prove old times to be better than new | times. One would think by what you say that the older times are, the better they are. Perhaps you would like to go back again to the days of Adam at once ? Robert. No! no! Not quite so far back as that neither. Henry. Well, then, what say you to the times of the ancient Britons? The Druids might then burn you alive in a wicker cage for despising their barbarous rites and their sacred misletoe. Or the days of popery might suit you; what think you of Lollard's tower? Should you like to be crammed into the dungeon of little ease, where you could neither stand up nor lie down, and all for reading over a chapter in the New Testament? To be sure you might burn your Testament, and instead of reading it, go on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Thomas à Becket at the cathedral of Canterbury. Robert. I neither want to be burned, nor to go on a pilgrimage; but almost all old people say that the times are not what they used to be. Henry. People once wore clogs instead of shoes, and wooden skewers for pins. Our great great grandfathers wore cocked hats and pigtails, with their waistcoat flaps half down their thighs, and our great great grandmothers, on company occasions, wore hoops that took up as much room as from here to yonder, with head dresses half a yard high, plastered with pomatum and powder. You do not want these things to come into fashion, do you? Robert. No, I do not, but say what you will, there is a great difference between new times and old times. Henry. There is a great difference, certainly, as you say: for instance, there are not so many prize fights, bull baitings, badger baitings, and cock fights now; nor half so many highwaymen on Hounslow and Bagshot heaths as there used to be. Stocks by the wayside, and whipping posts and pillories in market places, are much scarcer than they were. It would be a hard matter now, to find a gibbet, though years ago the country was studded with them. In these things, I grant you that old times beat new times all to pieces. Robert. Yes, but changes have taken place in learning, and manners, and many things. Henry. True! Changes have taken place both in learning and manners; but I do not know that old times, in this respect, have any great advantage. If we have not so many Jacks, Dicks, Bobs, and Harrys, Bets, Salls, Nances, and Polls,- -we have Johns, Richards, Roberts, and Henrys, Betsies, Sarahs, Annes, and Marys to make up for them. In old times, a man who could read and write was looked upon almost as a conjurer, and I have heard say that before now, "Mighty monarchs wanted skill to prove The letters that composed their mighty name." Those days are over, and hundreds of mere boys now can read and write like schoolmasters. Robert. Learned men in old times were very learned indeed! Look at some of their books! Why, they would make a score of those that are now written. You know very well that learned men in old times wrote great big folios. Henry. They did write great big folios, but who now would read them if they were written? Books, indeed! you must not say a word about books. Formerly, they were hardly to be had for love or money; but now they are plentiful as blackberries. Young people used to have put into their hands the histories of Goody Two Shoes, Mother Hubbard, and Cinderella, and the famous adventures of Jack the Giant Killer, Bluebeard, and Greensleeves. What were such books as these to do for them either by making them wiser or better? Time has been when a Testament would have cost twenty pounds; but you may buy a capital good one now for a shilling or eighteen pence. of books! Why only last year the Bible Society sent out more than seven hundred thousand Bibles and Testaments, and the Religious Tract Society upwards of nineteen millions of publications. These two societies alone, since they were established, have spread about in the world more than twelve millions of Bibles and Testaments, and three hundred millions of useful and pious publications ! Talk Robert. You are right there as to number. We have more books certainly than we used to have; but for all that, there is enough superstition and ignorance among us yet. Henry. There is superstition enough, and too much, among us, but not so much as there used to be formerly. We cannot see the man in the moon quite so plainly as people formerly did. | We do not believe that witches ride through the air on broomsticks. People seldom, now, nail horse shoes over their doors to defend themselves from evil spirits, nor do they throw harmless old women into the river with their hands tied, to find out whether they have bewitched their neighbours. These, and a hundred other silly things, were believed or done in old times; but new times have very little to do with them. Robert. But do you think mankind are any better in new times than they were in old times? Henry. I hardly know what to think of that, Robert; but new times have many things in their favour. Old times carried on the slave trade with all its injustice, oppression, and cruelty; but in new times, England gladly paid twenty millions of money to liberate the slaves in its colonies. Then, besides the slave trade, cruel wars were engaged in, where human blood was shed as freely as water; but now we have had a twentyfive years' peace, a thing to which old times were almost strangers. Robert. Ah! Peace is a good thing, and we have got it; and the slave trade was a bad thing, and we all ought to rejoice that it is done away with. Henry. Time was when we had neither microscopes, nor telescopes, nor printing presses, nor watches. The mariner's compass was once unknown, and ships could not sail the wide ocean as they do now. In old times, those who had no pump were badly off for water; but now water is abundant in our cities and towns. Formerly, our streets were lighted with dim and dingy oil lamps; but now the clear flame of the gas light is seen, at night, in all directions. Old watchmen, too stiff in the joints to run after a rogue, and too feeble to hold him if they caught him, are, of late years, exchanged for young, active, and strong policemen. You will admit that these are improvements? Robert. You seem determined to make the best of new times, however. Nothing seems to escape you. I wonder you have not said something about ballooning, there has been so much of it going on for the last few years. Henry. I will not say any thing in favour of ballooning, because, though I can see the danger of it, I cannot see the advantage; but safety coaches, safety lamps, steam carriages, steam boats, life rafts, life boats, and fire escapes, are excellent things. They are among the improvements of the new times; old times knew nothing about them. Robert. What else have you got to say? I should like to know all that could be said in favour of new times now your hand is in. You get on móst famously. Henry. Well then, Robert, you shall have a little more in favour of new times. If a servant girl wrote a letter in old times to her poor mother, or an apprentice boy to his sick father, living a long way off, (and such a letter you know is often more welcome than money or medicine,) why, the postage used to be a shilling or thirteen pence, and if a bit of paper, only an inch long, was slipped into it, that made it double; but now children and parents, and brothers and sisters, may write one another letters, if they have got the time, almost a yard long, and the postage will be but a penny, and they may put a little book or tract into a letter into the bargain. Robert. Ay! all of us are in favour of the penny postage. Henry. In old times, if an aged father had a son settled at a distance, and his heart yearned to see him once more before he died, he made his will, and took leave of his family before he set off on his journey. It was almost as great an affair as when old father Jacob went down into Egypt, with the wagons that Pharoah had sent for him. A journey of a hundred miles took up the better part of five days then, whereas now, you may go it by railroad in five hours. Robert. If you had been a counsellor, I hardly think you could have pleaded your cause better; but I do not like these railroads. In my opinion, we are running on too fast. There will hardly be any time, after a while, I suppose, to eat our meals. We must have breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper altogether. Henry. In old times there were no Sunday schools, now there are thousands! Once there were no Sunday scholars, now there are millions! Places of worship were scarce, but now they are multiplied. Almshouses, asylums, hospitals, and benevolent institutions have increased. The deaf and dumb, the halt and the blind have asylums. There are Sailors' Homes, Orphan Institutions, and refuges for the distressed, that were never known in old times. Say what you will about old times, I am sure we have a great deal in these new times to make us thankful. Robert. In that I agree with you, Henry. Henry. In old times, men of whom the world was not worthy, were compelled, by the bitterness of persecution, to dress themselves in sheep skins, and goat skins, wandering in deserts, and in dens and caves of the earth. Smithfield used in old times to be often of a lightshine with the blaze of fagots piled around good men, for believing what we believe, and for reading that Bible, which now we can read in peace and comfort every day of our lives. Robert. I should think that you had almost got to the bottom of your budget, now, Henry. Henry. Perhaps you think that I have said too much already. Whatever may be the advantages or disadvantages of the times, it will be well for us to keep in mind that the human heart has been evil at all times. The first man that was created sinned against God, and the second shed the blood of his brother. Wickedness increased among mankind, till God drowned the earth; and when our Saviour came into the world he was betrayed by one of his own disciples, and crucified by the Jews, the peculiar people of God. These things should make us watch and pray, lest we also enter into temptation. Then, again, God has been good at all times. When he turned our first parents out of paradise, he did not destroy them. When Cain was cursed for the murder of his brother, God set a mark upon him, that no man should kill him. When God drowned the world for its iniquity, he left a rainbow token in the sky, that it should be drowned no more. When the Lord of Life and Glory was crucified, he prayed for his murderers, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do!" And even to this hour eternal life is offered to us all, sinners as we are, through faith in the Son of God. The important question with us should be, then, not, What are the "times ?" but rather, What shall we be, when time shall be no more? Robert. It would please me much to hear what you could say on my side the question; for you have said a great deal on your own. Is there nothing wrong in new times, think you? Henry. A great deal, Robert, though I have not time to mention it. There had not used to be so much infidelity and socialism as there is now; more is the pity that such a change for the worse has taken place. And then, again, it is certain that children do not honour their parents as they did in old times. This is a black mark on the forehead of new times. Oh that young people were more humble than they are, and more thankful for their many advantages. Oh that they feared God, and reverenced old age more, having the commandment in their hearts as well as in their lips, "Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land that the Lord thy God giveth thee!" Robert. You seem coming over to my side of the question at last. Henry. A great deal might be said for old times; but I am rather disposed, just now, to think favourably of new times, on account of the improvements that have taken place; and it might be a profitable inquiry, if we were to ask ourselves this question, While so many improvements have taken place around us, what improvements have taken place within us? in our character and conduct, our thoughts, our words, and our deeds? The best thing you and I can do, let the times be what they will, is to be thankful for them; our wisest course will be to gain experience from the past, to improve the present, and to seek God's grace to prepare us for the future. Old times, and new times, yea, all times are in God's hands, and he can make smooth what is rough, and make straight what is crooked. His power can make our joys abound, THE LAST DAY. (Reflections for the 31st of December.) THE Holy Scriptures declare, that "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the sun," Eccl. iii. 1. With the many, the closing hours of the year are made "a time to laugh, and a time to dance;" but those who seriously regard the rapid flight of their years, will rather make it a season of reflection, of self-examination, and of prayer. How many thoughts are awakened in the mind on the last day of the year! Another year has flown, and in its flight has borne me onwards towards eternity and my final home. What is the report it has carried to heaven ? It has been a year of mercies. How regular and abundant have been the supplies which a kind Providence has bestowed! Shall I recount them in order? But where shall I begin? "When all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, In wonder, love, and praise." Morning and evening, noon and midnight, have borne witness to the goodness and faithfulness of God. Oh, what shall I render to him for all his benefits? Has it been a year marked by bereaving providences? If it has not been so to me, it has been to thousands. Many a widow now sits in solitude, weeping over the loss of him who was her earthly comfort and protector. Many a child turns to the fireside corner, where a father or a mother was wont to sit, and close the day in cheerful converse; and many a parent now looks in vain for a child that he had hoped would have been his comfort in declining age. Death has divided many hearts, and marred many bright prospects this year. The mourners have gone about the streets, and thousands have been carried to the grave. "Heaven gives us friends, to bless the present scene; Resumes them, to prepare us for the next." Yet I have been spared, and why, Lord? Is it because I am stronger, or more healthy, or more useful, or more deserving, than others who have gone? Ah, no! It is of thy mercies that I am not consumed, and because thy compassions fail not, Lam. iii. 22. Has it been a year of trials? Who have been without them? Trials in trade, in the family, in the church, in body, in mind. Perhaps one has followed another in quick succession. Could I, at the commencement of the year, have foreseen the losses and disappointments which I had to meet, it would have pressed me down in sorrow. Yet strength has been according to the day; and through the good hand of God, I continue to the present hour. It has been a year of privileges. Fifty-two sabbaths have blessed the year; what have I done with them? Many solemn addresses from the pulpit Are have I listened to; what have been their influence on my character ? Here is my Bible; have I read, marked, learned, and inwardly digested its sacred truths? Do I understand it better than I did on the first of January last? How have I spent my seasons of prayer? Have I done as much good as I have had opportunity of doing? If I have done little or nothing in the cause of Christ, is it because I have lacked opportunity? If I have been active, what have been my motives, my rule, my end? Am I as spiritually minded as I should be ? Have I kept a tender conscience within, and maintained a consistency of character without? I am hastening on to eternity; am I better prepared to enter on this awful, final state, than I was on the last day of last year? What are my hopes, my prospects? they scriptural? Will they bear the test of a dying hour? Or are they like the hopes of the hypocrite which go out at death? Do I love Christ more? Am I resting on him with a more simple faith, deriving from him all my spiritual health and life? Am I looking forward and longing for his appearing? Oh, these are questions which should be fairly, fully met. When can I better think over them than on this last day of the passing year? The season calls for reflection. Another stage of my journey is past; let me, then, enter into my secret chamber, and shut my door about me; and while humbled in the dust, under the painful conviction of guilt and unworthiness, seek afresh to that blood which cleanseth from all sin, and again renew the surrender of my soul to Him who is able to keep that which I commit to him. Surely, if there be one day more than another that I feel my need of the blood of Christ, it is that which closes the departing year. But, perhaps, I began the year with a heart at enmity with God; am I now converted? I commenced it as an unregenerate sinner; am I now an humble penitent, seeking mercy through a Divine Saviour? If conscience tells me I am yet unchanged, still afar off from God and righteousness, what have I done? I have shut my eyes to the light, closed my ears to the voice of mercy, resisted the Spirit of God, denied the Saviour's claims, increased my guilt, and "heaped up wrath against the day of wrath." I am nearer eter nity than I ever was, and less prepared to enter on it. I have made progress to judgment, but have increased my account. When the year commenced, mercy cried, "Lord, let him alone this year also:-if he bear fruit, well and if not, then after that thou shalt cut him down." The year is gone, and I am found the same fruitless tree, yea, with less prospect of ever bearing fruit. Promises were made, and good intentions formed; but I have lived only to give another proof, that "the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." But the last day of the year reminds me of two solemn periods-the last day of my life, and the last day of the world. The last day of my life will surely come. How fast is it hastening on! Who can tell me how near I am to the grave? I look back on the years already gone; they appear but a handbreadth: how few to me remain! it may be, not one. There may literally now be but a step between me and death. Could some celestial messenger speak to me on the morrow, he might say, "This year thou shalt die." On my coffin lid may be inscribed, Who departed this life, 1841, aged Oh, how many solemn thoughts are associated with the last day of my earthly probation! So un Think of the last day of the sinner. What anguish rends his heart! expectedly called to die! He had hoped that many years were yet in reserve; but now he is told he must die. He looks back in anguish of spirit; he looks forward, and all is dark and hopeless. "Farewell all my gains and projects, my merriments and thoughtless companions, my abused sabbaths and seasons of grace, my murdered hours,' my promises of amendment! Before me is nothing but misery, and the black ness of darkness for ever!" How different the last day of the believer! Hear the dying saint exclaim, "Welcome death, welcome glory! The time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness,' 2 Tim. iv. 6, 7. "Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God,' Job xix. 26. When the hour comes that shall end my pilgrimage below, will it be my happiness to take my farewell, for ever, of sin and sorrow, pain and death, and at once rise to light and holiness, and bliss, and join the ransomed throng in singing the "new song" before the throne of God, ascribing all the praise of salvation to the Lamb that was slain? What answer does my heart give to this inquiry? "Search me, O God, and try me; and see if there be any wicked way in me," save me from deceiving my own most precious soul. The last day of the year seems prophetic of the last day of the world. Every day, as it is added to the thousands that are past, is bringing on that day, of which "Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied, saying, Behold, the Lord cometh with ten thousands of his saints, to execute judgment upon all," Jude 14, 15, when "the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up," 2 Pet. iii. 10; and though scoffers, who walk after their own lusts, ask, "Where is the promise of his coming?" yet it will come 66 as a thief in the night." Oh, that day! who shall abide its coming? I shall be a party to its solemn transactions, though thousands of years should intervene, and this body pass into the finest dust, until not a vestige is left to denote that it once formed a part of a human being; yet I shall be there, not as a spectator, but as one deeply interested in the sentences that shall then be passed. Then the year that is now departing, will be brought into review, with all its mercies and privileges, its misimproved hours and accumulated guilt. Oh, where shall I stand? on the right hand, or on the left hand of the Judge? Is He that shall be the Judge, now my Saviour and Friend? Thus, from this point of time, I look forward to the last day of my life, and the end of the world; and with the solemn realities connected with those days crowding on my mind, I seriously resolve, God's grace assisting me, to set out anew, or at once for heaven. J. H. C. THE PRAISE OF THE ENVIOUS. THE praise of the envious is far less creditable than their censures; they praise only that which they surpass; but that which surpasses them, they censure.— Austin. W. Tyler, Printer, 5, Bolt Court, London. |