guise, that no man might discover how he had been employed. Self would say nay to it.

We are aware-and who is not that is mindful of what is passing in their own bosoms?-how much greater our danger on the other side. We all have sometime loved the world too much, given too much regard to its opinions, been influenced too much by its habits: again and again we have run ourselves into this danger, and like children scarred and suffering from the burn, we tremble to approach the fires into which we have so often fallen. And there is reason; and if needs be we must proclaim to ourselves a fast from our most natural and most innocent pursuits, when we find them tending to corrupt our principles and obscure our faith. But the world need not be made a party to the fast-a harsh, austere manner, a downcast and careful look, an offensive negligence of appearance, need not be the accompaniments of our self-imposed abstinence. Whatever we give up, let it seem we do it cherfully-whatever we suffer, let it appear we bear it willingly-whatever we do, let us be observed to do it gladly. Is there not a cause? Is any thing we can part from worth a sigh compared to the eternal weight of glory, for the sake of which we part from it? Is any pain or sorrow that may be laid on us received by us as other than a wholesome medicine, administered of mercy for our cure? Is any thing we are called upon to do, other than a task that angels in heaven would delight in, since it is the will of him, they serve? The only real ill a Christian knows, is the burthen of his own conscious sin-and even in this there is such a countervailing sense of our Redeemer's amazing love, such perception of the benefits of his grace, such increasing value for the gift of life in him, in exact proportion as we feel the desert of death in ourselves, that here even, heavy as in secret lies the loathed burden, warm as in secret fall the tears of penitence, there may be, without hypocrisy, a smile upon the brow of piety-emblem

of the seal invisible that God has set on the children of his love.

THE LISTENER.-No. XXVIII.

MR. LISTENER,

HAVING observed with much concern the ill success of your researches after CONSISTENCY, and felt a growing impatience that the portrait was not produced, it came to my mind that I might assist you in the search, happening to be intimate with a family who are continually speaking of it, and that after the manner of a familiar acquaintance. The word being perpetually on their lips, I could not doubt but they were well acquainted with the thing, and perhaps could afford the very information you had sought so far in vain. Anxious now as ever to assist you, I proposed myself a short residence among them, not liking to expose my ignorance by directly asking for the information I wanted. Nothing could be more promising than the first aspect of things. With the first breath I drew in their abode, I seemed to inhale a love of this unknown-and so contagious is example, that before many days had elapsed, I found it impossible to express myself on any subject without using the word. It is a delightful word—it will do for any thing-with the help of a small negation it will stand for sin, or folly, or falsehood, or treachery, or caprice, or infidelity, or any thing within the whole compass of moral defectibility. Whenever a fool committed folly, we said he was not consistent-when the falsehearted did one thing and professed another, we said they were not consistent-when the selfish betrayed their friends to serve themselves, we said they were not consistent-in short, whenever a sinner, under any form, committed sin, we said he was not consistent. I was delighted-for in all the languages I had learned, I

never found a word so universally applicable. But most of all was it valuable to designate those nameless. discrepancies in our friends which all are quick to perceive, but no one can readily describe. We were no slanderers, and would not for worlds have said those who did not please were false, or ignorant, or disagreeable, or any thing that perhaps they might not be--but we could always say they were Inconsistent, without danger of contradiction: and we did say so of every one who had the misfortune to come within our observation. In one respect, at least, we obeyed the spirit of the Christian precept-for we treated our enemies in this matter to the full as well as our friends. Among the abundant examples and countless uses of this term, I know not where to select for your information-any instance I may give you, can be but one of thousands.

We were just rid of some evening visitors with whom we had spent several hours in the rapid interchange of most polite discourse. They had said every thing that language can express, in praise of all that was in the house, or about the house, or within ken of any of the windows-and the ladies, my companions, had given back to the full the measure they had meted. If they said our drawings or fancy works were beautiful, we said they were nothing in comparison with theirs: if they praised our musick, we were surprised that they, who were used to so much better, should be so very kind as to listen to it. We said their children were the largest, and their dogs the smallest, and their jewels the brightest, and their words the wisest, in the known world for aught I knew, it might be so, for they were strangers to me. As soon as they were gone, Miss Sarah said with a sigh-" What dreadful flatterers those people are and they swallow it as willingly as they bestow it. There is no way of pleasing them, but by the grossest compliments. They are very false: I know exactly what they mean when they admire any thing

they only want you to say that something of theirs is better. I make a point of saying so directly, because I know they will be disappointed if I do not."

"Are they very superior people?" I asked." O by no means; they understand nothing, they praise every thing and every body alike, they think flattery must please others because it pleases them, and so they bestow it as liberally as they desire it."

"There is at least good nature in the intention."

'If they were more consistent in their good nature: but they will not continue to praise us in our absence, I doubt."

If they do, thought I, we shall have better than requital at their hands: but we were quite agreed that it was inconsistent to flatter people in their presence and speak ill of them the moment they were gone.

'I wish," said Matilda one morning with reference to a lady who had just made her first visit at the house, "I wish Miss N.'s conduct was more consistent. If I knew nothing of her I should be greatly taken with her manner and conversation this morning: I should really think her very sensible and serious

"And how do you know she is not?" I asked, interrupting her.

"One can only judge the tree by its fruits, and her conduct is so very inconsistent."

"In what way do you mean?"

"I really do not exactly know; I have very little acquaintance with her; I have avoided it because I think such people dangerous: but I have heard many things of her not at all consistent with a religious character. It is very easy to talk and profess, but when one knows she does not mean what she says, there is danger in having the form of godliness without the power,"

I admitted the justness of this remark, but still desired to know wherein Miss N. stood more exposed than others to this danger; for I had been much pleased with her conversation in the short visit she made us. Urged again, Matilda said Miss N. wore feathers, which she

thought not consistent with the sobriety of dress that becomes a Christian-then she had heard she went into gay company; she did not know if it was true, but she supposed it was; she often saw her speaking to people of that sort the Scriptures had required us not to be conformed to the fashions of the world. I thought the Scriptures had also commanded us not to speak evil one of another, nor to judge one another, but I did not make the remark.

"I have heard," continued Matilda- "I do not remember where I heard it—but I know I heard it from somebody that she is not particularly strict in the observance of the Sabbath-it is impossible a person can be a child of God and break his positive commandments."

I thought it was one of the positive commandments that we should not bear false witness against our neighbours. But I made no remark, at this time not quite agreeing with my friend-for, if Matilda did not know what she said to be false, she did not know it to be true; and if it was true, she had only assumed what she began with asserting, that Miss N. professed what she did not mean. How did Matilda know what Miss N. professed? In our recent conversation, confessedly the first she ever had with her, I am certain she had not professed not to wear feathers, or not to go into company; and supposing Matilda did not profess to speak no evil, and bear no false-witness, I considered that however wrong I might consider them, both or either, I could not well apply to them my favourite word-a great disappointment to me.

Seated at tea in the balcony of our house, we were conversing one evening on a melancholy occurrence in a family of the neighbourhood, in which a young person had been reduced to a state of deep and morbid melancholy, by the effects of long-protracted anxiety, ending in severe and remediless affliction. It came to be considered in the course of conversation, how far such a result was consistent with religious submission to the will of Heaven. It was very sapiently proved, that by a mind entirely de