""Tis of no consequence," said the preacher, "what the world calls them or you. Will God pardon, think you, a neglect of himself, because you perform your duty to your fellow-creatures? What was the offence which brought sin into the world, and death by sin? Not an offence against society, for there was none; but against a positive command of God. Now, if Adam destroyed the whole world by disobeying a single command of God, certainly you may destroy yourselves by the same means—though you give all your goods to feed the poor, and your bodies to be burned for the good of society."

"And so we are to understand," said Mrs. Belcour, "that a blameless life is of no value in the sight of the Almighty ?"

"Consider the character of the devil, madam," said the preacher, turning suddenly towards her. "He is no member of society; and being a spirit, cannot commit any outward sin. Thus his is the wickedness of the mind, and such is yours. It consists in opposing the wisdom of God: substituting your own schemes and systems for the attainment of enjoyment and peace, in the place and in direct opposition to those he has recommended and set before you; endeavouring to hew out for yourselves those cisterns which he has declared shall hold no water; preferring things temporal to things eternal; thereby mistrusting his most sacred promises. In a word, walking by sight, and not by faith."

"Come, come," said the Colonel, "you make us out much worse than we are, my honest old friend. You have been battling with your outrageous sinners so long, that you think every body you meet a heathen. No, no; we don't want faith at any rate."

"Not want faith," said the preacher, vehemently; by what standard do you judge of the value of things, by the visible or invisible world? My dear sir, bring the matter to an issue in one single instance, and we shall soon see how far you rely on his promises. Would you rather have your only son a pious cobbler, or a profane, a God-forgetting gentleman ?"

The Colonel started; the question had evidently touched him. The preacher regarded him a moment with intense interest in his countenance; then turning to Mrs. Belcour, "And you, madam Belcour, would you have your daughters children of God, and walking on foot; or children of the devil, and riding in their coaches ?"

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Vulgar," said Mrs. Belcour, in an under tone.

But the preacher was not disposed to hear, at least notice the remark. Pulling out a large silver watch, he observed, ""Tis time to set forward. You must not, dear young ladies, or you, madam Belcour, be angry with the old Methodist man for speaking his mind. If you knew how often my heart has yearned toward the dwellers at Rosemount, you would not be surprised that my tongue has been thus forward to utter the truth in all sincerity and boldness. Colonel Berkley has promised me to take you all to meeting this evening. You will hear me say some things, madam Belcour, which you will ill like to hear, for I am one of those underling servants sent out into the highways and hedges, to compel the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind, to come in. Well, blessed be God! the poor have the Gospel preached unto them, and I hope," said he, as he was leaving the room, “I hope the perishing rich have it preached unto them also. I will be back, Colonel, in a few minutes. These grand

ladies must not be ashamed to walk to meeting with the old Methodist. Their father has run away often from the great house, to play with him; you must tell them about it, Colonel, and they will put up with me." The rough features of the preacher seemed struggling to suppress the indication of more tender feelings than those in which he was wont to indulge; and after gazing at the girls for a moment in silence, he left the

room.

Before setting out on this most unexpected walk to the meeting-house, the reader must suffer me to advert to a circumstance which occurred as the preacher and his travelling companion journeyed on their way to Mr. Scoreum's. About one hour before they arrived, they had perceived, at a fork of the road, a young man sitting on his horse, with an air of indecision in his countenance, as doubtful which road to take. On their approach, he asked the direction to Berkley Park.

"Colonel Berkley," said the elder preacher, "will be at Scoreum's to-day, if you want to see him.” "I do wish to see him," said the stranger, earnestly; "but not at Scoreum's."

"And why not at Scoreum's," said the preacher. "There'll be junketing there to-day; at least, so my information goes, and if you have business with him, you had best go back; besides, you'll be caught in the gust. I am also bound to see the Colonel, and for this cause am I come many a mile."

"Are you not a Methodist preacher?" said the stranger.

"And what then?" said the preacher. "Has Colonel Berkley any objection to Methodist preachers, of all men. I have a message for him, and it must be

delivered."

"And you have hopes he will receive it at your hands," asked the stranger, anxiously.

"I have such hope, or wherefore am I come ?"

The stranger, who was no other than the young person we have mentioned as sitting on the piazza, at Scoreum's, on the arrival of Colonel Berkley, after musing a short space, observed, "I will return with you. I am not, as I hope, apt to be directed by sudden impressions; but there is something in your words and manner which greatly interests me; I will return. with you."

As during this ride, short as it was, communications passed between these persons, which were greatly influential in producing many of the circumstances I have to record, I thought it good to commemorate the meeting, though it does not so well suit my purpose to say, what was the nature of the communications then made.

I now proceed to describe the order in which the company at the inn took up their line of march to the meeting-house. The landlord's family had already departed, under the conduct of the companion of our old preacher and the stranger; and now issuing forth from the tavern, came Mr. Scoreum himself, honoured in his especial attendance on Mrs. Belcour. The portly figure of the Colonel was garnished on either side by a Miss Belcour; and a herald would have likened the trio unto a coat of arms: the escutcheon, a giant in purpure, supported by two Hebes in argent. With a slow, though firm, heavy step, the preacher marched last in the procession, his arms slung carelessly behind him, and his hands joined by the interlocking of his fingers.

On arriving at the house, which was but a short distance from the tavern, they found it crowded to overflowing. The men arranged on one side, the women on the other. In a corner, next to the pulpit, the members of the class were collected; distinguished from the rest of the congregation by the plainness of their dress, and that particular physiognomy and cast of countenance which, in that day, marked the Methodists as a peculiar people.

As the tide of persons peeping in to hear the celebrated brother Fell, continued to overflow the house, the elders, in the corner, squeezed themselves closer together, or took their seats on the steps leading to the pulpit, whilst at each remove was heard a groan, intimating their reluctance to be disturbed in the meditations in which they were engaged, but, at the same time, graciously beckoning some individual, who was particularly at a loss how to bestow himself, to take the seat they had vacated.

The Colonel, who either disregarded or was ignorant on the subject, that the separation of the sexes was one of the customs of the place, (for until this moment he knew not, by actual observation, what the inside of a Methodist meeting was made of,) took his seat on a bench with the ladies, which, on a nod of intimation from the preacher, that such was his pleasure, was given up for their accommodation.

After singing and a short prayer, from the person mentioned as the travelling companion of Perkins, the latter rose and came to the front of the pulpit, looked around on the congregation, as though he would satisfy himself what description of persons he was to address. As his eyes withdrew from this scrutiny, he adjusted his spectacles-turned over the leaves of the Bible