the other proselytism; the means by which these objects are to be accomplished are respectively persecution, and the exhibition of a holy and consistent life. The fanatic may be stimulated to deeds of intrepidity from which the humble and diffident Christian shrinks; the fanatic rests more on the tone of his organization, the Christian on the rectitude of his principles; the one acts from the fervour of emotion, the other from the consistency of duty; the one is stimulated by the prospect of some fancied joy, the other by the desire of obedience to the will, and imitation of the character of Christ. Fanaticism will not be very scrupulous about the means of accomplishing its purpose; the only weapon of Christianity is the example of the incarnate Saviour, in his life, and ministry, and sufferings. The Christian's courage is an abiding principle, while that of fanaticism is evanescent, and will wear itself out if not contradicted and opposed. Fanaticism earnestly contends for, and holds most dear, some points which are contrary to reason, while the Christian's courage is exerted only in the defence of that which is rational. The course of the fanatic may be marked by a more brilliant glare, but it will be a lurid and deceitful light, and will diffuse less warmth than the clear and steady shining of the Christian, uniformly pursuing his unwearied track, and by its genial warmth calling into life many excellent virtues.

Finally, the courage of the Christian is evinced.

by patience under the many difficulties and vexations of life, those minor ills, which scarcely call for exertion to fight against, and which, from their very minuteness and diminutive power, are too often overlooked, as not requiring the exercise of Christian principle; and thus frequently prove a snare, from the want of watchfulness. There are many occasions of life too trifling to demand a serious struggle, in which the mind is disturbed and rendered uneasy and irritable, and on which courage, if duly exercised, wonld produce that intrepid resignation, that imperturbable calm, that victory over passion, that effort of self-denial, that abandonment of our own will, that ready sacrifice of earthly good, and present opinion, and wounded pride, and disappointed hope, which would preserve the mind quietly resting on that sure and steady centre of peace, and patience, and confidence, which will save it from becoming the sport of every wave of passion, or feeling, or prejudice; and will lead it to wait until the providence of God shall see fit to deliver it from these circumstances of trial: "wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart; wait, I say, on the Lord." Psalm xxvii. 14. "Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in a guide; keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in thy bosom: a man's enemies are the men of his own house, therefore I will look unto the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me." Micah vii. 5, 6, 7. Such then are the principles upon which Christian

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courage is to be educated, and led forward from victory to victory, unto the measure of the stature of the perfect man in Christ Jesus.

SECTION X. Of Ennui.

ENNUI is the sad prerogative of civilized life, and of that absence from energetic pursuit, which is so essential to the happiness of man. It will generally be found in inverse proportion to the manifestation of intellectual and bodily vigour; and it haunts particularly the footsteps of the rich and the luxurious, whose situation would be improved, could they exchange the gloomy shadows with which it surrounds the evening of life, for the real sorrows, the toil and care of those who are struggling with adversity, and who have no hope of obtaining the bread of their daily meal, but by daily exertion. Ennui too commonly fastens upon the retirement of him who has laboured for years to obtain freedom from business; whose mind has been harassed by incessant application, and who has sighed from day to day after the leisure of the country. But now, having realized the object of his desires, and having obtained for himself all that will be necessary to exhaust his wishes, he sits down in his rural villa, and finds too late, that enjoyment has fled with the recurrence of daily pursuit. He is amused, indeed, while the charm and freshness of novelty

last, with the decoration of his grounds; but in proportion as he is intimately acquainted with every tree, and every scite, and every prospect, these all become insipid; he loses his relish for simple pleasures; from his habits of business he has probably few intellectual resources; dissatisfaction broods upon his forehead, disturbs his slumbers with images of happiness which are lost to him for ever; he wakens with a sigh; the very play of his life is an oppression; without a single cause for uneasiness, trouble gnaws his bosom ; every object is viewed through a distorted medium; nothing gives him pleasure; even the beauty and activity of spring fall as a blast upon his prospects, for he compares its jocund hours with the misery within; from every circumstance around him he extracts bitterness; his health fails; his nerves are rendered irritable; his temper, soured by disappointment, becomes gloomy and morose; and he lives a monument of the feebleness and impotence of man, and of the impossibility of finding happiness in this world's goods; or he dies unregretted, with the cloud of uncertainty upon his future prospects. Then it is generally that he would give wealth to prolong that life which has been so burdensome, and which the wearisomeness of continuance has probably hastened to a close.

But ennui is not confined to the retirement of the merchant; it will be seen in close attendance upon the man of letters-upon him who has spent the best years of his life in colleges, or in solitude,

that he might secure competence and comforts to his old age; but who, having obtained the object of his hopes and his privations, finds that he has lost the relish for their enjoyment; even his books fail to afford their accustomed resource; the little vexations which surround him become intolerable burdens in the midst of affluence he anticipates want, and feels all the misery of indigence, without any of its alleviations; he would give much to be re-instated in his former situation, and the consciousness of having thrown away his real enjoyments, and the shame of possessing a wish for the possibility of their return, and the tastelessness of unbroken pleasure, the insipidity of his occupations, the absence of positive care, all aggravate his regret, and convert him into the peevish, irritable, fretful, melancholic child of uncontrouled sensibility; he feels at every point when he ought not to feel, while he is deaf and blind to the proper objects of pleasure; his senses are perverted; his intellectual faculties jaded by perpetual irritation without an object; his imagination tortured by images of horror; and his will so completely deprived of its stability, that the waywardness of infancy, and the imbecility of extreme old age, alike combine to render him a source of misery to himself, and a burden to others.

In these several states, it is clear that there is a forgetfulness of the Providence of God, as well as of the gratitude due to the author of our blessings; and of the duties with which these should