grateful testimony :—“ While my father was in America, my dear mother paid particular attention to the concerns of my soul. Frequently did she take me aside into her closet to talk and pray with me. Often did she relate the dealings of God with herself;-how, when she was about sixteen years old, she was convinced of sin, and experienced the love of God shed abroad in her heart by the Holy Ghost; that she knew her sins forgiven, and that her Redeemer lived. Frequently and affectionately did she press the necessity of conversion and the new birth upon my conscience. Nor were her godly admonitions altogether in vain. They deeply affected me. Many times they sent me to my closet to my knees, where with tears I besought the Lord for mercy."

It were gratifying to be able to relate that these relentings of heart, and applications for mercy, issued in true conversion; that blossoms of promise so fair, were soon followed by the fruits of righteousness. But we are denied that satisfaction. Even the pathos of maternal eloquence, though its subjects be replete with overwhelming interest-the love of the Saviour, and the joys and woes of a never ending existence,-has not power to win the alienated affections to God. Assailed by this species of benignant aggression, the heart may, indeed, throw off its shield of wonted obduracy, it may tremble with alarm, and dissolve in natural sensibility, and agonize with apparent contrition; but such symptoms of godly sorrow are by no means unequivocal; they are hopeful presages, but no certain indications of that "repentance unto salvation which needeth not to be repented of." We are in no danger, we conceive, by this suggestion, of discouraging the efforts of religious parents to pro

mote the immortal interests of their children. They have not to learn that although the renovation of the heart in righteousness is the achievement, not of human suasion, but of divine agency, that agency is put forth in connection with the use of means, of which the necessity of a superior power to render them efficient can neither justify nor extenuate the neglect. It will therefore be their wisdom, in a department of relative responsibility, where the requisitions of duty blend with the promptings of natural affection, to imitate the unceasing assiduity of the provident husbandman, who "in the morning sows his seed, and in the evening withholds not his hand; for he knows not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they shall be alike good.”

One of the most usual and seductive temptations in the way of young people's embracing religion, when awakened to a perception of its necessity, arises from a wrong estimate of its genius and tendency in relation to their immediate happiness. Unreserved consecration to the service of God, however conducive, in their estimation, to future felicity, involves, they ima-. gine, to a great extent, the renunciation of present enjoyment. The idea is as unjust as it is pernicious. The religion of the Lord Jesus Christ is not the stern prohibitress of pleasure, but, according to his own beautiful description of it, in his conversation with the woman of Samaria,-the salient well-spring of all that is pure and lofty in true blessedness, "springing up unto eternal life." Her ways are indeed "ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.” Had this view of the influence of real religion been entertained by the subject of these memoirs, when under the affecting teachings of his mother, his mind was

so deeply impressed, the result would probably have been more auspicious. "But alas !" he laments, "that subtle adversary, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour, soon suggested, 'It is too soon for you to be religious yet. It will destroy all your happiness, cut off all your pleasures, and make you a laughing stock to every boy in the school.' With this and such like temptations he prevailed. I quenched the spirit of God and drove away my concern in a great measure, so that I could sin on as before."

In the month of April, 1775, the whole family sailed from Hull, on board the Jenny, Captain Foster; and after a propitious passage, arrived at Halifax, Nova Scotia. When they were within three miles of Halifax the vessel struck upon some rocks, not however with such violence as to injure her; and as the accident occurred at low water, she was carried off by the returning tide. After remaining about a fortnight in Halifax, they sailed for Cumberland, where they arrived in June. Mr. Black pays a tribute, short yet full, and extremely pleasing, to the memory of Captain Foster, which shall, in accordance with the intention of the writer, be coeval with this page :-" Captain Foster was a pattern to mariners, especially to masters of vessels. I never heard him speak a rash word. Nor did I, to my knowledge, hear an oath, from the time we left England until we arrived in Halifax harbour, either by mariner or passenger, although I suppose there were about ninety souls on board. The Captain used to call all that could and would, to come into the cabin, morning and evening, and pray with them himself. He maintained the strictest order on board the vessel. What a pity so few masters of vessels imitate him!" The

day is approaching when the most splendid and lasting work of the statuary will be deemed an infinitely less estimable memorial than a deserved tribute like the preceding.

On coming to America Mr. Black naturally formed new associations; and they unfortunately happened to be of a class ill adapted to cherish or renew his serious impressions. He soon drank into their spirit, and became one of the most gay and thoughtless of the circle. “On my arrival here,” he writes, "I grew in wickedness, as I grew in years, turning the precious mercy of God into lasciviousness." To such a pitch of insensibility did he, by wilfully suppressing his convictions, rapidly arrive, that danger the most appalling failed to arrest or alarm him, in his reckless career. "If I remember correctly," he continues, “in the fall of 1776, a few people came from Machias, raised all who were disaffected to, and disarmed all who were friends of the Government, in the county of Cumberland. They forbade us to stir off our farms, burnt the town, and threatened many with imprisonment and death. As there were but a handful of men in the garrison, and they knew not the weakness of the rebels, they did not attempt to come out to relieve the country, till reinforced by the arrival of a frigate from Halifax. In the night, they would frequently fire upon the garrison, and the garrison upon them. Now, here was a time that called for repentance and preparation for death. But my ears were shut to all the warnings of Providence. It was our usual custom at this time to sit up whole nights at the ridiculous practice of shuffling backwards and forwards a few spotted pieces of paste-board.-When we heard the cannons roar or the discharge of the

musketry, we have frequently gone awhile from our cards to watch the flashing of the guns, during the hottest of the fire, and, as soon as that was over, returned again. We could easily see the garrison from my father's house. Thus was our precious time spent in the vainest of vanity. I do not see how any man that believes the Bible can reconcile himself to card-playing. It is childish, irrational, and far beneath the dignity of an immortal. About this time we began to frolic and dance, for whole nights together; sometimes four or five nights in the week. Yet I did not find happiness in it. I have sometimes put my fingers in my ears to stop the sound of the music, and then said within myself, 'What fools are we! to leap up and down like so many wild Indians round a fire.' Still I loved it." Palpably incompatible as the course he was now pursuing was with the service of the Lord, yet, blinded by the god of this world, he vainly attempted to conciliate them. He had not made up his mind to perish forever; and he knew the prayerless shall not enter heaven. Hence he says, "I frequently, at this time, would pray in a formal manner.

I

durst not wholly neglect it; and yet my conduct was such, and the spirit of dancing was so contrary to the spirit of prayer, that I hardly durst use it." In this unhappy state of mental conflict he continued for two or three years; his convictions, on the one hand, poisoning all his carnal pleasures, and his enslavement to those pleasures, increased by the seductive influence of association, and the force of habit, preventing him, on the other, from acting in accordance with his convictions. This is no peculiar case. Many a breast, it is believed, which appears from the smiles that play upon the countenance, to be the seat of serenity and