This time the whole Pentateuch had to be removed. When the wife remonstrated, he said: "Why, the pastor says that the best scholarship declares that Moses did not write these books; that they were pamphlets gathered from various sources; some of them borrowed from the Assyrians or Egyptians, and some statements made in them show that they were written centuries after Moses died." They were cut out.

Again the scissors were called for. This time the last half of the Book of Isaiah was removed, because the pastor said that "while he would not say he fully believed they were written by Isaiah, the son of Amoz, yet the higher criticism of the schools had declared that some unknown author had added the last twenty-five or thirty chapters.

A few Sabbaths followed, and then the good deacon was surprised to hear that there were grave doubts among scholars concerning the Gospel of John, that precious gospel, so full of the teachings of the blessed Master, and from which he had gained so much comfort and instruction in the time of trouble.

Then the books of Ruth, Esther, Ecclesiastes, and the Songs of Solomon were cut out. The story of Jonah was made to appear so ridiculously strange that the deacon imbibed something of the spirit of the pastor and slashed through it in no easy manner. Almost every Sunday there was a reference made by the pastor to some interpolation, and the deacon "did n't want interlopers in the Bible."

They were all cut out, just as the scholarly pastor said.

Thus it went on to the end of the second year. One day the deacon said: "Come, Mary, let's go up and make our new pastor a call. We have n't been to see him very lately." "Are you going to take your Bible with you?" "O yes! I want him to see how the higher criticism of the best scholarship has improved it."

They called and were seated, and the pastor noticed the peculiar looking book in the hands of the deacon.

"What have you there, deacon?" "My Bible." "It is a queer looking Bible! What have you been doing to it?" "Well now, pastor, I'll tell you. Every time you doubted any passage of Scripture, or said it was an interpolation, I have cut it out. All the books of doubtful authenticity are gone. The stories borrowed from heathen nations, the myths, everything that you implied was questionable I have removed according to your teachings. But, thank God! my dear pastor, the covers of the good old Book are still left. All the rest is gone, and I want to thank you so much for leaving the covers."

HONOLULU SKETCHES.

Written at the Sandwich Islands, 1856.

I.

SKETCHES of marked cases of death-bed scenes are of great value, and should be preserved. They serve a double and effective purpose. They are useful to the minister in the way of anecdote, and when published in books and religious journals they often awaken the careless, lukewarm professor of religion and carry conviction to the wholly impenitent. This is my apology for presenting a sketch or two for the Advocate that came under my immediate notice during the past year.

Mr. Smith, an infidel of the Andrew Jackson Davis school, came within the bounds of my work in quest of health. He was in the last stage of pulmonary consumption. I providentially made his acquaintance. I found him a man of some intelligence, though not of extensive acquirements. He was of that independent, common-sense class of men who are usually enterprising and influential. Having inquired of him what part of the world he was from, and other things of a like nature, I remarked to him: "Mr. Smith, you seem to be in feeble health."

He replied, "Yes, I am a victim of consumption and can not live long."

"Your fears, I apprehend, are not without a good

foundation. Well, Mr. Smith, how do you feel in your mind in view of death and the future?"

"Those are matters I do not trouble myself much about. Like other men, I must die and stand my chance."

I endeavored to show him that he was a sinner, and that he would stand in need of a change of heart. This evidently did not set well on him. He bristled up and made signs of a theological combat. He soon let me know that he was an honest man, that he was upright in his dealings with his fellow-men, and endeavored to do to others as he would have them do to him. This he thought was all that God or men could reasonably require of him. I then introduced him to the third chapter of John's Gospel, and called his attention particularly to the necessity of the new birth. This he did not relish, and fell to abusing Christians. He thought them about all hypocrites, except his father and mother, whom he thought sincere, though deluded. I continued to urge upon his attention his need of Christ, that none other could do him any good or save him from his sins. He scouted the idea, and openly declared to me his infidelity. Christ he considered only a man, and a bastard at that! I became very much shocked at his rage and blasphemy! As soon as was convenient I ended the interview and bade him good afternoon.

I called again the next day, or the day after, but did not introduce the subject of religion. I inquired concerning his health, and whether he needed anything to render him comfortable in body. As he seemed rapidly declining, I made inquiry concerning his friends, and found that he had several children in the State of Michigan and some other relatives in the States. He stated to me that he had some property at home, and that he desired to make some arrangements about dividing it among his children. I asked him if I could render him any assistance. He replied I could by writing to his children and those having charge of them, for they were motherless. I promised him that I would call the next day and have him dictate what I should write.

I accordingly called, and sat down to write. I noticed when I alluded to his children that he had a strong affection for them. These children were put out with different families, so that I had to write a number of letters. As I had about finished the first letter and read it to him, I saw that his eyes were brim full and would soon overflow. Said I:

"Mr. Smith, seeing you will never meet your dear children on earth again, what shall I say to them for you concerning the future?" He was too full for utterance, and buried his face in his handkerchief for some time. When he had sufficiently recovered himself, he replied in a subdued tone, "I hardly know what to say."

"Shall I say to them for you, that you will endeavor to meet them in heaven?" With some little hesitancy, but with earnestness and deep feeling, he answered, "Yes, you may."

As I would draw near the conclusion of the business part of each of the letters severally, I asked him what I should say to his friends concerning the future. "Well, tell them I will strive to meet them in heaven." It was just in this simple but natural way God gave me access to this man's heart. Ever after that he was ready to hear me speak of the concerns of the soul. I visited him almost daily from that time till his death, which was between two and three months. He soon permitted me to read the Bible and pray with him, which I frequently did. He became deeply convinced that he was a sinner and needed Jesus of Nazareth, whom he had before derided. He frankly repounced his infidelity, but expressed his fears. that God would not have mercy on him for his guilty treatment of His dear Son. For several weeks he labored under serious doubts as to God's willingness to have mercy upon such a wretch as he. By reading the Bible, with what little encouragement I was able under God to give him, the light of hope gradually broke in upon him. Though his change was very gradual, yet it was perceptible to those who had conversed with him previous to his conviction. He came to have a great liking for the

Bible, and in fact would read no other book. He also took pleasure in prayer and religious conversation.

Another proof of a genuine and thorough change that had been wrought in his heart, was his forgiving spirit. He had a bitter hatred of some professing Christians, who, as he said, "treated him more like a brute than a fellow human being." He said he could forgive them and the greatest enemy he had on earth. He expressed deep regrets that he had indulged such wicked feelings. towards them and had said so many hard things of them.

His experience and light were those of the just, which shone more and more till the hour of his death. There are many particulars of interest in this case that our limits will not permit us to notice. A word about his last days and hours, and we shall have done. When his end drew near he wished to make as public a profession of his faith in Christ as the state of his health would permit. He desired that I should administer to him the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's Supper. I invited two ministers of other denominations to be present, and two or three Christian females. When I propounded the usual baptismal questions he answered them in a clear, melting tone that sent a thrill through every breast. He enjoyed these blessed means very much. A heavenly smile lighted his whole emaciated countenance, that was truly refreshing to look upon. This was a scene that can never be effaced from memory. It was "the chamber where the good man meets his fate, privileged beyond the common walks of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven." To the astonishment of all he lingered for about two weeks after his baptism. His end was peace.

Shortly before he died he wished to leave the minister, at whose house he lay sick, and myself some mementos of his regard for us. He presented me with a Bible he had received after coming to our place, and the other minister with Andrew Jackson Davis's works, or as he playfully termed them, his "Infidel Bible." He requested that these infidel publications should not fall into the