At this time the Terror was so close to us, that when she rose to the top of one wave, the Erebus was on the top of that next to leeward of her; the deep chasm between them filled with heavy rolling masses; and as the ships descended into the hollow between the waves, the maintop-sail yard of each could be seen just level with the crest of the intervening wave, from the deck of the other: from this, some idea may be formed of the height of the waves, as well as of the perilous situation of our ships.

The night now began to draw in, and cast its gloomy mantle over the appalling scene, rendering our condition, if possible, more hopeless and helpless than before; but at midnight, the snow, which had been falling thickly for several hours, cleared away, as the wind suddenly shifted to the westward, and the swell began to subside; and although the shocks our ships still sustained were such that must have destroyed any ordinary vessel in less than five minutes, yet they were feeble compared with those to which we had been exposed, and our minds became more at ease for their ultimate safety. During the darkness of the night, and the thick weather, we had been carried through a chain of bergs which were seen in the morning considerably to windward, and which served to keep off the heavy pressure of the pack, so that we found the ice much more open, and I was enabled to make my way in one of our boats to the Terror, about whose condition I was most anxious, for I was aware that her damages were of a much more serious nature than those of the Erebus, notwithstanding the skilful and seamanlike manner in which she had been managed, and by which she maintained her appointed station throughout the gale. I found that her rudder was completely broken to pieces, and the fastenings to the stern-posts so much strained and twisted, that it would be very difficult to get the spare rudder, with which we were fortunately provided, fitted so as to be useful, and could only be done, if at all, under very favourable circumstances. The other damages she had sustained were of less consequence; and it was as great a satisfaction as it has ever been a source of astonishment to us to find that, after so many hours of constant and violent thumping, both the vessels were nearly as tight as they were before the gale. We can only ascribe this to the admirable manner in which they had been fortified

for the service, and to our having their holds so stowed as to form a solid mass throughout.

THE BENEFIT OF CHRIST'S DEATH.

To the end that this point, wherein lieth and consisteth the whole mystery of our holy faith, may be understood the better, let us put the case, that some good and holy king cause the proclamation to be made through his whole realm by the sound of a trumpet, that all rebels and banished men shall safely return home to their houses, because that at the suit and desert of some dear friend of theirs it hath pleased him to pardon them; certainly none of those rebels ought to doubt of the obtaining of true pardon of his rebellion, but rather ought assuredly to return home to his house, to live under the shadow of that holy king. And, if he will not return, he shall bear the penalty of it, because that through his own unbelief he dieth in exile, and in the displeasure of his prince. But this good King is the Lord of heaven and earth; who, for the obedience and desert of our good brother, Jesus Christ, hath pardoned us all our sins, and, as we have said afore, hath made open proclamation through the whole world, that all of us may safely return into his kingdom. Wherefore he that believeth this proclamation doth straightways return into God's kingdom (whereout we were driven by the offence of our first parents,) and [is] blessedly governed by God's Holy Spirit. And he that giveth no credit to the said proclamation shall never enjoy the said general pardon, but for his unbelief's sake shall abide in banishment under the tyranny of the devil, and live and die in extreme misery, living and dying in the displeasure of the King of heaven and earth-and that justly. For we cannot commit a greater offence against this good God, than to account him as a liar and deceiver; which verily we do, in not giving credit to his promises.

Oh, how passing heavy is this deadly sin of unbelief! which, so far forth as is possible, bereaveth God of his glory and perfection; besides the great harm that it doth to a man's self, which is his own damnation and the endless torment of his soul, which the miserable conscience feeleth even in this life. But, on the contrary, he, that cometh unto God with assuredness of this faith, believing him

without any mistrust or doubt of his promises, and warranting himself for a certainty, that God will perform all that ever he hath promised him, giveth all the glory unto God,* and liveth continually in rest and endless joy, evermore praising and thanking the Lord God, for choosing him to the glory of the eternal life.

And hereof they have an assured earnest-penny and gage, that is to wit, the Son of God, whom they take for their most loving Bridegroom, the blood of whom hath made their hearts so drunken, that, through this passing holy belief, there is in the Christian heart engendered so lively a hope, and so certain a trust of God's mercy towards us, and such an operation is wrought in us, as we rest ourselves wholly upon God, leaving the whole care of us unto him in such wise, that, being thoroughly assured of God's good will, we are not afraid, neither of the devil, nor of his ministers, nor of death. Which holy and stedfast trust of God's mercy enlargeth our heart, cheereth it up, and with certain marvellous sweet affections directeth it unto God, filling it and setting it on fire with an exceeding fervent love. And therefore Paul encourageth us to "go with all boldness to the throne of grace;"t and he counselleth us that we should not shake it off, nor "make light of our trust, which hath great recompence and reward."‡

But this so holy and Divine affiance is gendered in our hearts by the working of the Holy Ghost, who is communicated unto us by faith, which never goeth without the love of God. And hereof it cometh that we be provoked to do good works with a certain liveliness and effectual cheerfulness; whereby we gather such a strength and inclination to do them, as we be throughly ready and forward to do and suffer all intolerable things for the love and glory of our most gracious and merciful Father; who hath enriched us with so abundant grace through Jesus Christ, and of his enemies made us his most dear children. This true faith is no sooner given a man, but he is by and by endued and imprinted with a certain violent love of good works, to yield right sweet and amiable fruits both unto God, and likewise to his neighbour, as a very good and fruitful tree. And it is no more possible that he should

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be otherwise, than it is possible that a faggot should be set on fire, and not cast light immediately.

This is the holy faith, "without the which it is unpossible that any man should please God,"* and whereby all the | holy men, (as well of the Old Testament as of the New,) have been saved, according as St. Paul witnesseth of Abraham; concerning whom the Scripture saith, that "Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him for righteousness." And therefore he saith a little before: "We believe that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law." And in another place he saith : "So then in that time shall the remnant be saved, according to the election of grace; and, if they be saved by grace, then is it not by works; for then were grace no grace." And to the Galatians he saith: "It is a manifest matter that no man becometh righteous before God by the law; because the righteous liveth by faith. And the law consisteth not in belief, but he that performeth the things that the law commandeth shall live by that performance."§ And further he saith, that "a man cannot become righteous by the deeds of the law, but only by believing in Jesus Christ." Again, a little after he saith that, "If a man can become righteous by the law, Jesus Christ died in vain." Moreover to the Romans, making comparison between the righteousness of the law and the righteousness of the gospel, he saith that the one consisteth in the doing of works, and the other in believing: "For, if thou confess our Lord Jesus Christ with thy mouth, and believe in thy heart that God hath raised him up from death, thou shalt be saved. For the belief of the heart maketh a man righteous; and the confession of the mouth maketh him safe."**

Lo! how this good teacher St. Paul showeth evidently, that faith maketh a man righteous without any works.Paleario's Benefit of Christ's Death, (in the press.)

MY LODGERS.

No. VII.

AMONG the latest of my lodgers, though not the last, was a family whom I shall call Browne. This family consisted of a father and mother, and a son and daughter, with as many servants, more or less, as my readers may think were necessary to their comfort.

Mr. Browne had been a tradesman. If I had known this before my first negotiations with him, the probability is, that I should have refused to negotiate at all; for I had, somehow or other, acquired a most unworthy and contemptible contempt of persons who had debased themselves by the petty transactions of business. Professional gentlemen, of course, were exempted from this sweeping condemnation; manufacturers were exempted also, provided they carried on their operations on a large scale; wholesale_merchants were bearable-but retail tradesmen!-could any good thing come out of a shop?

But let this pass-it is one of the exploded fancies of a foolish and, in inany respects, untaught woman of thirty years ago nor would I have alluded to it, could I but hope that the fancy is equally a by-gone prejudice in the world around. But, alas! alas! pride, sinful pride; ignorance, perking ignorance, will have their sway; and though, as I think becomes me, I can but lift up my feeble voice, and point my well-nigh worn-out pen against the ridiculous foolery of a folly-steeped world, I doubt the utility of my feeble attempt. Nevertheless, Ŏ ye who scorn the industry of the counter -who prate of the inherent vulgarity of shopkeepers, shopmen, and apprentices -who shrink from contact with things so mean, and`minds so contracted-take heed to yourselves, lest the growing intelligence and rapidly increasing enlightenment, and expanding mental vigour of their class, should outstrip, if it have not already outstripped, the ponderous inanity of your own; and outshine, if it do not already outshine, its boasted polish.

Do not, kind reader, accuse me of needlessly diverging from my markedout path, in thus far condemning myself, that I once-although dependent upon lodgers for my daily bread-wrapped myself mightily close in the faded

old cloak of gentility; and in thus far vindicating myself, that I have determinately thrown it aside, for the more becoming garb of a common humanity; having learned to say, with poor Burns,

"The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
A man's a man for all that."

The fact is, being about to lay bare a class weakness in my tradesman lodger, it is necessary-I think so, at least-to disclaim all sympathy with class-prejudices.

Mr. Browne, then, had been a London tradesman; had retired from business with a sufficient competency; and, for some reason unknown, had chosen our old-fashioned, quiet town, and my oldfashioned house, for his future home. He was well-advanced in years, grave in his deportment, and precise to a nicety in his dress. How, to the comprehension of the youth of these days, can the dress and toilet of an old-fashioned old gentleman (beau I should be loth to say, in this case of thirty years since,) be described? Think, my young friend, of a well-powdered head of hair, scanty on the crown, but extended behind into what is vulgarly called a pigtail; a complete suit of good broadcloth, as to material and as to colour resembling more than anything else within my present recollection, a dish of well-mingled strawberries and cream: think, also, of voluminous foldings of spotless muslin, innocent of starch, around the throat; a frill and ruffles of the purest cambric, shoes of the most intense polish; knee-buckles and shoe-buckles of massive gold; white stockings of the richest silk, and all unconscious of a darn;-think of these things, and you will have before you the gala habiliments of Mr. Browne.

But great would be your mistake, did you imagine that these outward decorations indicated a barren or an insignificant soul; they were things of habit, not of study. To know my lodger aright, and to respect his mental attainments, it was needful to listen from day to day to the outpourings of his well-stored mind, and to test the soundness of his judgment by actual experience; to appreciate his moral worth, it was equally necessary to witness his inflexible integrity, and his domestic virtues; and to decide upon his religious character, it was well first to observe the daily exercise of those characteristics of evangelical piety which

we are led to believe are "the fruits of the Spirit" of God.

And yet, with all these excellencies, there was one weakness, as I have before hinted, which at length turned a house of joy into a house of mourning, and brought down the grey hairs of a repenting parent with sorrow to the grave.

But before I enter upon this subject, I must needs bestow a few words upon my female lodger and her daughter. Conveniently enough for my space, a few words will suffice. Of all the men who ever lived in the world, Mr. Browne was, in the estimation of Mrs. Browne, the very best; his opinions, with her, had the weight of all kinds of authority; and his very infirmities (I should rather say infirmity) of temper, and the weak side of his character, were hallowed by her, and exalted into very virtues. This was one, and the principal characteristic of Mrs. Browne; after this, I need scarcely say that she was very considerably younger than her husband. For the rest, she was intelligent, though not learned, good tempered, diligent, and rather fussy. I soon got to like her, however; and though I did not reverence her husband quite to the extent of her desires, I showed sufficient respect to him to induce her to like me.

Kitty Browne was a delicate little thing of twelve years old; so delicate as to be considered a destined victim to consumption. It may be, that care for her health had induced her anxious parents to court a change of air, scene, and occupation, to which otherwise I can but think they were averse. But this needs confirmation. Be it as it may, the tender girl appeared to gain strength. Colour came to her cheek, and energy to her spirit in course of years her hand was given away in marriage, and a long and happy life might have been hoped for the blooming bride. Alas! no-disease had been retarded, but not entirely subdued. In one short year-ah, even at that gay bridal, the doom had gone forth -"This year shalt thou die!" Happy for her was it, that she had "so numbered her days as to apply her heart unto wisdom;' that for her "to live was Christ; to die, gain."

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course, as he thought, undecided. He was a lovely youth." Surely never lived one, of whom it could with more justice and certainty be said, "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God:"-not far from it; but, alas! not of it. But now I must turn back to what I have before noted-the one weakness (as I can but term it) of the father.

I have read of a witty Frenchman, who, with playful logic, proved himself (though plain in features, even to repulsiveness,) to be the most handsome object in the world; thus:-" Of all cities in the world, Paris is the finest; of all the quarters of Paris, the quarter in which I dwell is the finest; of all streets in this quarter, that in which my house stands is the finest; of all the houses in the street, mine is the finest; of all the rooms in the house, my own room is the finest; and I am the finest thing in the room.

In like manner, but with more seriousness, did Mr. Browne deduce, by a succession of arguments, that, a London tradesman-more especially a tradesman in his own former line of business-and more particularly still, a London tradesman connected with the firm of which he had so long been the principal, was, of all things in the world, the most enviable. To this high eminence he had secretly destined his only son; and, with due commercial brevity; when the proper time arrived, he communicated this determination to the object of it, nothing doubting of his ready acquiescence, of his more than acquiescence-his overflowing gratitude.

How, then, shall the astonishment of Mr. Browne be described, upon finding that, so far from being fascinated by the prospect laid before him, his son seemed horror-struck, afflicted beyond measure? that he did not hesitate to express deep distaste for London, for trading in general, and more especially for the trade to which he was, so to speak, unconsciously espoused. The sorrowful lad entreated his father to re-consider the matter; to allow him to make a more congenial, though a more humble, choice for himself; or at least give him time to reconcile his thoughts to the disappoint

No, not a day. On this point the otherwise indulgent father was inexorable, and deeply offended that his only son, the centre of his commercial hopes,

should thus turn restive at the very starting-point of his career. George seemed to know how vain an attempt it would be to debate the matter further, and how equally vain to have recourse to a mother's advocacy. He breathed his sorrows and fears into his gentle sister's ear alone, and submitted. The next week he was in street, London.

Communication by letter was not so frequent in those days as it is now; nevertheless, a letter soon arrived from poor George. Much to the satisfaction of his parents, he expressed himself resigned to his circumstances, and willing to submit to a longer trial of his new situation, provided that it might be lengthened to three months before he should be irrevocably bound to a continuance in it. To this his father unwillingly acceded.

Another letter came, but strangely differing in tone from the former. The three months had nearly expired, and the youth begged, in terms the most pathetic, to be allowed to relinquish his engagement. It was not, he said, that he desired to return home-far less that he wished to lead a life of idleness. It was not even that he felt the same objections to trade which had formerly possessed him; but he found so many temptations to dissipation and sin, to mis-spending of time, and profanation of the sabbath; so many around him ready and striving to drag him into the vortex of ruin, that he dreaded to remain within their influence. He wished most sincerely, he said, to be a Christian: he knew that no pleasure was to be found in transgression; but he felt himself going-hurried away from his better thoughts and aspirations; the fascinations of vice were fastening upon him; his reverence for holiness and holy things was melting away; his mind was becoming contaminated; his soul verging on towards ruin! He implored his father to save him; to remove him from the scene of these new and unanticipated trials; to restore him to his better self.

This was the substance of the unhappy boy's communication. Did it not move the Christian parent? it did; but, alas! it grated harshly on that one point upon which he was utterly incapable, by reason of his prejudices, of forming a correct judgment. "Does the boy think me such a fool," was his angry comment,

as to credit these complaints? Do not I know what London is? what business is? what his trials are? It is mere idleness and whim. He has persuaded himself, doubtless, that his temptations are great; and he would fain persuade me so too;-as though London, of all other places, and business, my own business of all other callings, were the very centre of all that is vile and contemptible! Would not he have the same evil nature elsewhere? Are not the same means of resistance available to him there as here? I lived fifty years and more in Londonpassed through every grade in my business-mixed with all sorts of people; and I was never contaminated. It is folly, and I will not yield to it."

And he did not yield to it. In severe terms he reprehended his son for conjuring up difficulties where none existed, hinted that he had exaggerated them to gain his own ends; and expressed his determination to abide by the decision already formed. It is true, the letter contained excellent advice as to the conduct which ought to be pursued, and warm appeals to the heart and conscience of his son, to rebut any real temptations which might be put in his way, and to seek that heavenly assistance which is promised to all who sincerely and diligently seek it. In short, the indentures were prepared and executed; "and there," said Mr. Browne, on his return from London, a few days afterwards, "and there is an end of it." An end of it! No, the end was yet to come.

From this time, however, no murmurings of dissatisfaction reached their ears; and when, after the lapse of a year, George was expected home for a week of relaxation, the hopes of the affectionate parents-for they were affectionate

that their son would prove all that their wishes had predicted, were highly raised and loudly expressed.

He came; but how changed! The seriousness and modesty which had once promised so fair, had disappeared; flippancy, carelessness, and even indecorum, had usurped their place. Instead of reverence for piety and its outward marks, boyish contempt and immature scepticism were but too apparent. Affectionate filial regard was turned into petulance and unwilling obedience; and brotherly love into cool, politely cool, indifference.

Then did the Christian parent first