and looked and stared at the man, and said to me, "Didn't he say Munden?" The name was not familiar to me, and I said, "I think so." He started and looked, and then said, ""Tis Joe-poz-it is Joe. I'll speak to him, be it he or no!"

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Thus saying, he toddled up the steps; for he was a stout, heavy man, with a head of white hair and a beaming countenance,-a very gentleman in his manners. As he approached the gentleman sitting on the green seat, he politely said, "Do I address Mr. Munden?" Rising quickly from his seat, he said, "My name is Munden, sir; but you have quite the advantage of me,-I don't know you. Who are you?” "What! don't you know me, Joe ?" "Know you ?-no; who are you?" Why, my name is Sam Lowell." "What! Sam Lowell!" and clasping Lowell's hand in both of his, he exclaimed, "Why, Sam, is it you? How long, Sam, is it since we met ?" "I was just thinking how long it is; "Well, Sam, what are you? why, it must be forty years, if it be a day !" what family have you, and where do you live? tell me now in a breath." Well," was the reply, "there is no need to ask what you are; but I am a Dissenting minister; I have seven children, and I live at Bristol. There is my card; and if ever you come to Bristol, you will easily find me out,-and I shall be glad to see you, and talk over old times and events." "A Dissenting minister are you, Sam! and how do you like your work, Sam?" "Well," said Lowell, "I think I like it better and better every year I live." "Ah! you're a happy fellow; you always were such a happy fellow! Sam, I can't say as you do. To make oneself a fule to please a parcel of fules is the fulishest thing a man can do. Oh! Sam, I am sick at heart. I have no satisfaction in it-it affords no satisfaction, Sam, I am witness;-but, then, you know one must take care of the main chance. You know what I have to do at Covent Garden next week. Ah! I am sick as a dog.' So I have come down here to get a little fresh air and breathing. (Munden was then in the meridian of his popularity.) Well, Sam, there's my card; and I have a daughter living with me, and I have a plate and knife and fork for a friend, and a pipe of wine in the cellar; and if you ever come near me, do come and see me. Farewell!"

Thus that interview closed. When we parted with Munden, Lowell said, "Munden and I were schoolfellows; we were both comic, and his course led him to the stage-mine to the pulpit. What a curious thing, that I should have come to Brighton to see my old chum Munden!"

In the month of June, 1822, I was visiting Bath, and went over to Bristol to see my old friend Lowell. It was a beautiful summer's day; and as I opened his garden-gate, I saw him standing at a window; and as I approached the house, he exclaimed to his daughter, "Patty, Patty, come here! why, here is the very man who was with me at Brighton four years ago, when I met Munden there! Come in. Why,

Munden has been breakfasting with us this morning, and hasn't been. gone above half an hour. Why didn't you come to breakfast ? " "Simply because I did not know of it," said I; "had I known, I would have been here." "Well, come in and see what we have been at. Joe came in time for family worship, and united with us with evident earnestness. After breakfast, he said he wished to have my opinion on some points of religion and some passages of Scripture, 'for,' said he, 'ever since I met you at Brighton, I have turned my mind to these matters, and feel interested in them; but there are some things which I can't understand.' We (Lowell went on to say) have had such a morning-a good two hours of explanation and research: here, see these Commentaries which lie open we have been consulting; and Joe's mind, I do think, is opening to the Truth. I do really hope so, for he seemed so simple and earnest and thankful for the explanation, and exclaimed, Wonderful!' and, at parting, said, Well, Sam, when we meet again, I hope I shall know more of things——.

In the autumn of (I think) '27, I was going from Brighton to Southampton by coach, at nine in the morning. On going to the office, I observed a gentleman sitting in the coach, whom I thought I ought to know, but could not recollect who he was. I stepped back and asked the bookkeeper if he could tell me who my fellow-passenger was. He said, "The gentleman is booked for Southampton, in the name of Munden." "Thank you," I said, and got into the coach, taking my place on the opposite seat. A young girl was in the coach, who was only going a short distance. Presently I ventured to speak to my companion, and after a few complimentary expressions, I said, "I think, sir, we have met before." "Indeed, sir, indeed," said Munden; "I have not the pleasure of recollecting you, sir." "No, sir; it is not likely that you would, but I remember you." "Yes," said he, "public men are known by many whom they cannot know. When, sir-on what occasion do you refer to?" I replied, "I was at Brighton in the summer of '18, when my friend Mr. Lowell, of Bristol, met you at the Library steps." "Ah!" said he; "indeed! were you there? I remember it well. I shall never forget it. Why, sir, that was a turning-point of my life! Did you hear our conversation?" "Yes, sir, I heard it generally, for it was not private." "Do you remember, sir, his answer to my inquiring what he was, what family he had, where he lived, and what his occupation ? " "Yes," I replied, "I do, and remember especially that he said, frankly, 'I am a Dissenting minister, have a family, and I live at Bristol; and as to how I like my occupation, why I like it better and better every year I live.'" Ah! sir, that is it. Do you know, I have never forgotten that expression-it was so new and surprising to me; but I knew my honest and happy early friend, and saw so much of serious earnestness in him that I felt it deeply. In fact, sir, it has never been out of my mind since! Sir, I think I owe the greatest obligation to my friend for that

expression. It gave me a serious turn. I suppose you understand me, sir?" I replied, "Yes, oh yes; quite." "Well, sir, I became thoughtful as I never had been before; and I soon determined to give up my profes sion and leave the boards, and give my mind to more grave and serious thoughts. Sir, there is no satisfaction in the profession of the theatre; but there is satisfaction in religion, and I believe my friend Lowell is a religious man. I learned much from him on a visit I paid him since we met in Brighton." Here I interrupted him to tell him that it was very remarkable, that I visited Mr. Lowell the very day he had been breakfasting with him in June, 1822, and heard from him the substance of his inquiries and Scripture researches. "Indeed, indeed, sir! that is very remarkable, and seems to identify you with my eventful life. Oh! sir, what a different thing religion is to what the world in general think it is! I have an only daughter, who is the very soul of my life, and she has married what you call an Evangelical clergyman. Oh! so dear a man! My dear sir, to hear him read the Scripture and pray is the sweetest engagement I know. It is such a pleasure to me, I don't like to be away from them. So I am now on my way to live, or rather, I suppose, to die with them, for I cannot bear to be away from them. He is a curate in Wiltshire, and I am now going to dwell with them." The conversation all the way was of the most interesting kind; and when we parted at Southampton, the impression on my mind was one of great encouragement and hope as to the real and satisfactory state of Mr. Munden's views and experience of personal religion.

But I heard nothing of Mr. Munden after this which was at ail specific. I think I heard of the decease of his daughter, or saw it in some record, but it passed away.

At length, narrating the story to my friend the Editor of the Evangelical Magazine, he suggested that I should write out the narrative and let him have it, and meanwhile try to make out, if I could, the subsequent history of Munden.

My reply was, that the story would be nothing comparatively apart from the narrator, who was a personal witness, unless it were dressed up for the press, which I could not bear to do. However, I did not

neglect to make inquiry as to the subsequent history of Munden.

It so happened that a very respectable gentleman, proprietor of a theatre, and familiar with theatricals, fell in my way; and I ventured to ask him if he knew Munden. "Knew him-ah!" said he, “poor Joe! I knew him years ago." I then asked if he knew anything about his latter days. "No, not much. Poor Munden became melancholy, and retired from the stage; and I don't know what became of him. He had a son, but he is I don't know where."

I then made inquiry by the "Notes and Queries" publication, by which I learned that a Life of Munden was published in two volumes. These I procured, but they afforded me no light on the matter of my

inquiry. The close of his life is simply noticed as a formal matter after he resigned the stage; but where he died, and where he is buried, I have not ascertained; only that he became "melancholy." I expect this means religious: at least, I believe so.

J. N. GOULTY.

The Seal and the Earnest of the Spirit.

THEY are glorious discoveries of "life and immortality" which are "brought to light through the gospel." Nothing can exceed the beauty and grandeur of the revelations which are made to us of the future life. As we think of the "inheritance incorruptible and undefiied," of the "crown of glory that fadeth not away," of the city in which there is "no night," of the perfected bliss and the ceaseless song of the white-robed multitude, and of the body fashioned like the glorified body of Jesus, we may well feel that beyond all that there is nothing left us to desire. Is it not indeed a "great salvation " which is consummated in such a joy ?

“But how," it is most natural to ask," how may I know that the inheritance is mine? There are exceeding great and precious promises' of it; but how may I ascertain whether or not those promises belong to me, and whether or not I am really an heir of glory?"

The Lord Jesus Christ, we reply, intends not only to conduct His people to heaven, but to give them on the way thither all the comfort which springs from the persuasion that it will one day be their home; and He does this through the grace of His Spirit. "In whom also," says the Apostle Paul (Eph. i. 13, 14), "after that ye believed, ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance until the redemption of the purchased possession, unto the praise of His glory."

Believers are first said to be sealed by the Spirit. There seems to be an allusion to the custom of sealing important documents, or to that of placing seals on objects, which were thus indicated as belonging to the persons whose seals were attached. The Holy Spirit"that Holy Spirit of promise "the Spirit promised in the writings of ancient prophets, and especially by the Lord Jesus Christ himself, as the abiding Comforter,-that Spirit is the seal, and the seal is on every true believer. What, then, is the nature of the seal, and what are its purposes? The following remarks may furnish a reply to these questions.

A seal produces a certain impress. It was usual for seals, as well as for coins, to bear the image and superscription of the monarch by whom they were employed. That which was produced presented, of course, his likeness and his name. The Holy Spirit is God; and it is His work to restore in man the image in which He was created,

but which was obliterated by the fall,-to make him "partaker of a Divine nature." The seal of the Spirit, then, is His whole work on the heart-everything which you see and admire in the new creature. Faith, resting on Jesus, and dwelling in the light of things unseen; hope, casting its anchor within the veil; love, fixing its warmest affections on a covenant God and an exalted Saviour, then on the brotherhood, and then on all mankind; peace, joy, gentleness, for bearance, forgiveness: in short, all those excellences which, in their perfection, are exemplified in Jesus, and which are always traced, not to human goodness or human power, but to the quickening energy of the Spirit, these are his seals, the seal which he impresses on every one that believes.

A seal is, again, an attestation of possession. A deed is sealed, and the seal affirms it to have been executed by the party sealing. A seal is placed upon an object, and the seal marks that object as the property of the person whose seal is on it. The work of the Spirit which we have described distinguishes the believer as the child of God. The Spirit in the heart, making His presence manifest by the production of appropriate fruits, is the token of God's acceptance. This is the only mark which He puts upon His own. The Apostle Peter taught this when addressing the church at Jerusalem on behalf of the Gentiles, he insisted on their admission to the enjoyment of equal privileges with their Jewish brethren. (Acts xv. 8, 9.) "And God, which knoweth the hearts, bare them witness, giving them the Holy Ghost, even as He did unto us." This witness of the Holy Ghost was not, he proceeds to say, the testimony afforded by his extraordinary and miraculous gifts, but that of his ordinary and sanctifying ones: "and put no difference between us and them, purifying their hearts by faith."

The assurance given by the seal of the Spirit is twofold. It is an attestation to the believer himself of his sonship. This is the only ground of true confidence. If this be wanting, all else-frames, feelings, recollections, impressions however deep, excitements however glowing, ecstasies however high,-all must go for nothing. "Hereby we know that He abideth in us, by the Spirit which He hath given us,"the Spirit as a Spirit of willing obedience to the commands of Christ; for the former part of the same verse says, "And he that keepeth His commandments dwelleth in Him, and He in him" (1 John iii. 2, 4). Hereby know we that we dwell in Him, and He in us, because He hath given us of His Spirit,"-the Spirit as a Spirit of love; for the preceding verse says, "If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and His love is perfected in us" (1 John iv. 12, 13). The Apostle Paul puts the thing negatively, but with equal distinctness and force: "Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His."

Yet this seal is to be the attestation of his sonship, not only to the Christian himself, but also to others. The seat of all true religion is