-fond of the theatre and other scenes of fashionable life-and had a great liking for cards, which often afforded them amusement, after they had finished the commercial labours of the day. In the year 1812 or 1813, they met as in former years; took a late dinner together on their arrival; and as each had a little private business to do in the city, they walked together as far as Bridge Street, and then they separated; each one jocosely alluding to the game of cards which was to be, as heretofore, the finis of the day. They soon despatched their little private business, and then roved about; and both entered the Tabernacle, though neither of them had such an intention when they left the inn; nor did they know of each other's pres-ence there. The sermon which was delivered that evening bore some reference to the commercial spirit of the people, which, under the magic influence of the great fair, recovered from its collapsed state, and became for a season their master-passion. The words of the text were," AND LOSE HIS OWN SOUL.”

The service closed, and the congregation retired; and these two men of commerce had now to wend their way back to the inn; but each one took a circuitous route; and it was later than usual before they again met. Neither of them seemed inclined to talk much, though they interchanged a few common place remarks; and then retired to rest, without making any reference to cards, which somewhat astonished both of them. They breakfasted on the following morning in the same room, but one took his breakfast before the other came down stairs, offering as an apology, when leaving, that he wished to go somewhere before he went to business. They saw each other occasionally during the hurry and the bustle of the day, but did not meet till very late at night, when the commercial room was nearly deserted of its evening crowd; and they soon after withdrew to rest. The next day came and went, with only this circumstance of variation. As there was such a large influx of the men of business, the landlord said he was under the disagreeable necessity of requesting that they would put up with the inconvenience of sleeping in a double-bedded room, though in separate beds. One of them soon retired, and the other, after waiting awhile, followed,-entering the room very cautiously, to avoid disturbing his friend, who, he presumed, would be asleep. He placed his candle on the table, concealed, as he thought, from all observation—took his chair-sat down, and began reading his New Testament, which he had purchased in the course of the day. After this he knelt by his bed-side, and continued in that position some time, but uttering no audible sound; his prayer was the prayer of the inner man of his heart. He knew the eye of God saw him; but he knew not that he was seen by the eye of another. He was mistaken. His friend had watched the whole of his doings; and when he arose from his knees, he was startled and astonished by a new utterance from lips, which had for many years given expression to very different sounds.

"My dear sir,” offering his hand, “I congratulate you. You have now been doing what the power and the grace of God have compelled me to do." What, and are you, my old friend, a man of prayer at last?”

"Yes; thanks to the God of all grace.”

"But how is this, that we, who met on Monday as men of the world, should now meet as disciples of Christ?"

"Oh! on Monday evening, I went to the Tabernacle, and heard a wonderful sermon on the loss of the soul."

"And I was there, and heard it.”

"Indeed! Did you intend to go, when we parted?”

"Such an idea never entered my mind as to go to the Tabernacle. I was drawn in by hearing the singing; and I did not know that it was a place of worship till I was in !" "I can say the same; but how marvellously singular, that we should both go, and without intending it; and that when there, the same wondrous effects should be produced in us! Why, it is almost a miraculous coincidence.”

They sat together some hours, talking about the great things the Lord had done for them, and had compassion on them, and then prayed together, and together offered their thanksgivings, for such an undeserved and unanticipated manifestation of Divine grace and love. The next morning they went together to the Tabernacle manse, and had an interview with their spiritual father, who congratulated them, prayed with them, and exhorted them,—“ That with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord."

On the 1st of September, in the year 1811, I preached a sermon in my own pulpit, from 2 Cor. ii. 14, 15,-"Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest the savour of his knowledge by us in every place. For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish." I went in the following week on a visit to my old friend Captain Q- at Weymouth; and, on the Sabbath evening, I delivered the same discourse in the chapel of which the late Dr Cracknell was resident minister. I noticed more than once during my visit, the marked attention which the young ladies paid me, especially when I was in conversation; and I had, more than once, to parry their urgent entreaty to give them a copy of the sermon; this entreaty was enforced by the solicitations of their mother. At length I very reluctantly consented, but fixed no time. About six months after this, when, in another pulpit, and in another place, I saw Mrs Q- and after service, went to the pew in which she was seated, to inquire after her welfare, and that of her interesting family. "You have not, sir, sent the sermon we so much desired."

"No, madam."

"You cannot imagine what an amount of disappointment you have occasioned. For weeks we expected it every time the coach arrived; and often have my daughters gone to the office, hoping to receive the parcel." I expressed regret. I felt some surprise that there should be such an eager desire for a sermon, which I deemed not worth transcribing.

"Perhaps, sir," Mrs added, "when I tell you the effect of that sermon on two of my daughters, you will not be astonished by what I have stated. My eldest daughter heard the sermon when you delivered it in your own pulpit; and it proved the means of her conversion to God. My younger daughter heard it at Weymouth; and the same result took place in her experience. We now have the unspeakable happiness of looking on our beloved daughters as fellow-heirs of the grace of life; and they, with the captain and myself, are very anxious to possess the instrument which God has employed to produce such grand results. We should prize it, sir, as much as an Israelite would prize the rod of Moses.”

"Say no more, madam. Forgive me. The sermon shall be copied and sent within a week." It was sent, with a letter of congratulation and advice.

What a singular coincidence! The sermon, delivered from two pulpits, situated nearly fifty miles apart; is heard first by one sister,—and, on the following Sabbath, is heard by the other, and is employed by the Divine Spirit as the instrument by which both are renewed-made new creatures in Christ Jesus, and brought into contact and fellowship with the powers of the world to come; neither of them knowing of the effect which it produced on the other, till they disclose to their honoured parents the reason why they so anxiously wished to have a copy of it. Many of the scenes and the impressions of time imperceptibly slip away from the memory, as we move on through life, and a much greater number will vanish away in passing into a purer and more dignified economy of existence; but our conversion to God, with its adjuncts of place, agent, and instrument, will perpetually recur to our recollection, and, like the fadeless bloom of a changeless spring-time of verdant beauty, will retain for ever its power of vivid and strong excitement; and will be regarded through the evolutions of endless ages, as the only event of time worthy of everlasting remembrance-the commencement, not merely of a new epoch in our history, but a new life and a new order of existence.

When residing at where I commenced my ministerial labours, I had in my congregation a newly-married couple of very intelligent and interesting young people. The gentleman was a lineal descendant of a long line of pious ancestors; but the lady could not claim the honour of such a descent. Her ancestors held rank amongst the yeomanry of the county-an honourable, but rarely a religious class of men. But though Mr W. had pious ancestors, he himself was not pious,-having, when a resident in London, eagerly followed in the wake of the votaries of fashion; while Mrs W. had received no other religious training, than what was supplied by the church catechism, and the miserable anti-evangelical ministry of her parish church. Yet they were both adorned with many personal virtues; and, with all their spiritual deficiencies, which lay concealed from the eye of casual observers, they were a beautiful speci

men of what our social nature would have been, if it had sustained no injury fr the fall. Mrs W. had just given birth to her first-born; and I very willingly cepted an invitation to pay them a visit, and have a look at the little stranger his entrance into life, bude od blood of

About three weeks before this visit, a very intelligent and sober-thinking minis dined with me, and our conversation turned on the relation which events, and of important events, bore to pre-existing impressions of the certainty of their occ rence. It took its rise from an observation of my own, that I had, on several oc sions in my ministerial life, had a vivid impression that my ministry wo at a certain service, or during a certain Sabbath, prove successful; and t my mind was at that time, and had been during the whole of the week, under su a vivid impression in reference to the labours of the following Sabbath,

The Sabbath dawned, and the impression came with it; and under its power influence I entered the pulpit, and preached in the morning from Genesis iii. "And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou My active eye was very active during that Sabbath, but I saw no one in the cong gation particularly affected; yet I had no doubt of a successful result, as I had been disappointed when brought into such a delightful state of mental feeling expectancy.

ne

On going to Mr W.'s, I resolved, as the birth of a child gave me a fine opportun to press upon both of them the importance of personal piety; and, after tea, I p posed reading and family prayer. I saw it gave pleasure.

My dear sir, you are now a father. Your child is born to live for ever. of this. It will devolve on you to train up this child in the fear of the Lord; unless you yourself are brought into fellowship with him, the duty will be but perfectly discharged. Allow me, then, to ask you one question-Do you ever f ingly and earnestly pray for the salvation of your own soul?'

My friend was deeply affected; his eye was fixed on me, but he was silent; a in a moment, by a sudden spring, of which I was unconscious till I saw the mo ment, his beloved wife, on exclaiming "My dear John," threw her arms rou his neck, and there was an audible weeping. I was literally taken by surpri nor could I refrain from sympathising with my friends, who were for some minutes too powerfully overcome by excess of feeling to give any explanation of cause of it.

She was silent for some time; evidently striving against a strong tide of feel which was flowing in her breast.

"It was exactly at that hour, and on that morning, when solemn thoughts, wh have often sprung up in my mind within the last twelve months, came upon with great force. They were too painful and oppressive to be borne; but I k not from what source to obtain relief. My hymn-book was lying on my dressing-tal I opened it, and began reading a hymn, and I thought I never read one so be tiful; but when I came to the following verses, I fell on my knees at the throne grace; and, for the first time in my life, committed my soul to the compassion love of my dear Saviour-"

"Here then from day to day

I'll wait, and hope, and try;
Can Jesus hear a sinner pray,

.ast

spuhumalo bun amrutosifood foruteng
"No; he is full of grace;

He never will permit

SI

A soul that fain would see his face, it in 190- vim tadar to mare
To perish at bis feet."
ilst out

-98 vlgailliw v197 I bus; 0 1962 til oft is fool s oved bas tier 8 árit vapot vit torgen da 9, It was indeed a touching sight to behold the husband and his wife, emerging together out of the mere forms of religion; and, under a keen sense of guilt and unworthiness, coming to Jesus Christ to be saved. From the first impressions of divine truth on their hearts, till the hour when my interrogations led to the grand discovery that they had both left the dark prison-house of spiritual ignorance and alienation from God, they had been praying for each other's conversion,-dreading lest one should be taken, and the other left to perish; but now, under very strongly excited feelings, they exchanged mutual congratulations, on account of what the Lord had so unexpectedly done for them.

It is," said Mrs W., "like a pleasant dream-the dream of an Elysian romance. But, thanks be unto God, it is no dream. It is a glorious reality. What I never anticipated."

་ ་་

-'**And what,” Mr W. replied, "I could have formed no conception of. But I ain astonished that we could have lived so long in such a state of profound ignorance and alienation from God, and yet in the habit of reading the Bible, and hearing the Gospel faithfully preached."

We knelt together at the throne of grace, and offered up our united thanksgiving for this marvellous manifestation of the loving-kindness of God our Saviour; and, as their minister, I solemnly dedicated them to his service, with their first-born, the living pledge of their mutual love. I then withdrew, musing, as the reader may naturally suppose, on the singular coincidence as to time, when the same spiritual effects were produced in both, in different places, and by a very different order of ns. Within the space of a few months I had the gratification of seeing them under my pastoral charge; Mr W. became an office-bearer of the church; and both lived to adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour. The last time I saw them, which is about ten years since, they were still holding on their way, "looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life."

means.

ST ANDREWS-PATRICK HAMILTON AND GEORGE WISHART.

In every country that has been remarkable for important struggles in the cause of religious or civil freedom, there are localities of more than ordinary interest. Such places do not require the accessories of either the grand or the beautiful, to give them value in the eyes of the beholder; they derive their attractions from the events which they recall to our thoughts. corong nor to zaths

We look with interest even upon the bleak moorland that has been the scene of a battle, and the shapeless cairn that denotes the resting-place of some honoured head, although the hero's name be unknown, or, at most, carried down to us by the doubtful testimony of misty tradition. But if history presents us with a wellauthenticated account, and enables us to associate bright names and events of national note with the scenery which surrounds us, imagination peoples the solitude; and we think not of the dreary waste, but of the stern conflict, the conquering, and the conquered. The recollections of such seenes, however, although they may produce temporary excitement of feeling, are not agreeable subjects to rest upon bloodshed and human misery cannot fail to be revolting ideas, and their details must be contemplated with horror. But it is not on this side of the picture the mind's eye is apt to dwell; it is generally cast into the shade, while the glitter of warlike array, and deeds of daring occupy the fore-ground.

But why is it, that while travellers seek with eager curiosity the ground where contending armies met in deadly strife to compass the ends of mere human ambition, they heedlessly pass by places hallowed with the memorials of those who bent the efforts of mighty minds, and risked and gave their lives for the maintenance of Bible truth? yab of vab mort a »dt 9H ”

Taste makes its own selection of localities and objects; the Christian will always

bestow a look of interest upon the graves of the martyrs, whether these be in the crowded city, or amidst the wild solitude of the heathery hills. All who value the privileges, for the possession of which the righteous contended unto the death, must view, with kindred feelings, the places where repose their mortal remains; whether they were consumed to ashes with the fires kindled by cruel bigotry, or left to bleach in the desert. They will also love to look upon the places once honoured to be the dwellings of those, who gave their living testimony to the sacredness and immutability of those truths, for which they were willing to die.

Scotland is replete with historic memorials, and offers variety to the tastes and habits of travellers, who, turning over the pages of her eventful history, may have their attention arrested by particulars of her records. Traditionary lore points to the spots where her chiefs fought among themselves for pre-eminence; history and poetry record her struggles for national independence; they record also the intellectual labours of those who willingly spent, and were spent, to secure the free exercise of conscience, and the unfettered use of the word of life.

It is indeed a noble thing to do battle for the liberties of one's country, and those places where the surges of an invading foe have been broken and forced to recoil from the barriers erected by patriot ranks, ought to be remembered in the admiration of all generations. The Christian lacks not a pulse to beat at the story of his country's exploits; but there are many who can appreciate a conqueror's laurels, who have no corresponding feeling towards the hallowed moral heroism of a martyr, because they do not rightly value that best and truest liberty wherewith Christ makes his people free. They attach small importance to the sufferings of those who preferred death to the relinquishing of their blood-bought privileges; nay, the very same lips which extol the one, brand the other with the name of enthusiasts who clamoured for matters of no vital movement.

There is perhaps no place in Scotland so rich in memorials of other days as St Andrews. It has been the theatre of many a striking event, since the time when St Regulus built his hermitage on that rocky and sea-beat shore. It wears something of the aspect of a place that has been the scene of some striking pageant, and which, after that has passed away, wears a more than usual appearance of stillness and desertion; or, it is like a forest despoiled by the tempest, which presents to the eye of the passenger blighted boughs and riven trunks.

The ruined remains of St Andrews must attract the notice of all lovers of the picturesque, for, independently of their historical importance, the still stately towers, as they stand out in bold relief from a clear sky, with the restless ocean rolling behind them, form a very beautiful scene. But they are not to be envied, who can enter this ancient town without remembering that it stands pre-eminent for good and evil in the annals of the Reformation; and if the beholder's imagination can transport him back to the stormy days of the sixteenth century, and call up some of the transactions that distinguished St Andrews at that period, it must be confessed that it is a spot well suited for deep reflection.

The doctrines of the enlightened and laborious Culdees had long ceased to animate the country, although the truths they had taught yet lingered in corners. But the influence of a dark superstitious creed had overrun the land before the question began to be mooted, whether the Romish priests were entitled to deprive the people of the Bible. At length the immoral lives of the priesthood began to be animadverted upon, and doubts to be expressed, whether such men could be infallible guides. Scotland was in this condition when the accomplished Patrick Hamilton returned to his native land, and openly proclaimed the "glad tidings" of salvation. As in every age, when opportunity is afforded them, "the common people heard him gladly," and notwithstanding that his predecessors in the same sacred path, James Risby and John Craw, had suffered martyrdom, this young, high-born, and devoted missionary failed not to declare to the people "all the words of this life." The result is well known, he was arrested and condemned to die.

One or two strangers of inferior note had been previously sacrificed, but Patrick Hamilton was no obscure person; he was too nearly connected with the highest rank in the kingdom to be put out of the way without contrivance. Stratagem was made use of to induce the destined victim to visit the seat of archiepiscopal author→ ity; and there, for a time, he was permitted to be at large, discussing occasionally,