stands aghast and faith herself is half confounded;" and he might have received it in its native beauty and uncorrupted lustre, "Majestic in its own simplicity,"

the ornament, support, guide, and joy of his soul, conducting him tranquilly through life, to an everlasting hope. But of all this he had been deprived. He had come to reject the gospel, from never knowing truly its real character. He had thrown away its peace, from having a counterfeit offered in its stead.

But though he had rid himself of this cause of trouble he was far from tranquility. His religious propensities were strong, and his education had been such as to associate ideas of the highest importance with the subject. His reverence for God was deep and habitual, his belief in a future state fixed, and his conviction that God had revealed himself to the world was too deep rooted to be easily removed. There was a great deal, too, sublime and beautiful and delightful in the history, character, and teaching of Jesus, which he could not reconcile with his imposture, any more than he could reconcile the doctrines he had

been taught with his truth. Here, then, was another distressing embarrassment. At length he strove to escape from it by avoiding the subject altogether. He put away his Bible, he neglected public worship, he involved himself in other studies and active pursuits, and tried to forget all he had ever known or thought about revealed religion.

But he could not succeed. It came to his thoughts in spite of him, and never suffered him to be at rest. His mind often misgave him; he became anxious, melancholy, fitful, unsettled; an unbeliever, yet longing to believe; striving to think himself wiser and happier than others, yet secretly hoping he should one day be like them; with a fixed abhorrence of what had been urged on him as the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, yet conscious that human wisdom could have no light, and human weakness no hope, except from the declared mercy of heaven.

Such was Mr Garstone when I knew him; and I may truly say, that I never have seen the man more deserving of compassion; nor can I imagine a more sad picture of the

deplorable effects of unbelief. I bent my knee in devout gratitude for the felicity I enjoyed in the glorious faith and hope of Christ, and breathed an earnest prayer that I might be enabled to heal the errors and comfort the spirit of this unhappy and mistaken man.

CHAPTER XVI.

My first object was to gain the confidence of Mr Garstone; for it was above all important, that he should not be prejudiced against the person who would endeavour to remove his prejudice against the Christian revelation. In this attempt I had reason to think that I did not fail; and having secured his friendship, I laid in wait for opportunity to use it.

I was not long in finding one. It was after the death of Mr Ellerton, his friend and my friend. I spoke of his character, and of the loss we sustained in his removal, with the feelings of a friend, and of his prospect in a better world, with the hope

of a christian. I dwelt at some length on the assurance of our immortality, derived from the instructions and resurrection of Christ, and, with all the emphasis I could command, pictured the blessedness of a believer's hope. I could perceive that Mr Garstone was moved. I had touched a string which vibrated powerfully, to every word I uttered.

"These are delightful thoughts," he said, after a pause; "butHe hesitated

and stopped.

"But

I took the word from his mouth. there is no assurance of this truth, except from the voice of revelation. All is doubt except from the instructions of Jesus Christ. His resurrection makes all clear."

"Mr Anderson," said my friend, "my respect for you and for the opinions of those with whom I live, has always prevented me from obtruding my own sentiments on subjects of this nature. You cannot, however, be ignorant of my mind, and it were better, perhaps, that we should be silent where we cannot agree.

I felt that this was the decisive moment;

and with a violent effort said the first thing that occurred to me, lest I should be unable to say any thing. "I know," said I," that you have doubts as to the christian revelation; but I hope they do not extend to the immortality of the soul. And I see not why we should not converse on the subject. I do long to know on what your doubts are grounded."

"I do believe in the immortality of the soul," he replied; " and for this very reason I cannot believe in the christian religion. For how can I suppose that immortal beings are formed by their Creator in a bondage so degrading and so hopeless, as your system teaches-from which only a small proportion of them can ever be rescued, and they only by the sufferings and death of the Creator himself in human form? How can I imagine him to be divinely commissioned, who proclaims to me such horrors -and yet calls them glad tidings and a message of peace, though only calculated to harass and torment the soul, as they once did mine? It is true he teaches the doctrine of a future life; but how can I believe