She said she had traveled one Sabbath already since she left home, and she supposed it was no worse to travel on another. What then? Are not two sins worse than one?

Another (and she was a lady too) said she could read good books by the way; and you know, said she, that we can have as good thoughts in one place as another. I assented, but could not help thinking that the persons employed in conveying her might not find their situation as favorable to devout reading and meditation. This I suppose, did not occur to her.

Another person said that he would never commence a journey on the Sabbath; but when once set ont, he could see no harm in proceeding. But 1, for my part, could not see the mighty difference between setting out on the Sabbath, and going on on the Sabbath. My perceptions were so obtuse that I could not discern the one to be traveling, and the other to be equivalent to rest.

I heard, among other excuses, this: Sunday was the only day of the week on which the stage run to the place to which the person wished to go, and therefore he was compelled to travel on Sunday. Compelled? Why go to the place at all? Why not procure a private conveyance on another day of the week? What if it would be more expensive? Doing right pays so well, that one can afford to be at some expense to do it.

Again, I was frequently met with this apology for journeying on the Sabbath: "The stage was going on, and if I had laid by on the Sabbath, I should have lost my seat, and might have had to wait on the road, perhaps for a whole week, before I could regain it." This apology satisfied many. They thought it quite reasonable that the person should proceed, under those circumstances. But it did not satisfy me. It occurred to me, that if he had honored the Sabbath, and committed his way to the Lord, he might not have been detained on the road beyond the day of rest. But what if he had been? Are we under no obligation to obey a command of God, it we foresee that obedience to it may be attended with some inconvenience? better the detention of many days than , the transgression of a precept of the decalogue.

One person told me that he meant to start very early in the morning, for he wished to occupy as little of the

Sabbath in traveling as possible. Another proposed to lie by all the middle of the day, and proceed in the evening, and he was sure there could be no harm in that. Ah thought I, and has not the Sabbath a morning and an evening appropriate to itself as well as any other day of the week? Is the morning of the Sabbath all one with Saturday, and the evening no more sacred than Monday? Did God hallow only the middle of the day? And is the day of rest shorter by several hours than any other day? I never could see how one part of the Sabbath should be entitled to more religious respect than another part. It seems to me a man may as properly travel on the noon of the Sabbath, as in the morning or evening.

One person was very particular to tell me what he meant to do after he had traveled a part of the Lord's day. He expected, by about 10 or 11 o'clock, to come across a church, and he intended to go in and worship. That he supposed would set all right again.

Another, a grave looking personage, was traveling on the Sabbath to reach an ecclesiastical meeting in season. Another, in order to fulfill an appointment he had made to preach. These were ministers. They pleaded the necessity of the case; but I could see no necessity in it. I thought the necessity of keeping God's commandments a much clearer and stronger case of necessity. The business of the meeting could go on without that clergyman, or it might have been deferred a day in waiting for him, or he might have left home a day earlier. The appointment to preach should not have been made; or if made should have been broken.

There was an apologist, who had not heard from home for a good while, and he was anxious to learn about his family. Something in their circumstances might require his presence. I could not sustain even that apology, for I thought the Lord could take care of his family without him as well as with him, and I did not, believe they would be likely to suffer by his resting on the Sabbath out of respect to God's commandment, and spending the day in imploring the divine blessing on them.

Another apologist chanced to reach on Saturday night an indifferent public house. He pleaded, therefore

that it was necessary for him to proceed on the next day, antil he should arrive at better accommodations. But I could not help thinking that his being comfortably accommodated was not, on the whole, so important as obedience to the decalogue.

One person thought he asked an unanswerable question, when he begged to know why it was not as well to be on the road, as to be lying by at a country tavern. It occurred to me, that if his horses had possessed the faculty of Balaam's beast, they could have readily told him the difference, and why the latter part of the alternative was preferable.

There was still another person who was sure his excuse would be sustained. He was one of a party, who were determined to proceed on the Sabbath in spite of his reluctance, and he had no choice but to go on with them. Ah, had he no choice? Would they have forced him to go on? Could he not have separated from such a party? Or might he not, if he had been determined, have prevailed on them to rest on the Lord's day? Suppose he had said, mildly yet firmly: "my conscience forbids me to journey on the Sabbath. You can go, but you must leave me. I am sorry to interfere with your wishes, but I cannot offend God." Is it not ten to one such a remonstrance would have been successful? I cannot help suspecting that the person was willing to be compelled in this case.

But many said that this strict keeping of the Sabbath was an old puritanical notion, and this seemed to ease their consciences somewhat. I remarked that I thought it older than puritanism. A sinaitical notion I judged it to be, rather than puritanical.

Many Sunday travelers I met with, begged me not to tell their pious relatives, that they had traveled on the Sabbath. They thought, if these knew it, they would not think so well of them, and they would be likely to hear of it again. No one asked me not to tell God. They did not seem to care how it affected them in his estimation. It never occurred to them that they might hear from the Lord of the Sabbath on the subject.

I do not know any purpose which such apologies for Sabbath-breaking serve, since they satisfy neither God

nor his people, but one, and that is not a very valuable one. They serve only, as far as I can see, to delude those who offer them.

I love to be fair. I have been objecting lately against the Catholics, that they reduce the number of the commandments to nine. I here record my acknowledgment that some of us Protestants have really but nine. The Catholics omit the second; some of our Protestants the fourth.

Beautiful Illustration.

SUPPOSE one man owes another a thousand pounds, but he is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he owes it. His creditor, being a compassionate man, says to him: "I do not wish for your money, and as soon as you will own the debt to be a just one, I will release you from your obligation; but I cannot do it before, for that would be, in fact, acknowledging that I am wrong." The poor man refuses to confess that he owes the money, and is in consequence sent to prison. After remaining there for a time, he sends his creditor word, that he will allow that he owes him a hundred pounds. But that will not do. After another interval, he says he will allow that he owes two hundred pounds; and thus he keeps gradually giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred; there he stops a long while. At length, finding there is no other way of escape, he acknowledges the whole debt and is released. Still it would be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, and the poor man would have no right to say, "I partly deserved it, because I owned the debt;" for he ought to have done that, whether he was liberated

or not.

Just in this manner we have treated God. When he comes and charges us with having broken his law, we deny it; we will allow, perhaps, that we deserve a slight punisnment, but not all that God has threatened. But if ever we are to be saved, God comes, and as it were, shuts us up in prison; that is, he awakens our consciences and sends his Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus we every day see more and more of the desperate wickedness of our

hearts, until we are ready to allow that we have deserved eternal condemnation. As soon as we acknowledge this, God is ready to pardon us; but it is so evident that we do not deserve pardon, that he is not under the least obligation to bestow it, and that all who are saved, are saved through free, unmerited grace.

A Solemn question.

IF you knew this were your last day, would you continue to slight this precious salvation? If you had reason to believe that when at night you close your eyes to sleep, you would wake in eternity, could you then pursue your guilty course of sin and folly? Yet, little as you expect it, this may be the case. Not long ago, the writer kuew a tradesman, apparently vigorous, and to be feared, a man of the world, who was on a journey. He spent the evening at an inn. He was fond of company, was cheerful that night, and sat up later than usual. In the morning he did not rise, and some one entered his chamber. There he lay, a corpse. His bed was unruffled, and he appeared to have died without a struggle; probably while asleep. How solemn the change! Such has been the lot of multitudes, and it may soon be yours. And if it should, with what awful surprise, will eternity open on your unpardoned spirit! Multitudes every morning awake, who, before evening, have finished their course, and are gone to meet their God. Every setting sun, many are found inhabitants of this world, who, before that sun rises again, are fixed in an eternal state. More than eighty thousand human beings are supposed to pass into eternity every four and twenty hours. How soon among these crowds, may you be one?

Death of an Infidel.

A VISITOR to one who had scorned the Bible, states: "I found him in the full possession of his mental faculties, but much agitated and alarmed, by a sense of his treat sinfulness, and approaching misery. About six