see a minister, or some other Christian friend: he at first refused; but has since consented.'

"I of course took an early opportunity to visit him, and found his condition even worse than had been represented. It presented a wan, ghastly countenance, a sunken eye, a hollow voice, as from the tomb, an expression of intolerable anxiety upon his countenance, everything indicating extreme. wretchedness, and an opening grave. He was at first disinclined to converse; he seemed to be completely reserved, and no efforts could draw him forth. I addressed a few words to him, such as I thought best calculated to lead his thoughts to the Saviour, and, with his permission, offered a short prayer. On retiring, I asked him if he would like to have me call again; he assented.

"Soon after I renewed the visit. He was lying in bed, and had just recovered from a severe paroxysm of coughing. After a short time, he beckoned me to him, and, with a low voice, said he should like to see me alone for a few moments. The nurse and lady of the house, who were present, left the room. When we were alone, he fixed his eyes upon me in silence. There seemed to be a conflict in his mind, whether to speak or refrain. At length his struggling spirit burst its enclosure, and he began to tell something of his history.

"He was now in his twenty-sixth year. For nearly five years he had been, as he supposed, a

confirmed infidel.

He had become an alien from his parents, they did not even know where he was, nor was he willing that they should. He felt that he had ruined himself. He saw clearly where the work of ruin commenced; it was in his resisting his early convictions of truth and duty. His father was not a godly man; but his mother was pious, and, he had no doubt, she had wept rivers of tears over him.

"After a gust of emotion, which for a moment suspended his utterance, he proceeded: 'It was not infidelity that ruined him; the procuring cause of his ruin lay farther back. IT WAS HIS RESISTING THE ADMONITIONS OF GOD, AND THE STRIVING OF HIS SPIRIT, THAT MADE HIM AN INFIDEL; but his infidelity had served to plunge him into more open and desperate iniquities. Since he had embraced infidelity, he had committed vices at which his earlier youth would have shuddered: fraud, gambling, drunkenness, seduction; he had led others into the same vices.

"But these,' continued he, are only the warts and excrescences of my ruined character, the ruin itself is deep in the soul, and the misery with which it is overtaken here is only premonitory of the everlasting misery which awaits it beyond the grave. For several years I have tried to disbelieve the Bible. I have succeeded. I have been a confirmed infidel.

More than that, I have been an atheist.

I used to hear it said that no man could be really an atheist; but I know to the contrary. I have been an atheist. I have perfectly and fatally succeeded in being given over to a strong delusion to believe a lie, that I might be damned, because I obeyed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness. But I am no longer an atheist, I am convinced that there is a God. I feel, I know that I am an accountable being; and that a righteous judgment awaits me in eternity!'

"After a moment's rest, his countenance gathering more intensity of expression, he added, with increased energy, 'But the most terrible thing to reflect on is, that I have not only ruined myself, but have been the cause of leading others to ruin. Oh, I am sure that the everlasting execration of ruined souls must follow me into eternity! Oh that I had never been born, or had sunk into death upon my mother's arms.'

"I here endeavoured to cast oil upon the rising waves of emotion, and to calm his tempestuous spirit, by reminding him of the great mercy and forgiveness there is in God. No,' replied he, not for me, I cannot be forgiven, and I CANNOT REPENT, MY But I feel greatly re

DAY OF GRACE IS ALL OVER.

lieved since I have told you my story, I am glad you came, șir, wretched as I am, this is the best moment I have seen for a long time. I have hitherto kept all this to myself, it has been as a fire shut

up in my breast, I have not known one hour of peace since I left the paths of virtue, and for two or three years I have been perfectly wretched. I have often been upon the point of committing suicide.'

"After a few words intended to direct his mind to the source of hope, I left him promising to see him again the next morning, if he should survive till then. He did survive-the morning came, but it was no morning to him. The sweet rays of the rising sun shot no kindling gleam of hope into his dark and troubled soul. I had hoped, I had almost expected, to find it otherwise.

"I have somewhat doubted in regard to the expediency of relating his expressions the next morning, but as I have undertaken to report the facts as they were, I do not know that I should do right to withhold a part of them, especially as he had not only permitted but requested me to admonish all others by his example, if peradventure he might serve as a beacon to warn them off from the vortex into which he had been drawn. He had no longer any wish to conceal anything; he seemed rather to wish to proclaim his wretchedness to the world. He was dead to hope, and alive to despair, with recollections of his past life, an awakened conscience, eternity full in view but a step before him, and every gleam of hope excluded. Oh it was indeed a painful illustration of the inspired truth, that some

men's sins are open before hand, going before to judgment.'

"The following conversation took place on the occasion now referred to :

"How do you do, my friend, this morning.' "As miserable as sin and wrath can make me!' "This he said with an emphasis which surprised and startled me.

"And did you obtain no rest last night?'

"Not a moment's rest; my soul has been in perfect misery!'

"But you are excited; your body is diseased, and your mind is weak and morbid. You ought to endeavour to compose yourself to rest, to become calm, and to look to that source of forgiveness and mercy which is still open to you, if you repent and

believe.'

"No, no, it is impossible! I cannot compose myself, I cannot be calm, my body is well enough, but my soul has been in hell all night! I have denied that there is a hell: I have scoffed at it; I have induced others to do the same, and now God is convincing me of my error. Oh, I know now that there is a hell; I feel it in my own spirit. I am glad that you have come to see me, that I may tell you how miserable I am. This is the only relief I can get. You are the first person to whom I have ventured to make known my misery. I have for a