paper. He was walking at a slow meditative pace apparently lost to the scenes which surrounded him, and wrapt in thoughtful musings. He was a tall middle aged man, of a dark complexion, rather plainly dressed, yet somewhat superior in his appearance, and I should have judged him to have been a tradesman of some respectability. He appeared to be rather confused when my near approach broke in upon the train of his thoughts; and sorrow and care were legibly impressed upon every feature of his countenance. A stile being just at hand, I stepped on one side to suffer him to cross first, and as he passed me, I observed,

It is so," I replied, "and it is a spot to which I have long been partial."

You are not a stranger, then, in these parts."

No, I have been a resident in D- for some years.' He appeared rather more composed at this, or at least I fancied so.

"There is no place," I observed, "that I should think more calculated to awaken the most elevated conception of the Deity, whose character is so observable in his works, who openeth his hand, and satisfieth the desire of every living thing." He was silent.

"It is our misfortune," I proceeded, "that while all his works praise him, and appear to be sensible of his bounty; while the limpid brook ripples his praise, and the tuneful bird celebrates his goodness, we, who have the greatest cause, are the only portion of his creatures who refuse to join." He continued silent. I hesitated as to the propriety of adding more, and we

pursued our walk in silence, uninterrupted save by occasional sighs of the stranger. I ventured at length to inquire if he was an invalid.

"Yes, sir," was returned in the same indistinct tone, and a similar silence ensued; till suddenly turning, he bade me "Good evening," and left me more than ever impressed with the conviction that he had been in a pre-eminent degree the subject of sorrow, or what was still worse, the victim of depravity.

From this hasty interview with the mysterious stranger, I was still more anxious to ascertain some particulars relative to his character and life; all my inquiries, however, were ineffectual, for of these particulars his own landlady was equally curious and equally ignorant with myself. She told me that he was civil, and always paid for what he had, though that was right little; yet there was something about him which she could not fathom; he appeared to be always thinking, walking up and down his room, and would hardly ever speak to any one; sometimes he would sit up all night, and sigh and groan, till it quite made her heart ache to hear him; "I am sure," she concluded, " that the poor man is very distracted in his mind; and yet he never complains to me that there is any thing the matter with him.”

Such intelligence was by no means calculated to afford satisfaction, or allay my curiosity. Perhaps, thought I, he is some lonely individual, who has seen the fatal shaft of death buried in the vitals of his relatives and friends; who has watched the chilling earth close upon a husband's solace and a father's joy; and could say, with greater veracity than the patriarch of old," Joseph is not, and Simeon is not." Or perhaps the ruthless blasts of adversity have swept over all his earthly prospects, and utterly destroyed all his hopes. Or perhaps but why should I weary my readers

with the enumeration of thoughts which, however plausible, could find no other basis than conjecture? Suffice it to observe, that I continued equally inquisitive, and equally ignorant, till one day I received the following letter. Respected Sir,

In addressing myself to a stranger, I feel that some apology is requisite for such an intrusion; but from the character I have heard of you as a gentleman whose benevolence is generally felt, and universally applauded, I am induced to hope that you will pardon the liberty I take in confiding to you some particulars which I have struggled to retain sufficiently long to suffer them to prey upon my constitution, and threaten a speedy termination to my earthly existence. I am a forlorn and solitary being, without one upon this wide world to consider as my friend, or by whom I am regarded with affection.

I was early left a parentless prey to the enticements of the world and the temptations of the devil; and from its earliest commencement my life has been spent in the service of sin, and in securing the misery of my soul.

When sinners enticed me I consented; and unchecked by the whispers of conscience, and unrestrained by a religious education, I plunged without remorse into every species of wickedness, and became alike an enemy to God and an enemy to man.

Gambling was for some time at once my delight and means of subsistence; and never was I absent from those scenes where inhumanity is the source of amusement, and animal suffering is made the occasion of savage sport. Thus altogether indifferent about the future, I followed no trade for my support, and was content to depend upon an uncertain supply of my wants, rather than labour in order to provide for them.

I will not enter into a minute detail of all those crimes, which have blackened the short period of my life; but will content myself with revealing one which now, in an especial manner, lies heavy on my conscience, and preys upon my very life.

Notwithstanding the course of my life has been generally bad, yet there have been some brighter spots upon the dismal scene, when wearied with the ways of iniquity, I commenced a partial reformation. It was in one of those seasons that I obtained a situation in a respectable counting-house, where, for some time, I persevered in an upright and steady behaviour, and was diligent in discharging the duties of my situation; but, alas! what might have been a blessing, I made a curse. Temptations were too powerful; money was entrusted to my care; and, having the seeds of all my former wicked practices still latent in my heart, I yielded to the artifices of the devil, embezzled a considerable sum, and escaped to this obscure village, where I have remained as yet undetected. But,

alas, sir, I feel it piercing my very soul. I feel that I am suffering in this life some foretaste of what awaits me in the next; and as I have lived without Christ, and without religion, I feel that I shall die equally destitute, and pass into eternity with all my sins upon my head.

Perhaps, sir, you will say, 'Why not surrender yourself to your employers, and thus make reparation for the injury you have done them?' Conscience, sir, has whispered the same; but I could not summon fortitude to do so. It is now too late to do it personally; but should be thankful, if permitted to entrust some of the money to your care, in order to restore to its owners, when the vital spark is extinct within me. This, sir, is the reason of my now addressing you; and, if you can so far feel for my situation, as to call

some time upon me, it will be an act of the greatest kindness to

Thus was the mystery cleared up; but how sad was the disclosure!

On the following evening I walked to the cottage where he lodged, and found that he had not been up the whole day. As I entered the room he fixed upon me a glance mingled with shame and despair; and the feelings which his letter had excited being again aroused by the sight of the individual himself, rendered my situation, at that time, truly painful and distressing. The agitation of his mind had decayed the energies of his body, and he presented an awful evidence, that it is "an evil and a bitter thing to sin against God." His spirit was now trembling upon the verge of eternity, and though escaped from an earthly tribunal, he was hurrying fast to the tremendous bar of his God, to hear the pronunciation of his everlasting destiny. I asked him how he felt?

66

Bad, sir, very bad; but the pains of my body are nothing compared to the agonies of my soul. Oh, sir, the hand of God lies heavy on me, and I feel that I am lostlost for ever!"

"There is a Saviour, I replied, who died for sinners, for the chief of sinners; and He is able to save to the very uttermost. Pray, then, for an interest in his mercy.'

Oh, sir! I would do so; but I cannot it is too late now. But why should I complain? I have spent my whole life in the service of sin, and now I am reaping the wages. I have lived without Christ, and I must die without him.

Oh,

sir, can there be mercy for a sinner such as I have been."

"It is not the number, or the magnitude of your sins that will exclude you from mercy, if you are truly penitent, are convinced of your own guilt and danger, feel the need of a Saviour, and earnest

us

ly seek to be cleansed in that blood, which the scriptures assure 'cleanseth from all sin.' You may look with hope to the cross of Christ, and implore the Saviour of mankind to extend the same mercy to you that he did to the dying thief and the very chief of sinners."

66

'Tis too late. I feel; I know that it is. Oh, sir! that I had never been born, or that I could sink into everlasting nothingness; but no, I have broken the commandment, and I must now endure the curse. There, sir," pointing to a cupboard on the other side of the room, 'you will find a little box; it contains the remnant of what I stole from my employers. I have used but barely sufficient to sustain life, and every thing I have eaten or drank, which was the produce of that money, has added to the weight which lies upon my conscience. Return it, sir, when I am gone to my account.'

I took the box, and promised to comply with his request; but all attempts to afford consolation to his mind were futile and unavailing: no promise could cheer him, no instance of past mercy to others could impart one beam of hope; and at length I left him, earnestly praying, that God would manifest that sovereign grace to him, which to some is vouchsafed, even in "the eleventh hour."

In every succeeding visit my efforts to console him were equally ineffectual, and at length, the moment arrived, that ushered his hopeless spirit into the awful presence of its Judge, and the fearful realizations of eternity.

Are there any who have read this account, still walking in the ways of iniquity? let them not suppose that the picture was drawn merely to alarm, but to convince: to prevail on them to forsake the paths of the destroyer, that so iniquity might not be their ruin. Let them beware lest they defer to a dying bed, the momentous interest of their