fearful evils; but do every thing in your power to effect a change of system, for I am sure it will be attended with more satisfaction to your selves, and more comfort to your children.

Having, thus, endeavoured to expose the evil of this custom, I purpose at some future period, to point out the most effectual way of remedying it. With every kind wish for your temporal and eternal welfare,---I am,

Dear Friends,

YOUR AFFECTIONATE PASTOR.

To the Editor of the Christian Beacon.

Rev. Sir,- The day in which we live is vaunted almost to idolatry for superior intelligence and liberality; all profess to be liberal, and if in the experience of every-day life men's actions were equal to their professions, I should be content to look quietly on, and without interfering with ways so much to be admired, should hold my own opinion, without expecting the correctness of it to be called in question.

If you will do me the favor to insert the following letter in your Christian Beacon, I do not doubt that some of your readers will be surprised to learn, that it was refused admittance into the paper in which the opposite side of the question was freely discussed. I would ask you, Reverend Sir, was it generous to admit a subject to be advocated, and refuse a reply!

As the Chronicle is said to be the only liberal paper in Chester, I was quite at a loss to know, how the Conductor could be so illiberal as to refuse to hear both sides of the question, or even to let his readers dream that there was other than one side to the question! Nothing daunted, Reverend Sir, I sent my letter to the Gazette, thinking, that as people say, that paper is not so liberal, perhaps, my letter might find favor and a place; but indeed it was refused again! Now, it may appear strange, that papers of opposite principles should each refuse to admit other than one side of this question; but, it is not to me any surprise, for on reading the Gazette, it recommended the very thing my letter opposed, and so to be as liberal as the times, of course, I got no admittance! Reverend Sir, you will think I am not using you well, in sending my unfortunate letter to you last of all; but I just intend to try what you will do, and if I am thrown out again, I will resign all claims to be heard upon my side of the question, and remain only CIVIS. Chester, May 13, 1839.

CHESTER RACES.

To the Editor of the Chester Chronicle. SIR, I have read with much interest the letter of Cosmopolite, which appeared in your paper of last week, and which, I do not doubt, will meet with the hearty and general approbation of your readers. Concurring in most of what he says, and especially in what he says respecting the Clergy, and the recent innovations made on the tranquility of the City through their means, I still entertain some doubts as to the correctness of his political economy; and feeling as he does for the prosperity of the place, and consci

ous as he can be, that the increase of wealth is the truest test of that prosperity, I am inclined to demur from his conclu. sions, and to question the justice of his calculations. Agreeing then with him in his first principle, that the chief object of every reasonable man is to get money, and that the community is benefited, or injured, simply in proportion to its gains or losses; still am compelled by experience in my own case, as well as by observation, to dissent from his inference, and to doubt whether our City does on the whole gain by the Races.

I admit that the inns will be filled, and that the publicans of every description, will sell during that week five times as much as usual, and will have an opportunity of charging twice as much as usual for every thing they sell. And admit, that under both these heads the respectable inhabitants of this city will probably derive considerable advantnge. The brewers and still-men, the spirit sellers will also gain, though not so immediately or directly; but still they must on the whole be gainers from the im mense increase of drunkenness which always occurs on that occasion.

Lodgings again will be let to advantage, and if the rooms are well cleaned and the furniture repaired, there can be no doubt, that they may be let at very high prices for three or four days.

The mercers, the milliners, the dealers in every article of luxury will also gain but I doubt whether their gains can be put down without some exceptions, as I feel to my cost at present. The bills which my wife and daughters ran up last races, have put me to very great inconvenience, and have compelled me to withdraw my subscriptions from several charitable institutions, and to strike off three old pensioners, to whom I was in the habit of allowing two shillings a week towards paying their rent. If these shops then gain, there are others which lose; and, as our visitors for the most part come provided with their dresses; I conceive that much of that which is gained by the mer cers and milliners of the city, is withdrawn from the bakers, butchers and others who supply the necessaries of life.

I have thus far stated, generally, what may be considered the creditor side of the question, or the gains of the City by the races. Common justice compels me now to state the Debit side of the account, and to consider what the City loses.

First of all, there will be the loss, on the lowest average, of two days' work of four thousand men, and this, if we put the day's work at 2s. 6d. will be £1000. If we add to this the same sum for the waste in liquid, we shall have £2000 net loss to the labouring part of the community. The injury done to furniture, clothing, and health, by drunkenness and fighting at the races, may be stated at £500, and it is I am sure a very low estimate. Large sums of money will also change hands at the races in the form of bets, but I am afraid that very little of this will remain in Chester, and that, on the whole, much more will go out of Chester, and fly to Manchester, and London, or Newmarket, or wherever the winners chuse to make their home.

To this we must add, the money that will be lost by robberies and swindling of various kinds; the chief part of which, will of course, be drawn from our young greenhorns, our shop boys, clerks, and servants, and will, perhaps, be made good by petty dishonesties at home. In short, Sir, as I am neither publican, spirit merchant, nor stable keeper; as I have no lodgings to let, nor articles of luxury to sell; as I have a wife and four daughters to dress, three sons, and two apprentices to be fleeced, as I am carrying on a business which depends on the regularity and sobriety of the labouring class, I feel that I have every reason to fear losses, and heavy losses too, from the coming races; and must therefore dispute the inference which is drawn by Cosmopolite, as to the benefit they confer on the City of Chester. CIVIS.

Chester, 22nd April, 1839,

SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. God the Father---He who made us Still will watch our growing years, Till His mercy hath convey'd us

Safely through this world of tears. Yes, that Father, mercy gave us

For the sake of God the Son, He who died from death to save us, Father, Saviour, love as One. But if we would fain inherit

Thrones of glory there above,
Let us pray to God the Spirit,
He who can all sin remove.

God creates us---God redeems us,
God renews our nature lost---
Three in One to love, beseems us,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Y.

A Lawyer's Judgment on the Moral Law. A Lawyer distinguished by his learning and his talents, was living in a town in the north of the United States. I do not know many particulars of his moral character, but he was a professed and notorious blasphemer. He had a negro servant, whom, in the hearing of all his neighbours, was he in the constant habit of cursing in the most dreadful manner. He took it however into his head one day to go to a member of the Consistory of the Presbyterian Church, who was also a Lawyer, and said to him, "I wish, Sir, to examine for myself whether the christian religion is true or not. What books do you advise me to read on the subject?" "It is rather late for you to begin the study of so important a subject," answered the elder, very much surprised. "How is it that you have waited till your advanced age before you have thought of these things?" "It is late, I own," he replied, "but I have had other things to think of, and my time has been wholly taken up with them. Besides, till now, I have imagined that christianity was rejected by the majority of well informed men. I wish, however, to look into the subject seriously for myself, and I repeat my question, What books do you advise me to read?" "The Bible," answered the elder. "I do not think you understand me,' rejoined the infidel: "I wish to examine the truth of christianity." "Exactly so, and therefore I advise you to read the Bible; and for this reason: the greater number of infidels are quite ignorant of the contents of the Bible. But to be able to form a judgment on the subject, it is necessary to arrive at a clear knowledge of its contents. Added to which, I consider the internal evidence of the Scriptures, to be infinitely stronger than the external." "And pray, where am I to begin reading? I suppose at the New Testament ?" "No; begin the Bible from the beginning, that is, from the book of Genesis." The infidel procured a copy of the sacred volume, together with a commentary; and set himself in right earnest to study the Scriptures. He applied himself to the work, giving to it all his powers of attention, and the severity of criticism. The member of the Presbyterian Church came occasionally to see him, and the sceptic frankly expressed his doubts and his objections to him. One passage appeared sublime to him, he was much struck by another, but then a third and a fourth presented themselves which he could not receive as truth.

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The elder having again called upon him one evening, found him pacing up and down his room, apparently in great agitation, and his mind absorbed in the deepest meditation. He continued to walk about the room for some time, without even perceiving the presence of bis

companion. The latter at last spoke, and said, "you appear to be occupied by some very serious consideration. May I ask what it is ?" "I have just been reading the Decalogue," answered the infidel, "the moral law given by Moses." "Well, and what do you think of it ?" "I will first tell you what I thought of it a short time ago. I considered Moses as the leader of a band of robbers; who by strength of mind, and firmness of character, had acquired a very great influence over a superstitious people; that he had got up an exhibition of some sort of fire works upon Mount Sinai, in order to strike with awe the minds of his ignorant followers; and that the pretended divine origin of his law was founded on nothing but a mixture of cunning, superstition, and terror." "And what do you

now think of this law ?" asked the elder. "I was narrowly searching to find out, just now," replied the lawyer, whether by taking from it, or adding to it, it might not be improved in any way. But, Sir, this would be impossible. This law is perfect. The first commandment," continued he, "commands us to reverence, and to worship God. This is but just. If He is our Creator, our Preserver, and our supreme Benefactor, we ought to honour Him as such, and none other but Him. The second commandment forbids all idolatry. This must most certainly be right. The third commandment forbids blasphemy, The fourth fixes a certain time for religious services. If there is a God, He ought undoubtedly to be worshipped. And it is fitting that our inward homage should manifest itself by outward observances. It is not less fitting that a particular time, a certain day should be set apart for the purpose, in order that all may serve God at the same time, and without interruption. One day in seven is not too much, neither do I think too little. The fifth commandment defines the duties which result from family relationship. Then come faults against our neighbour, which are classed in the moral law, in the most admirable manner. They are divided into offences against life, purity, property, and reputation. I observe," continued the Lawyer, appearing to examine the subject in a professional point of view, that the heaviest degree is expressly forbidden in each series of offences against our neighbour. Thus the greatest offence against life is murder; against chastity, is adultery; against property, is theft; against reputation, is false witness. Now it is clear that the heaviest offence includes all others of the same nature. The commandment against murder forbids all that can endanger or shorten life; and again that against adultery, necessarily includes all that could offend purity; and so on with the rest. In short, this moral code concludes in the most perfect manner by a commandment which forbids every evil desire with regard to our neighbour.

I was also trying to think from whence Moses could have attained this law. I have read history, and I find nothing like it there. The Egyptians and the neighbouring nations were idolaters; so were the Greeks and the Romans; and the wisest among the Greeks and Romans never produced a code of laws which approaches to this. Where then could Moses have obtained this law, which surpasses the wisdom of the most philosophic ages? He lived at a period comparatively ignorant and barbarous, and yet he gave forth a law in which all the learning and experience of after ages could never discover a single imperfection. Could he, by the mere powers of his own mind, have thus raised himself so infinitely above his contemporaries? This appears to me impossible. No: Moses never gave this law from himself. I know from whom he had it it was given him from above. Sir, I now believe that the religion taught in this Bible, is true, and of divine origin.'

This lawyer was a firm believer in the truth of christianity till his death. He lived about three years longer; and persevered with great zeal in the study of the Sacred

He

Scriptures, his ideas becoming gradually and encreasingly clearer and more correct as to the doctrines of faith. was no longer a blasphemer. This sin he now held in the greatest abhorrence, though it had once been so familiar to him; nor did he ever hear any of his friends give way to it in his presence, without boldly reproving them.

I have learned these particulars from the member of the Presbyterian Church, a few verbal mistakes may have crept into the recital of them; but every idea, and the entire fact itself, are strictly correct. May the reader meditate upon this little history, for it is rich in practical instruction. He will especially see in it, that the Moral Law is a venerable monument, a sublime code, a work which has not come from the hands of man, but from those of the mighty God Himself.

THE LAST WORD.

A rich man, of some consideration in the world, finding himself one day in the company of the late Mr. Schoener of Nurenberg, went up to him, and introducing himself, said that he was occasionally one of his hearers. "And allow me to mention the fault I find with your sermons, Sir," continued this rich man. "For some time past all your discourses treat but of one subject, the natural corruption of man, and the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. Now permit me to remark, that the gospels and the epistles contain so many and such beautiful subjects for the pulpit, that I sometimes wonder at seeing you, in each of your sermons, or at any rate in the winding up of them, invariably arrive at the same point, tacking this your favourite theme to the development of your subject, however apparently distant from it." The humble and faithful pastor answered, "I remember to have once read of a minister of the gospel, who, though he preached constantly, yet in every one of his sermons pointed out the way of life and the salvation offered by Christ to sinners. For, said he, each of my sermons may be the last to myself, or to some member of my flock. I will not, therefore, lose the last opportunity I may have of preaching repentance to some poor sinner, and telling him of the Saviour of sinners; so that when I come to stand before the tribunal of God, I may not have this awful accusation brought against me by one of those souls committed to my care: 'I was present at thy last sermon: my heart was full of this question, what must I do to be saved? and thou didst give me no answer.' These words," added Schoener, "I have laid to heart, and desire to act faithfully up to them. I do not, as you imagine, tack the Chief Corner Stone of the christian faith to each of my sermons; but I make it the foundation of them all. It is sometimes said of a man who will never be in the wrong, that he will always have the last word: now I strive as much as in me lies, so to preach, as that He who alone is never in the wrong should have the last word, and should speak it in the ears of dying sinners. It is only by the bedside of the dying sinner, that we can see all that this last word, this word of man's sin, and this word of the free mercy of God, contains of truth and of comfort." The rich man was silent, and from that time became a constant hearer of the old minister's preaching.

The Revival at Amherst College.

As probably but few of my readers have had opportunity to form any acquaintance with the interior of a new England College, or with the nature of college life, I must commence my narrative with a description of the place in which the scene is laid.

The appearance which a New England College exhibits to a traveller, is that of a group of large brick buildings, generally a hundred feet long, and four stories high, standing usually upon an eminence, or upon a level plain, on the borders of some quiet country village. The buildings

are connected with one another, and approached from various directions by gravelled walks, and, perhaps, ornamented with shrubbery; and one among them, distinguished usually by a form somewhat different from the rest, and surmounted by a sort of cupola, indicates that the whole constitute some public establishment.

A fresh admission of students takes place in the autumn of each year, consisting ordinarily of young men, from twenty years of age down to thirteen. These students are united into one class, and commence one course of study, which extends through a period of four years. During these four years, there will, of course, be three more admissions, making four classes, and only four, in the institution at the same time.

The large buildings I have alluded to, are divided into rooms as nearly alike as possible;-eight usually upon a floor, and, consequently thirty-two in all. Each one of these rooms is assigned to two of the members of the class admitted, and it is to be for one year their home. The first day of the collegiate year, those portions of the building assigned to the Freshmen, (as the last admitted are called,) exhibit a scene of very peculiar and striking character. The bustle of preparation,-moving in, and putting up furniture-the interest excited by the novelty of the mode of life they are now to lead, and the lingering recollections of home, left perhaps for ever,-resolutions of diligence and fidelity in the course of study before them -and the various other feelings excited by the new and strange faces and objects around, all conspire to give to the Freshman's first day at college a marked and striking character, and to fill it with new and strong emotions which he never can forget.

In every class there is a large number of youthful members, whose parents' situation in life is such, that they have been the objects of constant attention from infancy, and have accordingly been early fitted for college, and sent to the institution before their minds are sufficiently matured, and their moral principles firmly enough established, to resist the new and strong temptations to which they are henceforth to be exposed." Others are old and more mature. Many of these have prepared themselves for college by their own exertions, and have entered under the influence of strong desires to avail themselves of its privileges, In these two classes may be found almost every variety of human character. Every virtue and every vice here exhibit themselves. There is infidelity, cold, calculating, malicious infidelity, establishing her wretched reign in the bosom of young men just opening into manhood. There is vice, secret and open, of every species, and in every de gree. There is intemperance and profaneness, and hatred of religion, and an open and wreckless opposition to the cause of God and holiness, scarcely ever surpassed by the animosity of any veteran foe.

The lines between the enemies and the friends of God are thus drawn in college more distinctly than in almost any other community :-and the young and inexperienced in every new class, are marked out by the idle, dissipated, and abandoned for their prey. The victim first listens to language and sentiments which undermine his regard for the principles of duty, and weaken those cords which chris tian parents had bound around his heart when he left his early home, and he soon falls more and more under the influence of these ungodly companions. Half allured by their persuasions, and half compelled by their rude intrus sions into his room, he spends the hours which college laws allot to study, in idle reading, or in games of chance or skill. He first listens to ridicule of religious persons and then joins in it; and next begins to ridicule and despise religion itself. The officers of college do all in their power to arrest his progress. They see the first indications his beginning to go astray, in the neglect of his studies, and in the irregularity of his attendance upon college

duties; and again and again appoint one of their number to warn and expostulate with him, and kindly to put him on bis guard. How many such efforts have I made! As I write these paragraphs, I can recall interviews to mind with almost the distinctness of actual vision. A short time after sending a messenger for the one who was to receive the friendly admonition, I would bear his timid rap at the door. He would enter with a look of mingled guilt, fear, and shame; or sometimes with a step and countenance of assumed assurance. How many times in such circumstances, have I tried in vain to gain access to the heart! I have endeavoured to draw him into conversation about his father and mother, and the scenes of home and childhood, that I might insensibly awaken recollections of the past, and bring back long-lost 1 feelings, and re-unite broken ties. I have tried to lead him to anticipate the future, and see the dangers of idleness, dissipation, and vice. I have endeavoured to draw forth and encourage the feeble resolution, and by sympathy and kindness, and promises of aid, to bring back the wanderer to duty and to happiness. He would listen in cold and respectful silence, and go away unchanged; perhaps to make a few feeble resolutions soon to be forgotten; but more probably to turn into ridicule the moral lecture, as he would call it, which he has received, and to go =on, with a little more caution and secrecy, perhaps, but with increased hardihood and rapidity, in his career of sin. In many cases, college censures and punishments frequently follow, until expulsion closes the story. In other cases, the individuals conceal their guilt, while they become more and more deeply involved in it, and more and more hardened. They associate with one another, and at length, in some cases, form a little community in which ungodliness, infidelity, and open sin, have a confirmed and unquestioned sway.

I must say a word or two now in regard to the ordinary routine of daily life at college, in order that the description which is to follow may be better understood. Very early in the morning, the observer may see lights at a few of the windows of the buildings inhabited by the students. They mark the rooms occupied by the more industrious or more resolute, who rise and devote an hour or two to their books by lamp-light on the winter mornings. About day-break the bell awakens the multitude of sleepers in all the rooms, and in a short time they are to be seen issuing from the various doors, with sleepy looks, and with books under their arms, and some adjusting their hurried dress. Those who first come down go slowly, others with quicker and quicker step, as the toiling of the bell proceeds; and the last few stragglers run with all speed, to secure their places before the bell ceases to toll. When the last stroke is sounded, it usually finds one or two too late, who stop short suddenly, and return slowly to their rooms.

The President or one of the Professors reads a portion of Scripture, by the mingled lights of the pupil lamps, and the beams which come in from the reddening eastern sky. He then offers the morning prayer. The hundreds of young men before him exhibit the appearance of respectful attention, except that four or five, appointed for the purpose, in different parts of the chapel, are looking carefully around to observe and note upon their bills the absentees. A few also, not fearing God or regarding their duty, conceal under their cloaks, or behind a pillar or a partition betwen the pews, the book which contains their morning lesson: and attempt to make up, as well as the faint but increasing light will enable them, for the time wasted in idleness or dissipation on the evening before. When prayers are over, the several classes repair immediately to the rooms assigned respectively to them, and recite the first lesson of the day.

During the short period which elapses between the recitation and the breakfast bell, college is a busy scene.

Fires are kindled in every room. Groups are standing in every corner, or hovering around the newly-made fires:parties are running up and down stairs two steps at a time, with the ardour and activity of youth:-and, now, and then, a fresh crowd is seen issuing from the door of some one of the buildings, where a class has finished its recitation, and comes forth to disperse to their 100ms, followed by their instructor, who walks away to his house in the village. The breakfast bell rings out the whole throng again, and gathers them around the long tables in the common ball, or else scatters them among the private families in the neighbourhood.

An hour after breakfast, the bell rings to mark the commencement of study hours; when the students are required by college laws to repair to their respective rooms, which answer the three-fold purpose of parlour, bed-room, and study, to prepare for their recitation at eleven o'clock. They, however, who choose to evade this law, can do it without much danger of detection. The great majority comply, but some go into their neighbours' room to receive assistance in their studies, some lay aside the dull text-book and read a tale, or play a game; and others, farther gone in the road of idleness and dissipation, steal secretly away from college, and ramble in the woods, or skate upon the ice, or find some rendezvous of dissipation in the village, evading their tasks like truant boys. They, of course, are marked as absent; but pretended sickness will answer for an excuse, they think, once or twice, and they go on, blind to the certainty of the disgrace and ruin which must soon come.

The afternoon is spent like the forenoon, and the last recitation of the winter's day, is just before the sun goes down. An hour is allotted to it, and then follow evening prayers, at the close of which the students issue from the chapel, and walk along inprocession to supper.

It is in the evening, however, that the most striking peculiarities of college life exhibit themselves. Sometimes literary societies assemble, organized and managed by the students, where they hold debates, or entertain each other with declamations, essays, and dialogues. Sometimes a religious meeting is held, attended by a portion of the professors of religion, and conducted by an officer: at other times, the students remain in their rooms, some quietly seated by the fire, one on each side, reading, writing, or preparing the lessons for the following morning: others assemble for mirth and dissipation, or prowl around the entries and halls to perpetrate petty mischief, breaking the windows of some hapless Freshman, or burning nauseous drugs at the keyhole of his door, or rolling logs down stairs, and running instantly into a neighbouring room so as to escape detection,-or watching at an upper window to pour water unobserved upon some fellow-student passing in or out below; or plugging up the keyhole of the chapel door, to prevent access to it for morning prayers: or gaining access to the bell by false keys, and cutting the rope, or filling it with water to freeze during the night: or some other of the thousand modes of doing mischief to which the idle and flexible Sophomore is instigated by some calculating and malicious mischief-maker in a higher class. After becoming tired of this, they gather together in the room of some dissolute companion, and there prepare themselves a supper, with food they have plundered from a neighbouring poultry yard, and utensils obtained in some similar mode. Ardent spirits sometimes makes them noisy---and a college officer, at half-past nine, breaks in upon them, and exposure and punishment are the consequences; disgrace, suspension, and expulsion for themselves, and bleeding hearts for parents and sisters at home. At other times, with controlled and restrained indulgence, they sit till midnight, sowing the bitter seeds of vice; undermining health, destroying all moral sensibility, and making almost sure the ruin of their souls.

In the meantime, the officers of the institution, with a

fidelity and an anxious interest, which is seldom equalled by any solicitude except that which is felt by parents for their children, struggle to resist the tide. They watch, they observe, they have constant records kept, and in fact they go as far as it is possible to go, in obtaining information about the character and history of each individual, without adopting a system of espionage, which the nature of the institution, and the age of a majority of the pupils, render neither practicable nor proper. They warn every individual who seems to be in danger, with greater and greater distinctness, according to the progress he seems to be making, and as soon as evidence will justify it, they remove every one whose stay seems dangerous to the rest; but still the evil will increase, in spite of all the ordinary human means which can be brought against it.

Such is college, and such substantially was the condition of Amherst college, in April, 1827, at the time of my narrative. Faithful religious instruction was given on the Sabbath, at the chapel, where the students were required to attend, and we were accustomed to hold, also, a meeting for familiar religious instruction one evening during the week. At this meeting, however, scarcely any were present; a small portion of the actual members of the church were accustomed to attend, but never any one else. If a single individual, not professedly a Christian, had come in for a single evening, it would have been noticed as a rare occurrence, and talked of by the officers as something unexpected and extraordinary. Our hearts ached, and our spirits sunk within us, to witness the coldness and hardness of heart towards God and duty, which reigned among so large a number of our pupils. Every private effort which we could make with individuals entirely failed, and we could see, too, that those who professed to love the Saviour were rapidly losing their interest in his cause, and becoming engrossed in literary ambition and college rivalry, dishonouring God's cause, and gradually removing every obstacle to the universal prevalence of vice and sin. There was then in college, a young man, who had been among the foremost in his opposition to religion. His talents and his address gave him a great deal of personal influence, which was of such a character as to be a constant source of solicitude to the government. repeatedly involved in difficulties with the officers on account of his transgressions of the college laws, and so well known were his feelings on the subject, that when at a government meeting, during the progress of the revival, we were told with astonishment by the president, that this young man was suffering great distress on account of his sins, it was supposed by one of the officers that it must be all a pretence, feigned to deceive the president, and make sport for his companions. The president did not reply to the suggestion, but went to visit him; and when I saw him, he said," There's no pretence there: if the Spirit of God is not at work upon his heart, I know nothing about the agency of the spirit."

He was

That young man is now the pastor of a church, active and useful, and when commencing this narrative, I wrote to him to send me such reminiscences of this scene as might remain upon his mind. He writes me thus: Very dear Sir,

My obligations to you as a friend and instructor make me anxious to fulfil my promise of drawing up a sketch of the revival at Amherst College, during the last two or three weeks of April, 1827. I have been delayed partly by sickness and the unusual pressure of duties here, partly by the difficulty of settling in my mind a clear idea of what you wish, and partly by the impossibility of reviving the memory of facts and impressions in the exact order of their occurrence. If this communication should reach you too late to answer your purpose, it will at least prove my wish to yield you such assistance as I may.

For a considerable time previous, the subject of reli

gion in college had fallen into great neglect ;—even the outward forms were very faintly observed. During nearly two years in which I had been connected with the college, I had never heard the subject mentioned among the students, except as matter of reproach and ridicule. At least this is true, so far as my intercourse with the students was concerned. Those who professed piety, either through timidity or unconcern, seemed to let the subject rest, and were chiefly devoted to indolence, or literary ambition. But while religion was shamed and fugitive, irreligion was bold and free. A majority of the students were avow. edly destitue of piety; and of these, a large portion were open or secret infidels, and many went to every length they could reach of levity, profaneness, and dissipation. So many animosities and irregularities prevailed, as to endanger the general reputation of the seminary.

'Some of the students who were differently situated from myself, may perhaps have noticed preparatory movements on the common mass of mind, indicating an undercurrent of feeling, gradually gaining strength, and preparing the community for the results which were to follow. But I saw none-and none such could have been gene. rally apparent. Upon myself the change opened with as much suddenness as power.'

I here interrupt, for a moment, the narrative of my friend, to mention all the indications which I myself, or my brother officers, perceived. The president, with faithfulness and plainness, urged upon the professors of religion their duties and their neglect, and held up to them the evidences that they were, as a body, wandering from duty, and becoming unfaithful to their trust. But he had done this often before. In fact he was in the habit of doing it. The difference seemed to be that, though heretofore they would listen with stupid coldness, and go away unchanged, now they suddenly seemed inspired with a disposition to hear, and with a heart to feel. They began to come in greater numbers to the meetings appointed for them, and to listen with silent solemnity to warnings and expostulations which had been always unheeded before. All the efforts which were made were aimed at leading Christ's followers to penitence, and at bringing them back to duty. And though it had been impossible before, it was perfectly easy now; and while this very work was going on, actually before the time had come for thinking of the others, they began spontaneously, or, at least, to all appearance with out human exertion, to tremble for themselves. The of ficers and the religious students were astonished, day after day, to find numbers whom no faithfulness of expostulation had hitherto been able to affect at all, now coming, of their own accord, and asking for help and direction; trembling with anxiety and remorse on account of their past sins, and with fear of God's displeasure. But to return to my correspondent.

The first circumstance which attracted my attention, was a sermon from the President on the Sabbath. I do not know what the text and subject were, for, according to wicked habit, I had been asleep till near its close. 1 seemed to be awakened by a silence which pervaded the room; a deep solemn attention which seems to spread over an assembly when all are completely engrossed in some absorbing theme. I looked around, astonished, and the feeling of profound attention seemed to settle on my self. I looked towards the President, and saw him calm and collected, but evidently most deeply interested in what he was saying; his whole soul engaged, and his countenance beaming with an expression of eager earnest ness, which lighted up all his features, and gave to his language unusual energy and power.

What could this mean? I had never seen a speaker and his audience so engaged. He was making a most earnest appeal to prevent those who were destitute of reli gion themselves, from doing any thing to obstruct the pro

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