How an infidel supports himself on a sick-bed.

one night, from a scene of revelry, he was thrown from his horse, and so seriously injured, that his life for some time was despaired of. During his confinement, it was observable to all who visited him, how bitter and dreadful the thoughts of death were to him. Not a word of infidelity, nor an oath, dropped from his lips while he lay thus near the confines of eternity.

Hopes were then entertained that a permanent change would be wrought in him. But the first place he visited, after leaving his sick room, was a rum-stall. He immediately returned to his former courses, apparently with increased relish-certainly with more unbridled indulgence.

It now became evident to all, that the excess and dissipation in which he indulged would soon break down his constitution, and terminate his life. The event showed that these apprehensions were well grounded.

A few months after his acts of cruelty had banished his wife and daughter from his home, he was attacked with an inflammatory complaint, which daily became more and more alarming, and threatened to terminate speedily his earthly career.

He at first did not consider his disease dangerous, and therefore, with the help of his companions, who were often with him, he for a while kept up his spirits. The profane jest, the loud laugh, and the merry carousal, dissipated the gloom and tediousness of the sick room. But as the violence of his disorder increased, the visits of these profligate companions became more seldom. For vice and profligacy do not love to look upon the grisly features of the king of terrors.

Mr. Lindsley began to feel the want of that kind attendance which mitigates the sufferings, and eases the pains of a sick-bed. He thought of his mother-she was in her grave. He thought of his wife-wormwood and gall were in that thought! Why was she not by his side ? Often had she tended around his bed of sickness with all the nursing care and tenderness which fond attention could

dictate. Why did not her meek and gentle form now stand by the side of that couch of languishing? Ah, he knew too well the cause; and the remembrance of it was like a poniard to his heart.

Mr. Lindsley had now to spend many hours alonethey were hours of darkness, of desolateness, and direful anguish—often filled up with oaths, imprecations, and blasphemy. At times the frail form of his much injured and heart-broken wife would seem to glide before him— and then for a moment his feelings would relent, and the determination would be formed, that she should be entreated to return. But as the thought was revolved over in his mind, pride would start up, and force him to a different conclusion. 66 No," he would 66 say, never shall the words I uttered when she for the last time bade me adieu, be recalled. I then said, and the word shall never be revoked-Go-go to those you care more for than for me, and know that your presence will never be again welcomed beneath this roof, till my body is borne lifeless over that threshold."

It was in the midst of these reflections, that the minister of the place, a young man, ardent in his feelings, and bent upon being faithful to the souls committed to his charge, called upon Mr. Lindsley. He was acquainted with the history of the man, and knowing that he stood upon the borders of eternity, he thought it his duty to warn him of the awful plunge he was about to make. With a firm and fearless voice he told him, "That dying in his present state he would sink into everlasting ruin-that nothing but the blood of Christ could wash away the ten thousand stains of guilt with which he was defiled—that he must repent— that he must have faith in Christ-that his heart must be changed, else there was not the slightest hope for himthat he had no time to spare-that he ought to pray every instant until death stopt his breath—and that with his permission he would now appeal to the throne of grace in his behalf."

The enmity of the natural heart.

Delusive expedient.

All this was kindly intended. It evinced faithfulness on the part of the man of God. But at the same time, there was, perhaps, a want of prudence in the manner in which this conversation was introduced. It stirred up the fierce passions, and exasperated the maddened feelings, of this dying profligate. His "face gathered blackness," and there was visible upon every feature wrath, and bitterness, and scorn. Stubborn and unsubdued, he spurned all his entreaties and counsel, and bade him "not to presume to be his mouth-piece to the Almighty.”

A few days after this interview, this wretched man became, for the first time, impressed with the full conviction that he should never recover. The thought of death, judgment, and the solemn realities of the Bible, filled his soul with consternation and dread. Like a drowning man, he now stretched out his hands-eager to grasp at any thing that afforded the slightest hope of keeping him from sinking into the dreadful gulf that gaped beneath. He remembered that the Rev. Mr. Z- was officiating in a neighbouring village. On a former occasion, when in great affliction, this man had poured the balm of Christian consolation into his wounded heart. It was he that officiated (he then being their pastor) at the funeral of Mr. Lindsley's son, whose death has been noticed in the former part of this narrative.

For the character of this man Mr. Lindsley still retained a high respect. And now that life seemed waning, and the awful scenes of eternity were ready to burst upon him, he felt no disposition to wear longer the wretched mask of hypocrisy. He wished for a spiritual counsellor. A request was accordingly sent to the Rev. Mr. Z- soliciting the favour of a visit.

9

This man was truly venerable and apostolic in his appearance. Age had added to a stout and well-proportioned form a dignity that comported admirably with his sacred office. The sweetness of his temper, and the amiability of his heart, exhibited themselves not only in the soft and

The character of an aged minister.

persuasive accents in which he spoke, but in the striking and uniform urbanity and gentleness of his manners. But with this great mildness, he united decision and energy of character. In all matters of indifference, the benevolence of his heart led him to be as yielding to the wishes of those around him as the flexile reed to the wind; but where duty or principle was involved, he was as firm and immovable as the ocean rock that has remained for centuries unmoved, amid the fierce dashing of ten thousand

waves.

Such was the character of the man that, in obedience to the summons he had received, now approached the sick-bed of Mr. Lindsley. Kindness beamed upon his countenance as he entered the room, and the first expressions of sympathy he uttered for the sufferer before him, gave naturally a serious and religious turn to the conversation. He affectionately entreated the sick and dying man to " acquaint himself with God, and be at peace." He set before him, in a succinct and luminous manner, the way of salvation— "repentance towards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ."

To all this Mr. Lindsley seemed to listen, as to something that was to be said, as a matter of course. As Mr. Z-paused, he rather abruptly, and in a tone that savoured little of broken-hearted contrition, said, very 66 Sir, I have sent for you to baptize me."

"Nothing," replied the man of God, "can give me higher satisfaction, than to administer to you this holy rite, if you can exhibit evidence that you possess proper qualifications for receiving it. It is not to be concealed," continued Mr. Z—, “for standing here as the minister and messenger of God, I dare not speak smooth things or prophesy deceits'—it is not to be concealed, that you have lived in open and avowed disbelief of the Christian religion-you cannot receive baptism without declaring your decided belief in the truth of this religion."

The interview.

"That I can honestly and sincerely do," said the sick

man.

"No man liveth and sinneth not," continued the aged minister; "and every returning sinner, before he can be admitted into the fold of Jesus, must confess, bewail, and renounce his sins-the best man living has sins enough to mourn over and must be finally saved, if saved at all, by free and unmerited grace. But, you, I say it in kindness, you have been no common sinner. There is a load of guilt on your soul, which, if its whole weight be felt, must press you down very low in the depths of sorrow."

“I know it, I feel it," replied Mr. Lindsley, with more emotion than he had before exhibited; "I have been a wicked, a very wicked man, but I repent me of my sins."

"You are then willing to declare that you solemnly and for ever renounce the devil and all his works,'—that you will hereafter turn from and detest sin, and whatever is sinful?"

"I am ready to do this," responded Mr. Lindsley.

"O, sir," continued the faithful minister, "it is a very solemn business to put ourselves in the attitude of covenanting with God. His piercing eye looks into the inmost

recesses of the heart-he sees the hidden motive-he cannot be deceived--he will not be mocked; allow me to read the interrogatories that will be addressed to you at the time of baptism."

Here Mr. Z read, from the baptismal service, the questions that are put to the candidate immediately previous to his receiving that solemn ordinance, inquiring of the sick man, at the close of each question, if he could in sincerity subscribe to what was there demanded.

To each of which he replied by the single monosyllable, "Yes."

"Mr. Lindsley," said this venerable negotiator between God and man, new energy lighting up his countenance as he spoke: "Mr. Lindsley, I wish you to be saved-and therefore I must deal faithfully with you. Have you

.