well, pray for grace to repent, and endeavour with that measure which will be given, if sincerely asked for; for at what time soever a sinner repents-but observe, this is no licence to sin, because at any time we may repent, for that day we may not live to see; and so, like the fool in the parable, our lamps be untrimmed when we are called upon. Remember, that to forsake vice is the beginning of virtue and virtue certainly is most conducive to content of mind and a cheerful spirit. He (the virtuous man) rejoiceth with a friend in the good things he enjoys; fears not the reproaches of any; no evil spirit can approach to hurt him here, or accuse him in the great day of the Lord, when every soul shall be judged according as they have done good or evil. Oh, blessed state! fit for life, fit for death! In this good state I wish and pray for all mankind; but most particularly, and with all the ardour I am capable of, to those I have brought into the world, and those dear to them. Thus are my fervent and frequent prayers directed, that you may die the death of the righteous, and to this end, that Almighty God would endue you all with spiritual wisdom, to discern what is pleasing in his sight." The language of this letter is not in some parts altogether scriptural; as, for instance, where Lady Russell speaks of "taking care to live according to our rational faculties," &c. I trust, however, that the sound is in reality worse than the meaning; and that whatever ambiguity may rest-and ambiguity certainly does rest-upon some of her statements, she was herself trusting humbly and exclusively to the sacrifice of her Redeemer, and did not mean to convey any idea contrary to the fundamental principle of justification by faith alone, and the inabi lity of the best human actions to merit any thing from Divine justice. I would refer your readers for some remarks on this subject to the last paper of your correspondent, C. N., in his Memoir of Bishop Wilson, (see Christ. Observ. for Dec. 1820, p. 789–790). We have great reason to bless God, that in the present day the wide diffusion of sound scriptural information has done much to correct the language of theological writers; so much so, indeed, that verbal correctness is not unfrequently found where, perhaps, in reality, there is not equal accuracy of sentiment. In the last two centuries, the contrary was sometimes the case; so that certain writers, who give strong evidence of having been reallyevangelical in their views and pious in their conduct, are not always so correct as might be wished in their expressions. It is of great importance to point out this defect whereever it occurs, in order, among other reasons, that the example of such writers may not be pleaded by persons really heterodox or defective in their religious opinions. The unskilfull reader is frequently perplexed in perusing the pages of some celebrated, and, I trust, pious authors, who have unguardedly adopted current remarks and expressions which, in strictness, convey ideas very adverse to the purity of Christian doctrine. I'do not mean to infer, that the creed is not much oftener in fault than the phraseology; but it is important to guard the young and incautious reader against adopting defective views of the Gospel, from the unguarded, and sometimes even heterodox, language of highly admired theolo gical writers, who, perhaps, had they been asked strictly to define their doctrines, would have given statements very different in their complexion from those conveyed in some of their casual expressions. G. T. MISCELLANEOUS. To the Editor of the Christian Observer. IAM the squire of a country parish, in the north of -shire, where, till within the last twenty years-that is, during the incumbency of the present rector and his predecessor-we never had any methodistical doings, but were as honest hearty souls as ever mounted a hunter or cracked a bottle. But during the last twenty years there has been a sad change. I do not mean that there is more poaching, or stealing wood and poultry, or robbing barns and orchards; for in these respects we are better off than before, which I attribute entirely to these things having gone out of fashion, just like hard drinking. But what I lament is the great increase of hypocrisy in the parish. When I was a boy we had service at church only once a fortnight; and not always that, especially when the curate, for we had no resident rector, had the rheumatism; but as soon as Mr. F. the late incumbent came to reside, he performed service every Sunday morning, which, however, I did not much object to; though it was sometimes very inconvenient, for, as I made a point of attending whenever there was a sermon, it prevented my taking physic, or settling some affairs at one of my manors, a few miles off, which I had been accustomed punctually to manage on the alternate Sundays once a month. Mr. F. died twelve years ago, and left in his will a consider able legacy for a second service every Sunday, as the sinallness of the preferment had hitherto rendered it necessary for the clergyman to serve another parish in the afternoon. To attend a second service I had always considered great hypocrisy, and therefore I have never once darkened the doors of an afternoon since the endowCHRIST, OBSERV. No. 229. ment; but as the new rector Mr. H. entered with warmth into the design of his predecessor, and the bishop and patron gave their consent, I could do nothing effectual to prevent it. Mr. H. acted very puritanically in the whole of this business: I am certain he only wished to curry favour with the poor, and to spite me; though I never could see what he could get by doing so. His conduct, however, throughout, was so hypocritically amiable and obliging, that he never gave me a fair opportunity to tell him all my mind. I hate such double dealing: a good hearty quarrel clears the air like a thunder storm, and all is sunshine afterwards. Well, sir, hypocrisy, I believe, is as contagious as the plague; for in a few years half the parish began to be infected; and what with schools, and sermons, and Bibles, and prayer-books, the Sunday, instead of being a day of rest, became as busy as a market-day. Some of the principal farmers, in imitation of the parson, have had. the hypocrisy to take to coldmeat dinners on that day, that all their servants may go to church; and as for Mr. H. himself, when or how he gets his own dinner on these occasions, I cannot conjecture: he seems to me to live like a woodcock. But in order that you may understand more fully the nature of the evils of which I complain, I shall give you the following account of one of my tenants who has for many years been one of the staunchest hypocrites in the parish. Tim Dobbins was just my own age; and being my foster-brother, he used to be often, when a child, in the servants' hail at the manorhouse, where he learned many excellent and diverting tricks. As we grew up, we became constant D companions; for my father said, that though Tim was but a poor man's child, he had a good deal of spirit, and promised to be an adventurous sportsman, and might in time, after his death, make me a valuable game-keeper. In this I was a little disappointed; for though Tim was a good fellow, an exceeding good fellow, yet he took so to drinking, and, what was worse, to poaching in the preserves which he was employed to guard, that I was obliged, at length, to dismiss him. I shall not trouble you with the rest of his adventures; how often he got into prison or sat in the stocks, with similar particulars, &c. What vexed me most was, that in throwing a red-hot pokerone day at his wife, he set fire to the new cottage which I had built for him, and, being intoxicated at the time, suffered the flames to spread to one of my barns. I should not, however, have turned him out of his paddock for these offences, if he had not become a hypocrite; for I can forgive many faults, where there is a good heart. His hypocrisy was very cleverly managed. He did not, like some reprobates I have heard of, boast of sudden conversion; indeed, in order the better to keep up the stratagem, he did not boast at all; but, to the hour of his death, professed to be a miserable sinner, while all the while, I have no doubt, he thought himself quite a saint. About twenty years ago, when Mr. F. came to the parish, Tim's cottage was next to the parsonage, so that his wife and children came in for many a good thing from the rector's kitchen and dairy. Both Mr. F. and afterwards Mr. H. used to visit them and give them little books; and, I must confess, they were very kind and attentive to their wants; all which I attribute to the new-fashioned hypocrisy before-mentioned. Tim, however, would not be won on, either by words or deeds. Mr F. tried to break him of the knack of swearing, but did not succeed; for Tim, not being bred a gentleman, did not know that it is uncivil to swear before a clergyman. In three or four years, however, the rector, I perceived, began to gain a little upon him; for I once heard Tim say myself, that Mr. F. was a saint, if ever there was one on earth, and that in the end it might be better luck for us all if we were more like him. When Tim's cottage was burnt down, the rector lent him one of his own, which happened to be empty; for there was snow on the ground, and Lucy Dobbins was near her confinement: and I had vowed Tim should not have so much as a stable of mine; for, in addition to burning my cottage and barn, which I did not care a rush for, he had betted upon Lord -'s pie! bald galloway, and openly backbited the character of the finest hound in my kennel. As soon as Tim entered the cottage, he swore, with an oath, that the parson was a noble fellow; and by way of quitrent, vowed that he would never swear again while he remained in that cottage, and would even go to church some Sunday, as soon as he had won the new hat and red plush waistcoat to go in, at the cudgelmatch. He did not, however, keep either of these promises. Some time after Tim was in prison for debt; and was so ill with a neglected cold, which he had caught one night in poaching my fish-ponds, that his life was despaired of. Mr. M. attended him frequently, and gave him food and medicines; for the parish apothecary did not care to trouble himself about him.-From this period I date the commencement of Tim's misfortune. The rector prevailed on the creditor to release him, and had him moved into his old cottage, which I had by this time rebuilt for him, being much pleased with him for keeping up the honour of our county by shooting twenty pigeons in succession-nine of them right through the head, at six yards' greater distance than the best rifleman in the adjoining county, which is half as big again as ours. He was nearly twelve months before he recovered; all which time the rector and his wife continued their designs upon him. Tim's ruin was now complete. I did not see him in prison, or during his illness; for such scenes, you know, only make a man melancholy, especially as I might have chanced to encounter the parson, and have come in for a slice of his Sunday's sermon. Poor Tim, when I first saw him after his recovery, was leaning over the gate on the sunny side of his cottage, as I rode past to go to our annual cock-fight, which, I assure you, Mr. Editor, is one of the finest things in all our county. "Ah! Tim," said I, "I see you will soon be with us again." "I hope not, sir," he replied. "Hope not! and why? do you intend to hang all your life over a gate with your head thatched with a night-cap?" "My thoughts, sir," said he, "are greatly changed, and I trust, in future, to lead a very different life to what I have yet done." He added a few words more, which I did not quite understand; but they sufficed to convince me that Tim was becoming a downright bypocrite: and so I told all the company at the cockpit, who greatly applauded my sagacity, and lamented that he should have fallen, of late, into low spirits and methodistical company. Tim continued to manage his hypocrisy in a very plausible and ingenious manner. He did not make a great blaze in the village, as I expected he would have done; but went on quietly about his employments; and, to keep up the plot the better, left off drinking, and swearing, and gaming, and poaching, and stealing, and most of his old habits. I suppose he was tired of them. Nay, the sly fellow went so far that, from being the most troublesome and quarrelsome man in the hundred, he, in time, ob tained every body's good word as a civil companion, an obliging neighbour, a faithful friend, and the best paymaster in the village. Still further to keep up the farce, he contrived to save money to pay off his old debts, and subscribed a penny aweek to a Bible and Prayer-book Society; expecting, I suppose, that they would decline receiving the money. Nay, he went so far as to deceive his own family, so that even his wife and children believed him in earnest; and whereas they formerly trembled at his presence, they now became tenderly attached to him, and gave him the best of characters to the end of his life. I do not find fault with any of these good doings in themselves; indeed, I very much admire them; only in Tim they shewed great hypocrisy, because he did not even pretend that his temper and passions were changed in themselves-only that religion made him endeavour to subdue them a plain proof of doublemindedness. I need scarcely add, that he took to going to church twice every Sunday; besides which he read the Bible and Prayer-book to his wife and children at home, as often as he had an opportunity. Thus year after year he went on passing himself for a saint; and this without any sufficient motive that ever I could discover to make it worth his while to do so. It must have been the mere love of hypocrisy. I make no doubt he would have had us believe it was for conscience sake; and many people thought it was so, especially as he never made any difficulty of giving up his interest to suit his purposes. Once I warned him out of his cottage, to prevent the walls being infected with Methodism, and, to my great surprise, he left rather than give over his hypocritical doings. In short, he kept up his character to the last; and the parson has for many years spoken of him as one of the best livers in the parish, and recommended all his neighbours to imitate his example. His death bas crowned the whole; for he died as he lived, without any acknowledgment of his hypocrisy. He professed to be quite calm, and ready to go; another plain proof of insincerity, for who would die that could help it? I do not hear of his having used any extravagant expressions of joy; I suppose he was too cunning for this; but Mr. M. said, in his funeral sermon, that he was very repentant, and placed his trust in Jesus Christ our Lord; and he told us a great many of his sayings and doings, which were very good and pious in themselves, only too methodistical. other up Now, sir, what I want to know is, what can I do to stop the effects of this example? Tim's pretended repentance and good works and religious discourse, continued for so many years, have made many persons take the same kind of hypocritical religion; and they are all treading in his steps, to the great joy of the rector, who is get ting an old man and cannot see through these things. Tim's deathbed has strengthened the general impression; and if we go on as we are now beginning, I fear we must add a new gallery to the church, which would be a great expense to the parish. Pray inform me how to act. Could I not indict the rector for driving his majesty's subjects mad? My own wife and daughters, I fear, are bitten; and, to provoke me the more, are become so doubly kind and amiable, that, do what I will, I cannot find a pretext to quarrel with them. They read your work, Mr. Editor, which is the way I come to know of it; and I am in hopes that, if you admit my communication, they will be so shocked at the above exposure of hypocrisy, as to forsake their new-fangled notions, and go back to balls and cards, and other like Christian amusements, which is the hearty wish of, sir, Your obedient servant, To the Editor of the ChristianObserver. I TRANSMIT to you the following case for insertion in your miscellany, as it is widely circulated among the clergy; hoping that the decision may tend to prevent future litigation, and set at rest the scruples of those who still retain any doubt on the subject. I am informed that the present and the late bishop of the largest diocese in England both consider a clergyman right in refusing to marry unbaptized persons. It is therefore the more needful that the matter should be clearly understood. J W M. J. To Dr. J., Doctors' Commons. "Banns of marriage between Hand M were published in the parish church of K-, on three called upon to solemnize the marseveral Sundays. The Vicar being having been stated to him, that one riage, refused the request, upon its of the parties, namely J. H., bad never received the rite of baptism any person whatsoever. from "Your opinion is requested, whether marriage may be solemnized, and whether the minister may be compelled to marry, without the rite of baptism being prewhether it will be necessary to reviously administered; and, if not, publish the banns after baptism." J. T. H. To Rev. J. T. H. "Whatever may have been required by the ancient Rubrick, it is now perfectly clear, that it is not incumbent upon the new-married couple to receive the sacrament, though it is recommended as convenient to be done; and therefore the reasoning which was applicable to the law, as it then stood, is not to be applied to it in its existing state. The marriage act, it is true, requires that the true Christian and surname should be used in the publication of banus;' and perhaps, strictly speaking, there is no |