of any special, heart-felt interest in the contents of that book. Your neglect of it may be occasioned by some secret sentiment which sinks its value in your eyes. Yet you may possess both candour and penetration. Permit a stranger, therefore, whom you may never see but in the world to come, now to entreat your attention to a brief discussion of the claims of that volume. And, 1. It is an original production. The antiquity of the Old Testament stretches upward to an age that yields no other authentick record of man's existence. Its language, and all its allusions and references to the ancient world, at test its origin to be as remote as the dates which it bears-and it comes to us with this singular attestation of its genuineness, as well as of its great antiquity, that the very nation in whose language it was first delivered, still exists, and still cultivates, in its original purity, that same language. Can this be proved of any other volume of great antiquity in existence? On this ground, then, it urges a powerful claim upon the curiosity even, of every intelligent and inquiring mind. 2. The scope of the Bible is vast and unparalleled. It commences with the dawn of time and the birth of nature-It closes with the expiration of both. It colours all its representations with the light of eternity. Here we are invited to study a chart which marks out the whole plan of divine arrangement for our world. Precepts are given to regulate human action; promises to invite obedience; terrors to prevent transgression; and examples to confirm all. We freely grant that these oracles are a dark and bewildering labyrinth, to the eye that throws but a hasty glance over their pages and so are the starry heavens, where, nevertheless, to the studious gaze of the astronomer, there shines a universe of wonders -holding their stations, and tracing their silent courses, with a harmony as marvellous as their immensity. In like manner, the word of God reveals its glories only to the ardent eye of faith. Nor do we exaggerate its richness or its depth, in affirming its supreme efficiency as an instructor. It rewards the studious and upright mind with valuable knowledge, more rapidly and richly than any other department of human research. 3. The Bible stands unrivalled as a work of taste. In a work comprising so many detached and distinct compositions, written in far distant ages, it were natural to expect variety. And perhaps the greater part of acute readers might look for some things, below the level of a refined criticism. But this volume abides the most rigorous scrutiny, and stands unshaken amid the fiercest attacks of hostile genius and learning. A taste enlightened to discern its legitimate objects, able to divest itself of prejudice, and refined without perversion to fastidiousness, will find in this book its highest gratification. If genuine poetry has power to attract and fix and captivate the soul, we surely have it here. The 14th chapter of the prophet Isaiah, the 18th, 68th, and 118th Psalms, the Prophecy of Nahum and the Lamentations of Jeremiah, may be given as examples. If the sublime in description yields the highest of intellectual pleasures-it is found in the same volume. On its first page we read, "God said, Let there be light and there was light." Near its close, we read-" Lo! a great white throne, and Him that sat thereon, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away." As other instances, from amidst a multitude that might be mentioned, the reader may be pointed to the 40th chapter of Isaiah, and the 1st of the Apocalypse. Of the moral sublime, we have examples here that utterly defy competition. Joseph, Daniel, and the lawgiver of Israel; the chief of the apostles, who, with every endowment desirable to man, gloried only in the cross; these and many others, are cases as nobly suited to awaken emulation, as their moral dignity is worthy to raise our astonishment. In this connexion, we but name "the Author and finisher of our faith." The discerning student of history observes numerous traits of excellence in that of the Bible. Moses and Luke, and the penman of the book of Joshua, perhaps afford the fairest models; and no other narratives communicate truth with such simplicity and power as the sacred.* Eloquence being the language of nature, addressed to the heart and adapted to the circumstances of mankind-history, without it, would lose half its charms. Passing then the flights of David and Isaiah, let the man of unvitiated feeling and real candour, compare the plea of Judah before Joseph his brother (Gen. xliv. 18-34), with the best wrought specimens of classick antiquity-and he will pronounce the dying complant of Dido and the lamentation of Panthea, cool and harsh in the comparison. Or draw the parallel between masters of eloquence, and the result is the same. While Cicero trembles before the armed enemies of Milo, and loses the cause of his client; while Demosthenes flies before the invader of Greece-Paul, arraigned and fettered as an outlaw at the feet of a heathen judge, shakes that judge upon his throne, and almost persuades the proud, licentious Agrippa, to become a Christian. More, much more, might be added on this topick; but it may be thought we owe an apology to the church of God, for bringing the oracles of hea ven at all to the bar of human taste. Our design is but to neutralize a portion of the venom which igno rance and infidel prejudice have cast into the sources of human conviction-Beyond this limit we dare not go. "The excellency of the Scriptures cannot be appreciated by the rules of human criticism: as well might we think of judging of the proportions of the celestial arch, or the location of the stars in the vast expanse, by the rules of architecture. The word of God, like his works, is on a plan too vast, too sublime, too profound, to be measured by the feeble intellect of man." 4. The sacred volume approaches the reader's conscience, with a dilemma of unspeakable interest on its very front. The book before him must be true or false: If true, it is what it claims to be, an inspired revelation from the God of the universe; and if so, its information and its dictates are of infinite importance to the whole world of mankind. It puts each individual upon his several trial for eternity, by a divinely prescribed mode of faith, and a consequent course of action. But if not true, it leaves man in a darkness more dismal than the grave. His origin and his final destination are alike involved in a cloud which man, without the Bible, has never been able to dissipate. For peace amidst the evils of his state he is driven to his own resources; for hope he has no rational foundation left; on moral questions no appeal can be reasonably made to the higher principles of human action-for no tribunal is found to distribute adequate rewards and punishments; no judge is known who has power to carry retributions beyond the life that now is! With this question unsettled, and with the strongest probabilities against him, can any man safely neglect to search the Holy Scriptures? Is it safe, is it agreeable to the common sense of mankind in earthly affairs, to treat a question of such fearful import with indifference? At the best, such a procedure is more unwise 2 X than the blind homage rendered by the heathen to the superstitions of their fathers. (To be continued.) SCEPTICISM CONVERTED INTO FAITH, BY THE NARRATIVE OF A MISSIONARY. Translated for the Christian Advocate from the Evangelical Church Journal. A clergyman now living, of the Catholick church; a theologian worthy of the name, because he is taught of God; a man whose faithful labours are known, and have been blessed and received with gratitude by many amongst Christians of all denominations, was brought to a firm and settled persuasion of the truth of the Christian faith and the divinity of the Holy Scriptures, by an account a missionary gave of his journey. In his younger years, he had departed from the simplicity of faith in the word and truth of God, either through the depravity of his own heart, or in consequence of doubts presented to his mind from other causes. In a word, he had embraced erroneous sentiments, and fallen into unbelief. "Can it be (so he thought) that what the evangelists relate concerning Jesus Christ be really true? Or if the accounts they give be true in the main, have they not in many respects adorned, embellished, and thus altered them?" These questions pursued him in the sanctuary, in the pulpit, and in the closet. As often as he attempted to bend his knees in secret prayer, doubts and unbelief intervened between God and his soul, till at length he could pray no more. He received no nourishment for his soul, in his attempts to approach to a throne of grace; and his poor fainting and drooping heart, was no longer warmed by the beams of the Sun of righteousness. If once he was filled with love to God and the brethren, he now felt himself cold and lifeless, and his heart was filled with anxiety about being forsaken of God, and given over to himself. The usual serenity of his countenance left him, and his aspect plainly indicated his inward state. He felt himself anxious, full of fear, poor and disconsolate, as respects futurity, and in regard to his ministerial calling. In the mean time, he wrestled day and night, without intermission, to obtain light and certainty. But who could remove his doubts? Unhappy soul! If the word and truth of God cannot effect this, how can it be effected by the word of man. The place where this young man resided, was, on a certain occasion, visited by an aged venerable missionary, who had preached the word of the cross for many years in India. Around this eminent missionary young and old flocked, to hear and see him. Our young man, full of doubts and grief, came among the rest to see the venerable father. His joyful and child-like countenance, his words so simple and credible, excited in the young sceptick love and confidence. On a certain occasion, the subject of this narrative addressed the old Galilean, when alone-" Reverend father, (said he,) how happy you are, to carry a love in your heart which enables you to do and to suffer on account of it-that you know, and have something in which you may confide with certainty as truth, as eternal, divine truth. With me, alas! it is otherwise. For a few years past I have been tormented with bitter doubts, whether what the apostles relate of Christ be true; or if in the main it be true, whether they have not made some additions of their own-whether they have not adorned and embellished their account. And since I have entertained these doubts, I cannot love or pray any more. What shall I do to be delivered from these bitter doubts? what shall I do that I may again obtain strength and confidence ?-that I may exercise faith, and be able to pray and to love?" The old gentleman exhorted the young man like a father, in a most kind and friendly manner, to persevere in prayer, and to wrestle with increased earnestness, although he might feel himself ever so miserable, and although he might be ever so much at a loss for words to express himself. God, he remark ed, sometimes suffers the heart of man to be tossed to and fro by doubts and unbelief, that it may earnestly seek, and finally find an anchor, eternal and unmoveable, which cannot be shaken by any waves. "do "But," says the old man, you believe that all I have said is the truth?" His young inquirer replied, "Your pious and serious countenance, and your luminous eye, do not indicate that you are capable of relating falsehood; I believe that all you have related is true." "But have not I," asked the old man, "invented many things as adventures, and added them to my own experience? Have I not really magnified, embellished, and adorned the accounts I have given you?" "Your words," said the young man, "are so simple and artless, and so entirely credible, that I do not believe you have added any thing of your own; I do not think you have made any additions or embellishments, but that you have related every thing faithfully, and just as it happened." "And now then, my son," said the reverend father, "you believe me, who am a poor, sinful, and erring man; you believe and confide in all I have related; but the disciples of our Lord, who saw him, who heard him, who handled him, who were filled and led by his own Spirit The old man also related how he had answered and refuted the doubts of some witty heathens, in regard to the truth of the gospel. But as is often the case with old people, who are fond of talking, he imperceptibly began to relate the remarkable experience and adventures of his journey, both on water and land, among Christians and heathens; and he did this in such a pleasant and interesting manner, and so very minutely, with a mix-a Spirit who put the words into ture both of joy and grief, that the young man seemed as if he was present, and witnessing all that he heard; and for a few moments he forgot-as indeed the old man himself had really forgotten-how and in what way he was led to this narration. All at once, however, as if necessarily called away, he broke off, dismissed the young man affectionately, and invited him to visit him again at a certain hour. The young man accordingly appeared at the appointed time. "Now," said the old father, very kindly, "I have related to you in our last interview, nothing but adventures and occurrences arising from my own journey." "Your relations," replied the young man, "have been to me a source of joy, and have truly refreshed and edi fied me." their mouths; men who were so unaffected, and so faithful, and so every way credible in what they saythese men you will not believe." There was such a power accompanying these words of the old man, that our youth felt himself relieved at once from all the doubts and anxious thoughts that troubled him. The tears now trickled down his. cheeks; and filled with pungent sorrow for his incredulity, he returned home, repaired to his closet, fell upon his knees, yea upon his face, and acknowledged himself before God as a poor, erring, disobedient sinner. In this manner he found forgiveness in Christ; and having obtained pardon, peace, joy, and ardent love, he became, as an author, as a publick teacher, and by his exemplary life, a blessing to many thousands. Miscellaneous. NOTES OF A TRAVELLER. (Continued from p. 305.) Manchester, England, May 28th, 1828. Last evening, when our post chaise drove up to the door of the Hotel, where we are now staying, it was amusing to see the bustle into which our little party threw the whole establishment. There was such a ringing of bells, and calling of servants, that I really began to think myself of more importance than usual. The Hotel stands at the corner of the two principal streets, facing in front an open space belonging to the Public Infirmary, ornamented with shrubbery and an artificial pond of water. A description of this Hotel, and its management, will give you a good idea of all similar houses of entertainment in England. All the apartments are clean, and furnished in a neat and tasty manner. There is always one room, which is common to every traveller. When you first arrive, the principal waiter of the establishment assists you in getting from the carriage, by holding up his arm for a support-a man they call Boots then takes charge of your luggage, and a well dressed chambermaid shows you to your room. These three servants, though you have many others to wait upon you, are the only ones who require of you a fee upon leaving the house and as this fee is not arbitrary, I always summed it up in my account, when paying the other charges to the head waiter; for as the landlord seldom makes his appearance, this important personage receives the payment of all bills, issues all orders, and seems to have the entire control of the house. This custom of the guest paying the wages of the servants, insures to the traveller the utmost civility and attention. No fixed hours are observed for meals-you may breakfast, dine, and sup at any time you choose, in the common room, or alone, if you prefer it. If you simply ask for breakfast, you will get nothing but tea, which you are obliged to make, and pour out for yourself, with a small slice of toast, a hot muffin or roll, and a little piece of butter, which is literally fresh, having scarcely any salt in its com position. Such frugal breakfasts were not congenial with my habits, and I commonly added a beefsteak, or two or three eggs, to the muffins and toast. To eat any thing in the morning, or to have a keen appetite, is here considered quite ungenteel; but at dinner you may gormandize as much as you please, and be the finished gentleman. Dinner of course is the principal meal, and you may select from a very ample bill of fare any articles you choose. A separate charge is made for every dish, and hence dinner may cost you three or four shillings, or almost as many gui neas. Tea in the evening is but little thought of here, but to me you know it is indispensable. Manchester, though quite a large place, the second in population in England, contains but little, except its cotton and woollen manufac tures, to interest the stranger; and as the annual races commenced this day, we could do nothing with them, as the artizans were all keeping holyday. I went therefore for the first time to a race course, and in two or three hours found myself heartily sick and tired of the business. The mob was very much the same as would probably have been collected, on a similar occasion, in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia-the multitude of beggars, the blind, the lame, the deformed, and the maimed, consti tuted the principal difference. The sports of the turf in this country |