No. XVIII.

PRAYING.

"Thereto, when needed, she could weep and pray,

And when her listed, she could fawne and flatter;

Now smiling smoothly, like to sommer's day;

Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter;

Yet were her words but wynd, and all her tears but water.”

SPENSER.

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"AH!' to myself I thought, as I returned home, there are strong indications of the happy effects of rational religious education in my neighbour's family. How free from ostentation his wife is! There is unadulterated simplicity in her whole house; pride and vanity are repressed; self-respect is encouraged; and it is evident in the father's management of those committed to his care, that he has received the gift of wisdom, which I heard him so earnestly solicit.' Indeed,

to wish for wisdom is not far from having it; for the prayer implies that we are aware of our want of it: thence we may infer, that he who forwards a petition so pregnant with self-knowledge and humility, has nearly removed the rubbish from that mine, the produce of which Solomon thought more precious than fine gold.

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Religious families are all self-knowing. Reflection is generated by fixing thought on futurity, and withdrawing affection from a transitory world. A tree is known by its fruit; and we always find the sincere Christian conspicuous for good works. It is impossible to imitate the character of our Saviour, without making a progress in virtue. He was an obedient and affectionate son; a mild and merciful master; a tender and constant friend, too noble to be selfish; and so disinterested, that he sought nothing for himself, but gave his life as a ransom, even for his enemies.

"It is on account of the practical effects of religion, that I prefer its hypocritical semblance to its mockery. The seeming Christian endeavours to preserve consistency between his pro

fessions and his actions. If he support a character void of offence, he is a harmless member of society; and if he practise the active virtues of religion, he benefits his fellow-men, and renders political service to his king and country. But a bold scoffer professes to be a libertine. Is it not natural to expect that he will endeavour to be as consistent as the hypocrite? What may we look for, then, in consequence? Why, the seduction of his friend's wife or daughter; the ruin of every thing that gratifies passion; and the destruction of what opposes it. True, he takes assumed refuge behind the shield of spurious honour; and, if he have taken away the life of a companion, he says, 'I risked my own in doing so.' But what was his merit? He perhaps deprived society of a useful member: if he had lost his own worthless life, would any one have regretted the stake he hazarded? A truly honourable mind would never descend to the degradation of a gamester, who seeks to win my gold with gilded brass. No! prime honour is a heaven-born substitute for religion. In moral effect, I see little difference. The religious man fears to do a mean action; an

honourable one scorns it: he who fears God obeys his conscience; and he who honours himself dreads what will not dare to be probed by reflection.

"These considerations prevent me from ridiculing my religious neighbour, the good Earl of

-, at one of whose family-lectures I had the honour of being present, some time ago.

"He had invited a large company on the occasion, and his lordship assumed all the formal exterior of a Methodist preacher. In person he is tall and robust, with a heavy cast of features, deep black hair, a cranium perhaps not well expanded, and eye-brows projecting rather too far beyond the line of judgment. His lordship certainly belongs to the class of susceptibility and acquired talent. He has an expression of deep melancholy in his face, and much religious fervour in his looks and manners. His actions fully correspond with the professions he makes of zeal as a servant of God. His lordship has done good to a surprising extent: he has established schools; promoted industry and order; circulated moral tracts; aided the Bible Society; con