tempt of the principles inculcated by his sister during the ductile periods of childhood and early youth, and I occasionally thought, that I discovered in him a wish to supply the place of an instructor now no more, but that he anticipated on my part a rude and ungrateful repulse. However, his conversation and habits I admired, in spite of his inflexible attachment to the religion of my parents, and his not unfrequent hints of the delusive character of that world which I now found to be so fascinating. Some time elapsed before these hints were expanded into regular discussion. I shall not detail the trivial circumstance which one rainy morning extorted from me the abrupt enquiry, And pray, Sir, what is this world that you speak of? You know that I am very fond of definition.' My uncle was evidently startled at the question; which, as he rightly guessed, resulted more from an irreligious petulance, than from any desire to arrive at truth. He paused for some minutes, and betrayed an embarrassment which richly gratified his companion, for now, thought I, I shall easily prove that Mr. M— is a man of sense in any thing but his religion. At length he interrupted the silence by observing, but with unwonted deliberation, Although the world as a moral term be not absolutely undefinable, it is yet difficult, and perhaps impracticable, to compress its import into the ordinary space of interpretation. Any limited definition of an expression designed to convey an idea so vast and complicated must necessarily be indistinct and unsatisfactory.' Your reply, Sir, leaves me just where I was. You tell me, as I anticipated, the extreme difficulty of definition. I take the liberty of repeating the enquiry. What is this world that you speak of Mr. M-, instead of hearing this repetition, proceeded with his speech by continuing thus, Besides; were its explanation condensable, the meaning of a phrase used with such various ambiguity, and connected with the passions and interests of mankind, is determined by the character and immediate view of the person employing it.' Another pause ensued. It would be absurd to suppose, for instance, that a Carthusian and a man of pleasure would annex the same interpretation to a term which intends what the one has eternally forsaken, or professed to forsake; and the other esteems as the abettor and guardian of his profligacy.' I began to be impatient, and once more moved the original question, for I determined to nail down my antagonist to the point. By the world then,' said he, I mean-but stop, let us consult Dr. Johnson.' 6 I I skipped across the library to reach down the second volume of the Dictionary; and with the eager dexterity of mischief soon found the term under discussion. Mr. M. ran his finger down the page, must apprize you,' he observed, that I understand the expression in its moral sense.' Agreed, Sir: you intimated this before.'-My companion proceeded: The dictionary affords only such general information of the subject in hand as confirms what I advanced respecting the indistinctness of definition in cases like the present: for though the author very correctly interprets the world to mean sometimes the manners of men, sometimes a secular life, and so on; yet, without any disparagement, Arthur, to your abilities, I am certain that from such interpretations as these, you can collect no shapely idea of the world. You might as well expect to be able to calculate eclipses by knowing that astronomy is a science teaching the knowledge of the heavenly bodies.' I was too ingenuous to deny the truth of my uncle's assertion, and confessed that the greatest master of the English language found, and left me, in ignorance. you familiar with the philosophy of revelation,'--my conscience awoke as he uttered that word Revelation, Were -you need not search for the genuine import of an expression frequently used by the sacred writers,, in the pages of a critic. But however,' continued my friend with an encouraging frankness, if you really wish to pursue the enquiry, my assistance is much at your service.' I thanked him; and as a glance at the window forbade a ride, I found there was no honourable way of escape. Suppose, Sir, you first tell me what the world is not.' -The world then does not intend the planet we inhabit, with its contents and produce; because, as I need not inform you, passive matter has no moral capacity. Inanimate nature is, in itself, neither good nor evil.' It is sometimes the cause of good or evil.' I wished, you observe, to harass the enemy's march. No; it is sometimes the instrument. Man may render it the organ either of benevolence or mischief; as for example, he may employ the same metal to relieve the indigent and to fee the assassin.-Neither does the world signify all mankind, because among them are those (here I must avail myself of scriptural phraseology,) who are pilgrims and strangers upon earth.' All this,' I replied, I must allow; not however without observing, that where the subject touches upon divinity, I am quite at sea.' At these words Mr. M. paused; and I could read in his manner the opinion he entertained of the person he was addressing. My dear Arthur; I believe then that here our discussion must terminate; for the subject is so essentially connected with divinity, that if you interdict its interference I shall scarcely know how to proceed; for after all, the only standard on this point is the Bible. But still, if I adduce the authority of the Scriptures to confirm the opinion I hold of the world, the views they may afford to substantiate that estimate are couched in language as vague and unsatisfactory to one of us, as that already employed. I do not recollect, that the Scriptures anywhere furnish a formal definition of the world: they rather un fold its principles, lay bare its character, and describe its actual and permanent state. When St. John, for example, speaks of the world in contradistinction to the genuine converts to Christianity, he says that it LIETH IN WICKEDNESS,' True, Sir; I have heard the passage; but the question is, whether mankind at this period are obnoxious to the character here implied. St. John wrote in the first century, since which æra many civilized nations have embraced the Christian faith; and our own quarter of the globe is thence denominated Christendom.'-' Denominated: certainly; but I insist that the world is essentially the same it ever was since the loss of Paradise. And if, as some geologists imagine, the surface of the earth was considerably altered by the deluge, or has since been partially affected by the operation of volcanic fires and other phenomena, its inhabitants are the posterity of an apostate ancestor. The second Adam did indeed appear, and founded the Church now bearing his name, and dispersed over a large portion of the world. But what then? your insinuation would go to prove, that because the European continent is by courtesy called Christendom, that therefore it is Christian: and the next consequence is, that France the land of rapine and blood, the scourge and terror of its neighbours, does yet march to pillage and massacre under the banner of the cross. All this is a contradiction so self-evident, that I am convinced your opinion of the spiritual state of Christendom must be henceforth qualified.' There could be no reply to this; so I was compelled to bound back to my former ground with, but still, Sir, I want a definition of the world. If,' said my uncle, you will urge me to make another fruitless effort, I interpret the world to mean, those of mankind whose system of conduct is the growth of selfish principles, aud conflicts with death, themselves unhostile to their eternal interests. supported by any solid expectaAnd now, Arthur, what are you the tion of future repose; your judg wiser?' He added- and a misera- ment might at least be somewhat ble world it is!' convinced, that the hope of a worldling must terminate in eternal despair. Unless we regard the present life as a state of preparatory existence to a state now invisible, or dimly discovered because of the weakness of our eyesight, we are building upon a quicksand.' it 'Miserable! I exclaimed, has never been so to me.'- Yes; it has a natural tendency to produce present and final wretchedness; and your inability to discover this tendency, is a proof of its address in hiding its genuine character. I may say to you, with a little alteration, what the perfidious Gloucester said to the young Prince *: "The inexperience of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit; No more can you distinguish of a man, Than of his outward shew, which, heaven knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart." Believe me, Arthur, the world is an assassin, who in carnival time steals behind his victim in the dark, and with a fatal dexterity buries a stiletto in your bosom before you suspect his approach. If you have not found the world miserable, this is, because you have seen only its gaieties, heard only its flatteries, and been busied only with its graver pleasures. A young man entering into life is dazzled with external glitter and glare; not knowing that it is the world's interest and aim to decoy him into its servitude; to effect which it will never mingle alarm with allurement. It slakes his thirst with wine of a delicious flavour and offered in a golden goblet: but there is an infusion of poison, and neither the costly vase nor the taste of its contents can convert the mixture intoa salutary beverage. Could I unveil the mournful realities which the world conceals from its inexperienced votaries; expose the disappointment and remorse which they feel whom it has duped and deserted; lead you to their couches when their eyes are closing upon vanities they once idolized; could you witness their agonizing * Richard III. Act 3. My friend's discourse made me thoughtful; but my anxiety to disprove what I wished to disprove because of its disheartening tendency, impelled me to reply, Things may be as you state them; but is my hope the hope of a worldling? Arthur; I did not mean to be personal, but if a conviction of your interest in the subject induces this enquiry, I have only to ask, what is the specific object of your life, the source of your gratifications and disquietudes? Some object you must have, though probably what that object is, you have never distinctly enquired.' I was much more embarrassed by this pointed enquiry than Mr. M- was, when I bolted upon him for a definition of the world. But he did not imitate his nephew by triumphing in my confusion. He paused for an answer, and then continued, "There can be but two objects of human pursuit, this world or the next. Which is yours?'- Why, my dear Sir, your enquiry involves an accusation: it implies, (for I perfectly know your opinion of my religion,) that my general conduct results from no sound principle. Now what is the evil attached to a person entering upon a reputable profession?'-'You are not answering my question; I asked, what is the specific object of your life?' A silence again ensued ; but I determined, if possible, not to beg for quarter. I rallied my disordered forces; I declared that it was my intention to be regular in my profession, and temperate in my recreations with a view to happiness, But my companion wanted to know what description of happiness I meant. Why, Sir,' I replied, there is no entering into detail: happiness is a comprehensive expression; comprizing every source of satisfaction; all that a man can wish.' Happiness,' said my friend, is a term so very equivocal, that I must not venture to define it; its signification, like that of another term, depends upon the character and views of its employer. If it mean approach to a desired object with consciousness of progress, we are as much in the dark as ever; for then the question is, what is that desired point?-But what is to be the source of your happiness?' The just expectation of prosperity. And what its consummation? Prosperity itself. That is, secular success.' With some hesitation, but with pure truth, I pronounced, Yes." Then,' added my companion, the object of your life is the world: for that you are to labour;-your hopes are to arise from the prospect of its favours; your anxieties from the dread of its frowns.' I scarcely understood my friend's drift. The conversation was utterly lost upon me. It was a new thing to be set about enquiring what was the final object of my course of conduct. I had read the classics, amused myself with the sciences, had never stood idle for want of employment. I had divided my time between sober business, and rational pleasures; but stretched not my thoughts forward into future days, never anticipated the close of life, nor looked into eternity. I certainly had no precise object in view. An indistinct desire of reputation and opulence had occasionally darted into my mind; but its continuance was interrupted by the books or company of the hour. I trod the beaten tracks of the world without enquiring whither they led, and where they terminated. I lived as many others, an infidel in prac tice; in theory, one who allowed (if indeed the subject were ever canvassed,) that the evidences of Chris tianity were too forcible to be formally resisted. I was no libertine, no idler. My propensities were of another cast. During my residence at college I associated neither with profligates nor loungers; and was never surprised into a riot. Yet all this while I lived without God IN THE WORLD. No spiritual idea. traced on my heart the rudest outline of principle. My religion was a quiescent opinion; not a principle incorporated in the soul, and operative in thought and action. Embarked on the ocean of life, I was borne down by the confluent tides of selfishness and secularity; and, driven on rocks and quicksands, had made shipwreck and perished, had not He interposed whom the winds and the sea obey! Do not, Sir, accuse me of violating the sanctuary of the grave, by declaring in this place my conviction, that the mode employed by my parents, when my mind first began to unfold itself, to arm me for combating an enemy familiar with conquest, was in its own nature strangely ineffective. Should this conviction tend, in your estimation, to stain the memory of persons still canonized by filial affection and reverence, no opinion can destroy the justice of that conviction, however it may determine the propriety of its present enunciation. You will understand me when I ask, could I reap instruction from remote allusion, from obscure illustration? At that immature age the subject of such reference made no definite impression.-But I deviate from my plan. It is the design of this correspondence to give you some idea of the method used by Mr. M- to convince his visitor of the true nature of that world into which he had just entered * * * * *. (To be continued.) To the Editor of the Christian Observer. I AM willing to flatter myself that many of your readers have long been anxiously enquiring what is become of their old friend the Country Gentleman (I begin not to relish the appellation of Country Squire quite so well as I have done); and that their apprehensions that I am dead and buried have not been unaccompanied with lively regret. I am happy to inform them and your self, that I am alive and hearty. My silence has not been without reason, for I had nothing to communicate. In spite, Sir, of my most diligent and persevering exertions, I found it impossible to make any thing of the prosecution for that sermon about Nimrod. Some of my witnesses had been asleep during its delivery; and were unwilling to testify what they had heard in that situation. Others had been thinking of something else, and had heard nothing at all. Others said they remembered the whole very well. But when my Attorney came to examine them, their account was either so confused, that no sense could be collected from it; or, when it was intelligible, it was contradictory. My Counsel too, strange as it may seem, demurred when I had told him my story; and at last said plumply, that he did not think the words were actionable. My patience, which had been severely tried by preceding disappointments, was exhausted by this declaration. I drove the lawyer out of the house as a confederate of the Rector's; and I assure you that I have since thought my self fortunate in not having had any hunting-whip at hand. I solemnly aver, and for the sake of my character am extremely solicitous to satisfy you as well as all your friends, that it was solely in consequence of finding the attainment of my object impracticable that I was at last persuaded to save my money, and desist. My temper I certainly did not save. I inveighed on all occasions against the Rector in terms CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 53. which, much as they fell below my conception of his deserts, were as strong, I believe, as my mother tongue could supply. And I rode every Sunday to a church three miles distant; by which means I secured myself from hearing him preach at me again, and gained a pleasant gallop into the bargain. The clergyman of this church was recommended to me as a good companion, and as the first man in the neighbourhood to flush a woodcock. He often asked me to dine with him: and having plenty of time to entertain his guests (for he had no afternoon prayers), would keep me till late in cheerful conversation. Sometimes he interested me by details of a long fox-chase: sometimes by narratives of the success of a quailpipe of his own invention: sometimes by explanations of his mode of stuffing lapwings for lures, or pickling minnows for baits. He was very humorous also in his accounts of the aukwardness of the Volunteers at their exercise; and of ridiculous mishaps which befell them. Not that he was an enemy to volunteering. He was a true church and king man: and so far from discountenancing the corps, that he intended to have taken the command of it himself, had not a halfpay Lieutenant, recently domesticated in the parish, insisted on his own prior pretensions. The drill always took place on the Sunday morning: and began at the same time with divine service. This time he thought much better than any other: for he laid it down as a position which must be admitted by all considerate men, that if the corps did not exercise in church time, it must exercise either before or after. "Now," said he, "if it should exercise before, the men will be fatigued, and cannot come to church afterwards. And if they were to come, they would be so hot and so sleepy, and would have their heads so full of trumpeting, and wheeling, and priming, and firing, that they would pay no sort of attention to ૨૬ |