50. XVII.

THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER.

WINDS.

WIND is air in motion. An equipoise of the air produces. a calm; but if this equipoise be taken off, a stream or current of air is occasioned. When a fire is lighted in a room, the effect of the equipoise being taken off, will immediately be perceived. The air, heated by the fire, becomes more rarified; and consequently being lighter, ascends the chimney, while the colder air rushes from all parts of the room to supply its place; this becoming rarified by the fire, ascends also the chimney, and dense and colder air supplies its place. Thus a current of air is produced, which carries the smoke up the chimney. In like manner, an inequality of heat in different parts of the earth, is one of the general causes of the winds; and as those parts of the world which are nearer the equator are much more heated by the sun than those which lie towards either of the poles, the cold air will press towards the equator from the north and the south; and the two currents of air will meet in that part of the earth which is most heated by the sun's rays. If the motion of these currents of air were only influenced by the sun, the winds would always blow from the northern pole of the earth full south, and from the southern full north; but the rotatory motion of the earth, from west to east, gives them a different direction, and as they advance nearer the equator they are turned more and more towards the east, till they meet at that part of the earth which is most heated, and proceed full east. Hence, over the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, particularly between 30 degrees of north and 30 degrees of south latitude, the Trade Winds, as they are called, blow uniformly from east to west all the year round, with small variations, according as the sun is nearer or farther from the equator. It is very hard to conceive why the limits of the trade winds should scarcely ever exceed, or fall short of 30 degrees of latitude; and probably, if the terrestrial globe was covered with water, and the heat the same in every part of the same parallel of latitude, the winds would be nearly regalar also, blowing in one direction constantly from the two poles; but the irregularities of heat occasioned by the great continent, the position of high mountains, and various other causes, will necessarily render the direction of the wind irregular and uncertain. The equipoise of the atmosphere is disturbed not only by heat, but by eruptions of vapour from sea or land, the pressure of the clouds, and particularly by the falling of rain; for the water which falls in drops of rain, occupies so much less space than when it floated in the atmosphere in the form of vapour, that every shower of rain must occasion

a current of air or wind to supply the deficiency produced by the condensation of the vapour. Hence several winds are attended with a cloudy sky.

But though the above remarks may, in many cases, account for the direction in which the winds blow, yet they do not remove every difficulty. The subject, though curious, is a very perplexing one; and we are forcibly reminded of the saying of our Lord: The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth. He who often illustrated the most sublime operations of almighty power and grace by the most frequent and familiar occurrences in nature, has thought proper to compare the work of the Spirit, in the regeneration of men, to the wind, to teach us, that it would be as easy to bind the influences' of the refreshing gales, and to direct them where to blow, as for man to controul or oppose the work of the Holy Ghost in quickening, enlightening, and sanctifying the human heart; that there is a sovereign freedom in his divine agency, which makes it often impossible to say why it is imparted to one rather than to another; and that, though the manner of the Spirit's operations be veiled in mystery, yet are they to be sensibly perceived by the inward change they effect, and the outward fruits they produce. —O let us daily and humbly seck these influences, remembering that they are of a free and sovereign nature, and like the wind which bloweth where it listeth, and does not stay for the com mands of the children of men. T. P. B.

* John iii. 8.

A CHARACTER SOMETIMES TO BE MET WITH.

SIR,

To the Editor.

FEW attainments are perhaps more rare, and none more valuable, than that of absolute decision of character. A considerable degree of this excellence is indeed essential to Christianity; and every good man and every good man possesses it. There are, however, some professors of religion, who seem remarkable for little beside versatility; they pass through a variety of changes, till at length they arrive at the point from which they began their course; affording a reflecting mind fearful reason to conclude, that the last state of such persons will be worse than their first.' The truth of this sentiment will be evident, if I give you a brief outline of a cha racter sometimes to be met with.

B—— was remarkable for his profligacy; not only living

without God in the world,' but commonly foremost in scenes of intoxication and riot; a bad husband, at best a careless parent, and something worse than a useless member of society. In the course of God's providence, the Gospel was preached in the place where he resided: he went to persecute the minister, and the people who should dare to hear him; but the instruments he had provided dropped from his hands; and he remained to wonder and adore. His conduct was now altered, and he became apparently another man. The pious looked on him as the disciples of old looked on Saul of Tarsus after he was converted; and his ungodly companions were amazed, and loaded him with reproaches. Soon after this, he applied for admission into a Christian society.Every member of the church said Come in, thou blessed of the Lord! why standest thou without?-every heart was filled with adoring gratitude and wonder; all imagined that there was joy in heaven on the occasion; that angels sang This our brother was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found!' the pastor closed the solemn scene with ascriptions of praise to the great Shepherd: the interesting sentiment, My joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus,' animated his heart; and tears trickled down the furrows of his aged cheeks. The converted prodigal went on his way re joicing. When the Sabbath came, he hastened to the sanc tuary; the heat of summer, or the storms of winter, or five or six miles between his habitation and the house of God, were no obstacles in his way; and those who regarded them as hindrances, were severely censured by him for their lukewarmness or hypocrisy. He idolized the minister; and would have almost plucked out his eyes and, had he needed them, given them to him. In his estimation, his pastor was every thing that was proper; he could say nothing wrong, he could do nothing wrong. His zeal was flaming; he reproved the un godly,-he admonished professors, and incessantly planned new schemes for the extension of the gospel. Happy, exceedingly happy, should I be could I add, that, after a life of respectability and usefulness in the church of Christ, he had closed his career, saying, 'I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith ;-but truth obliges me to reverse the scene. Through the combined influence of his evil passions, of improper books, of bad company, and of the temptations of the wicked one, what appeared to be gold, has become dim; and that which appeared to be fine gold, has been changed. Now he is hardly ever seen in the house of God; and when he comes, it is to cavil and censure, or sit in judgment on the minister and the people. His pastor now can say nothing right, can do nothing right, and is all that he ought not to be. It is true, he has some little remains of zeal; but it is E e

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for little beside speculative notions. Briefly, to sum up his character, he has a very good opinion of himself; is absolutely certain, he will tell you, of going to heaven; knows a great deal more than nearly all the ministers and professors of religion around him; unchristianizes more than three parts of the religious world; utterly detests practical godliness, at least in theory, and oftentimes gives reason to suppose that he really hates it, the plague of faithful ministers, the pest of religi ous societies, and the disgrace of the Christian name. Such, Sir, is a faithful picture of some characters I have known;and, I doubt not, but that more than one will see in it an accurate resemblance of themselves. May they not be like the man beholding his natural face in a glass, and going his way and forgetting what manner of person he was!"

As an improvement of the foregoing, I beg permission to reply to three Inquiries which seem naturally to arise from the subject:

1. Why does God permit such characters as the above to arise among his professing people?—The Redeemer in his message, by his faithful servant John to his church at Philadelphia, spake of an hour of temptation which should come upon all the world, to try them that dwelt on the earth;' and, I think, that God permits false professors of religion to arise among his people to try them, to try the sincerity of their piety, their meekness, patience, stedfastness, and their love to their Lord and Master:-perhaps, however, it may be one of those mysteries of Providence that are inscrutable. Well, the day shall declare it.'

II. How may we rationally account for the conduct of such false professors-I think that their hearts were never created anew by the divine Spirit; that religious truth made impressions on their natural passions merely; that the pride that dwells in every unregenerated bosom was never subdued; that this base passion was flattered and nourished by the abundant regards of generous Christians to the young convert; and that when these attentions became less, as perhaps they could not but do in the course of time, his pride was mortified, and he eagerly looked around him in search of new means to gratify this unhallowed disposition.

III. How shall we distinguish the spirit of such a professor from the spirit of genuine piety?—I reply, Such a professor,

1. Arrives almost immediately at a maturity of piety; becomes ripe at once, if I may be allowed the phrase, while -genuine piety is usually slow in its growth. I commonly,' says an interesting writer, suspect those that are all at once so ripe in knowledge, and so high in doctrine. These disproportionate notionalists remind me of those unhappy children whose heads grow so much faster than their bodies; it is the

effect of disease or weakness, not of health and vigour. I love to see knowledge, it is the essence and practice advancing together unto a perfect man;'-that which comes up in a night may wither in a night. If we look into nature, we shall find things slower in their growth, in proportion to their excellency. How rapidly nettles, and thistles, and reeds, and osiers, spring up to maturity; but the oak is as much slower in attaining its perfection as it is more firm in its grain, more durable in continuance, more important in its use.'

2 is vain-confident: he is certain about almost every thing; scarcely ever intimates that there is a probability that he can be mistaken; is wiser, in his own conceit, than seven men that can render a reason.' True piety is uniformly modest and anassuming. When Ephraim spake tremblingly, he exalted himself in Israel.'

3. Is fickle and inconstant: never long together the same, or attached to the same objects; it may be said to him as to Reuben, Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel.' Genuine piety is stable; the possessor of it has counted the cost,' and is determined to build; is stedfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.'

4. Makes a great noise: you will hear more of him than of all the other members of a Christian society together; his religion, like that of Bunyan's Talkative, lies in his tongue, and in making a great outcry.' Genuine piety stimulates its possessor to seek after usefulness rather than distinction. Such an one is willing to be any thing, to be the most unnoticed of his brethren, if he may be but useful. Looking to the Redeemer, he says, Hast thou a lamb in all thy flock I would disdain to feed?' 'I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than dwell in the tents of wickedness.'

5. Is a selfish one; seeks his own glory; says, in the spirit of Jehu, Come, see my zeal for the Lord of Hosts;' and if there were no beings beside God and inmortal spirits to witness his conduct, he would never attempt any thing for the divine honour. On the contrary, true piety leads its possessor to abound in good fruits, and to long that glory, on this account, may be given, not to himself, but to his Father who is in heaven.-That the God of all grace inay guard all your readers, and all our churches from counterfeit religion, and bestow on them genuine piety of heart, is the sincere prayer B. H. D. Chipping Norton.

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