exact conformity to the word of God. We are more apt to form such ideas of the Supreme Being as are dictated by self-love, than implicit ly to receive the declarations of the Bible respecting the character of God. In this sacred book we have a history of the conduct of the Almighty towards his creatures, under a variety of circumstances, and from these historical facts, as well as from express declarations, our notions of the divine character should originate. It is of the utmost consequence, that children should be taught to draw their ideas of God from the declarations and historical facts of the Bible, for without this foundation laid in the mind their whole system of religion must be

erroneous.

With the scriptural character of God are intimately connected the purity of the divine law, the method of salvation by a mediator, and the necessity of personal holiness. The instructions which are given to children should always keep those fundamental truths in view: for without a deep sense of these things, our knowledge must be superficial, and our service formal.

Children should be taught, as soon as they become capable of reflection, to attend to the workings of their own minds; that they may discover the deceitfulness of their hearts, and become thoroughly acquainted with their inbred corruption. Christ is precious to those only who know their own vileness; and the influences of the Holy Spirit will be earnestly sought by those alone, who are deeply conscious of their own depravity, and moral inability.

Christian education will still be imperfect, unless to pious instruction there be added the pious EXAMPLE of the parent. Children are acute in discovering any deviation from those precepts which are enforced upon them. They keep a watchful eye upon the conduct of their parents; and are glad to discover any thing that can prove an argument

in favour of relaxation in their own obedience. On the contrary, a constant visible regard in the parent to the commands of God, which he is daily enforcing, tends to make the most powerful impression on the minds of his children, and to remove all doubt of the rectitude of the instructions which they receive.

I have already observed, that one great benefit which we derive from the institution of the sabbath, is that of affording time for more ample instruction than can, in many situations, be obtained on the days of labour. I would here remark, that a conscientious regard in the parent to the sacredness of this holy season, is of great importance in a system of religious education. Let all worldly and trifling conversation be avoided on this day, that the impressions made by the public or family exercises of religion may not be obliterated by a carelessness to improve the intervals of religious service.

Children are not ignorant of the truth of that divine aphorism, Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh: nor will they be easily persuaded that religious truths make deep impressions on the minds of their parents, when nothing is heard that can direct the mind to eternal objects, except at the stated hours of instruction. And as God has expressly forbidden us to speak our own words on the sabbath, an example of conformity to this gracious command should be shewn by every master of a family, whose peculiar office it is to direct the subjects of discourse to those who are in his presence, and under his care.

The influence of example should make parents extremely cautious in the choice of companions for their children. With this view those schools should be chosen where pious example may be added to religious instruction and useful learning. It gives me pleasure, while on this subject, to be able to congratulate the friends of religion, that instructors may be found in

this kingdom, in whom are combined the excellent qualities required in a Christian teacher.

The company to which children are introduced in other places should be such as shall have no tendency to make them slight the religious instructions of their parents and

masters.

This great object should also be kept in view in the choice of situation for the trade or profession to which they are educated; as the highest interest of a child ought to have the first place in our regard. But my design is not to write a system of education, a subject too copious for an article in your miscellany, and too complex for my abilities. I wish merely to throw out a few hints in compliance with the request of your correspondent, and such as have been suggested by the experience of a parent.

I must not, however, conclude these hints without reminding the Christian parent, that to all his endeavours (be they ever so judicious) must be added constant prayer for the influences of the holy spirit, without which true religion will never be implanted in the minds of his children. Though Paul should plant, and Apollos water, without the influence of divine grace no fruits of righteousness will appear; for it is God that giveth the increase. But we have the strongest reason to hope for this blessing, whilst diligently, and with an humble dependance on his grace, we use the means which God hath appointed.

PATER.

To the Editor of the Christian Observer. I AM aware, Mr. Editor, that to abound in egotism is not very consistent either with Christian humility, or with good taste; and yet I am persuaded, that a majority of your readers are much more likely to interest themselves in a paper professing to be a narrative of the writer's own life, than in a merely didactic piece. It is not my pur

pose, however, to detail the whole of my private history, or to divulge to you my present occupation or condition in life. Suffice it to say, in the way of introduction, that I have for some time formed opinions respecting the world not unlike to your own; but that having been employed of late in contemplating my own character much more than that of other persons, I may perhaps, without extraordinary presumption, lay some little claim to the title of a Self-observer. And as the augmentation of the number of Selfobservers is the chief end of my writing, I hope that you will allow to my letter a place in your useful miscellany.

I was born, Mr. Editor, of religious parents, though not perhaps quite so religious as that term might lead some of your readers to imagine. -But where is the person whose religion is every thing which we could wish? When we look back on human life, whom have we found in our journey through it, whose orthodoxy or whose charity, whose piety or whose morality, has not drooped at this or at the other period;-has not limped a little either on this side or on that? I am determined to say little of my parents; they have long since left the world;-but I shall speak particularly of my aunt.

I was sent when very young to school at a considerable distance from my father's residence, and as my aunt lived very near to our little academy, I both spent with her many of my holidays, and was often at her house at other times. She was on the whole a good woman, pious and sincere, humble and unassuming, affectionate and benevolent, erring, I admit, on the side of too much indulgence, for she both fared rather luxuriously herself, and provided abundance of excellent cheer for other people. She possessed, indeed, an independent fortune, and I am persuaded that ber sedentary, and somewhat too soft and self-indulgent mode of living ap

peared to her to be no more than was consistent with it. The education of women in former days was by no means so intellectual as it is at present: and my aunt was one of those who neglected to improve their understanding. She moreover made a free use of that species of pious phraseology which, though it usually indicates a devout mind, and is a recommendation in some circles, excites prejudice in others, and has obtained in the world, and even among religious persons of a fastidious kind, the unfavourable name of cant. My aunt had acquired few ideas. She also lived in a narrow circle; and I am persuaded that her too frequent repetition of the same pious expressions arose not so much from any peculiarity in her religion, as from the general poverty of her mind. She was well grounded in the great doctrines of Christianity, but she could speak of these only after one manner, and she was accustomed to consider every deviation from her own form of words as implying an imperfect knowledge of the "language of Zion," and a want of that full acquaintance with "the truth" which she herself possessed. I have no clear remembrance of all my intercourse with her at this early period. I can however recollect that I thought her possessed of an uncommon share of good nature, a virtue of the first class in the eyes of youth, and at the same time extremely profuse in her religious talk; that after dinner I eat as many plumbs as I liked; that before dinner, in order to stay my stomach, I had a large piece of excellent cake; that I used to kneel down to her family prayers with the utmost promptitude and good will, and was rather vain of the manner in which I read to her a chapter in the Bible; in short that I liked both her doctrine and her diet bread, both her plumb pudding and her good advice. Among all my various relations, not one was at this time so great a favourite as my pious aunt.

When I found myself advancing towards the estate of man, I began to be ambitious of a reputation for learning and good sense, and this disposition contributed to alienate my mind both from my aunt and from the kind of religion which she professed. I associated the idea of contracted information and defective intellect with almost all the peculiar tenets which she maintained. At the age of about nineteen I made her a visit after a long absence from her house, and you can hardly conceive how much the perpetual recurrence of her phraseology, which I perceived to be offensive in some respects to good grammar, in others to true taste, now excited my disgust. The dread also of having my character identified with hers led me at this time to determine that I would strongly mark my dissent. Judge, Sir, of my surprise at happening a few months after this period to meet with a friend of rare endowments-a man unspeakably elevated above me both as to erudition and talents-who possessed the very principles of my aunt. He affirmed her doctrines indeed in a manner more consonant to good taste, but he used a large part of her phraseology; and employed it more particularly, when he freely opened his mind on religious subjects. I was led by this friend into the society of some other persons who more or less resembled himself; though among a certain portion of our company might now and then be seen a striking likeness of my aunt. I thus was cured of the violence of my prejudice against many leading doctrines of our religion; for I heard them defended with skill and judgment, and sufficiently guarded from abuse. I even learnt the art of defending them myself.

Your readers probably will not suppose that I was living at this time in any very unchristian course. The truth is, that my life was decent, my conscience apt to be alarmed if I fell into any great trans

gression, and my reputation for piety just sufficient to obtain for me a tolerable reception in religious parties., I believe however, that I was a rather suspected character in some of those circles, and that the suspicion arose chiefly from the circumstance of my being known occasionally to resort to a few fashionable places of amusement. I was at this time conscious of much waste of time, much want of self government, much ambition and vanity of heart; and I should think that I must have betrayed some of these faults: but they seemed to excite only a slighter kind of prejudice against me among many of these pious people.

Some events soon afterwards occurred, events not necessary to be detailed, which cast a general gloom over my mind, and imparted a new gravity to my character. I now rose at once in the estimation of my serious friends; many of whom confidently dated my conversion from this period. The truth is, that I felt weary of the world in consequence of being unable to disentangle myself from some uncomfortable connections which I had formed, and to escape the bitter consequences of some false steps which I had taken. Perhaps my religious acquaintance did not altogether err as to the nature of the change of which I am speaking; but they certainly overvalued the seriousness which they saw in me. I was too serious; too exclusively fond of solemn subjects; too desponding as to my future prospects in life. I was also too negligent of dress; too inattentive to some of my worldly interests; too indifferent to money; too bountiful at least to certain persons of my own religious sentiments, some of whom I now suspect to have been hypocrites; too distant towards several of my relations and natural connections. Above all I was too harsh a judge of others, especially of those who erred on the side of an excess of cheerfulness, and I was too cold to the temporal happiness of my fellow creatures. To some doc

trines of religion which I had before admitted, I now indeed felt an increasing attachment; such as the corruption of our nature, the neces sity of regeneration, the shortness and vanity of life, the infinite evil of sin, and the eternity of future punishments. I also grew zealous respecting the duty of renouncing the world, and incurring the persecution of the irreligious. Through these causes my character for piety and for orthodoxy became completely established in my own party.

It

After no great lapse of time I began to find some recompence for the worldly privations and disappointments which I had sustained, in the growing kindness of these pious friends, and also in the self complacency which I derived from the high reputation which I was conscious of possessing in this very serious and devout circle. I trust that I was not altogether a stranger to that deep humility which I professed (an humility indeed, chiefly exercised towards God) and to which my doctrines naturally tended. is however certain, that the same vanity which had before marked my character insensibly revived, though it shewed itself after another manner. I obtained, or rather I assumed, the lead in many religious questions. I grew a little contentious and intolerant, always however imagining that I was zealous only for the truth. By degrees I became more and more impatient of contradiction and apt to take offence. Being not a little conceited in my own eyes, I was jealous of my reputation for spiritual knowledge, and confident of my own power of defining almost to perfection several difficult and abstruse points; points bordering indeed on evangelical doctrine, but which Scripture seems to have left in purposed obscurity, and on which it has but slightly touched. I was now spoiled in a great measure by my religious friends. Some of the best of our party withdrew to a certain distance from us, but those who remained,

looked at me, as I now see, with a most undue reverence: and a few of the more simple of them flattered me to my very face, and erected me into a perfect Pope. Do not how ever imagine that I who thus gave the law was an independent character. I was accustomed, after the manner of other legislators, to accommodate my decisions to the taste of those whom I seemed to govern; and I was therefore at once both the leader and the follower, both the prince and the slave of my religious party. My very judgment and conscience received an influence from their conscience and judgment. I erred where they erred-I agreed where they agreed with Jesus Christ and his Apostles and I was admired and applauded by them, because they saw that in my estimate of the orthodoxy of others, and in my admeasurement of every doctrine, sentiment, and practice, I made use exactly of their line and their plum

met.

There is one circumstance which I must not omit to mention: Would you believe, Mr. Editor, that I, who had once been so great an enemy to cant, became at this time distinguished by several peculiarities in my religious phraseology? I was totally unconscious of this fault, but I have been well assured by friends in whom I can confide, that I gave no small offence on one or two occasions by the almost unintelligible quaintness of certain parts of my diction.

But to proceed. I was not at this time unsound as to the general theory of my religion. During the former part of the period of which I now speak, I mean the period of my more particular gravity and seriousness, I knew theoretically, at least, many excellent truths of Christianity which I practically neglected. I knew that an orthodox creed was not sufficient of itself to constitute a Christian. I often admitted in my general language that relative duties ought all to be fulfilled, and that universal kindness ought

to be exercised. I could say with my lips that God is love, and that love is the chief grace of the Gos pel, and that he that loveth God should love his neighbour also. I knew likewise, and could occasionally affirm that thankfulness be→ comes every one who has a good hope that his sins are pardoned; and that thankfulness ought to manifest itself both by a cheerful counte nance and by an overflowing kindness to all around us. I nevertheless had an exceedingly faint perception of my real deficiencies in these points, and the few remarks which I made upon them were uttered chiefly with a view of defending my own character, which I understood to be assailed on this side, and of displaying the completeness of my religious system.

In the subsequent period when my gloom abated, and my self-complacency was at its height, I knew in like manner that spiritual pride ought to be carefully avoided, and I used occasionally to have on my lips that expression of Scripture, "He that thinketh that he knoweth any thing knoweth nothing yet as he ought." I sometimes was even zealous, so far as my conversation was concerned, for the practical part of religion, not yet fully understanding that to talk of practice is one thing, and really to excel in it, is another; and not at all suspecting that there is a habit of declaiming even on the best subjects, which, if the heart be not strictly watched, may serve only to deceive.

I was delivered from the partial delusion to which I was now subject nearly in the following manner. While I was living in the bosom of my serious friends, was laying down the law for others, and enjoying a very high reputation for religious excellency, I was assailed by some temptations which had slept during my more melancholy impressions, but now suddenly threatened to overcome me, and to render me a complete captive to sin. Happy in one sense are they in whose mind