be surprised to find, how much they may learn from it. And here it is necessary to remind the reader, that Jonah was no mercenary soothsayer, like the greedy Balaam, but was a true prophet of God, and is honored by the title of his servant, in 2 Kings xiv. 25. Now, as such, we must deal tenderly with him, and remember that it is only one particular incident in his life with which we are acquainted; and that therefore it would be as unjust to form an opinion from it, of his general character, as it would be to judge of that of David, "the man after God's own heart," from the recorded fact of his having committed a heinous crime, which " displeased the Lord." We have moreover in the prophet's prayer, one of the most extraordinary instances of faith on record. The very idea of being rescued from so overwhelming a situation, would have displayed immense confidence in God's power; but Jonah went much further than this, and while still a prisoner in the fish's belly, he appears to have been as satisfied that God had heard his prayer, as if he had been already safe on dry ground; and speaks as confidently of performing the vows' which he promised, in gratitude for his deliverance, as if he were then in sight of the holy temple. And all this was before the Lord spake unto the fish, that it should vomit out Jonah upon the dry land. Is not this a proof that the apostle's definition may be actually realized, "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." To remove all difficulty, it may be well to observe, that the greater part of the prayer evidently refers to the short time which must have intervened between the prophet's being cast into the sea by the sailors, and his being swallowed up by the fish.

Now it is a grand mistake if any one supposes that fear for his personal safety induced the prophet to attempt to escape from the path of duty. A man who could sleep soundly through "a mighty tempest on the sea," and who dreaded death so little, that, as soon as aroused from his sleep, he could actually urge the mariners to cast him into the raging billows, was not one to shrink as a coward from the anger of the wicked Ninevites, had he supposed that his preaching would have excited it. No! if Jonah could have been sure of that, he would have gone with a straight course unto Nineveh. It was love of self, regard for his

own reputation as a prophet, which misled him. Arrived at the city, we are told that he was "exceedingly displeased," and "very angry"- so much so, that he thought death preferable to life. The evil which he had anticipated, happened--the calamity, which he had fled to Tarshish to avert, was not an imaginary one, for behold the people repented at his preaching, and God, "the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever," proved himself of the same disposition as his servant had ever found him, a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger, and of great kindness, ready to pardon, and eager to repent of meditated evil; and because Jonah rightly understood the character of God, therefore he fled to Tarshish. "Was not this my saying when I was yet in my country? therefore I fled before unto Tarshish; for I knew thee that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil." What a confession! How lamentably does the prophet appear to have forgotten himself. He was practically finding fault with the character of the Almighty, and would fain, it should seem, have served a

harsher master.

He

It was not, however, that Jonah delighted in the prospect of the temporal and eternal death of more than six score thousand ignorant persons. If his self-love could have been gratified equally by the salvation of Nineveh, as by its destruction, how gladly would he have had it spared. The prophet would willingly have sacrificed the honor of foretelling so notable and awful an event, rather than it should have occurred. would, doubtless, much have preferred that God should have chosen any one else for the office; but once having foretold it, he could not bear the idea of being thought a false prophet, a fanatic, or it may be, a mad-man. It may easily be imagined that his fears were not groundless, and that the people would, as soon as they had recovered from their fright, decry Jonah as a terrorist; but that was foresight, most unbecoming in him, and most culpably selfish. It does indeed appear almost incredible, that selfishness should so entirely have obtained possession of his heart, and that, especially after so signal and miraculous a deliverance. But strange as it may seem, so it was, and not till God had reproved him, by causing him to feel sorrow for the friendly gourd which sheltered his head, arguing from thence how much

more deserving of his pity were the poor Ninevites, that Jonah was brought to a better mind. We are justly shocked at the investigation: so was David at Nathan's parable. It behoves us all, therefore, to be careful lest, in our haste to condemn the erring prophet, we are unconsciously, like David, passing judgment on ourselves. Love of ease and comfort, self-indulgence of any sort, if it be at the expense of duty, is only another form of Jonah's sin.

It is true we have not, like him, received a direct personal call to undertake a missionary labor, but the general one of our blessed Lord is amply sufficient, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." It matters not whether our sphere of action be a city as populous as Nineveh, a territory vast as Africa, or whether it be limited to a country parish, a small district or a school room. The principle involved is the same, and if our hearts condemn us of a want of zeal and activity, we must infer that selfishness, in some shape or other, is not yet eradicated from our breasts; and that we are in consequence no less to blame than Jonah.

There are very many profitable lessons to be derived from this history, one or two of which may be hinted at,-such as the tender mercy of God to those of his creatures who are ignorant of him, affording a proof that he is "not willing that any should perish." Again, God's patience and forbearance with the failings of his people; and once more, his almighty power, shewing that nothing "is too hard for the Lord." If the reader will take the trouble to develope those already glanced at, and search for others, they will find it a profitable and interesting exercise for their thoughts. T. Y.

TRUTH ENTIRE.

THERE is scarcely one of the peculiar doctrines of Christianity which will not stagger our reason, and tax to the utmost our faith, if we single it out from its connexion with the rest, and with the end and design of the whole thing. Having so isolated it, nothing is easier than to hold it up in the sight of others, and to say, "See here! what a monstrous thing to ask any man to believe!" Yet nothing can be more unfair. The only fair,

honest and rational mode of dealing with this system is, to ask what does it profess to be or to do? What is its end? Reject that if you will, or can! Say that that is an absurdity or impossibility; and so get rid of it, if you choose. In that is no unreasonableness, no unfairness. Or if not that, then compare its means with its end, and say that they are disproportioned, therefore unwise, therefore not divine, not worthy of human reception. In that again is no unfairness. But do not pick it to pieces, and bring its separate parts, and call them meaningless, monstrous, useless, absurd, if you wish for the reputation of honesty in argument, or reasonableness of procedure. The way in which Christianity has been treated has been much as if one should go to a man utterly ignorant of all the machinery of the civilized world, to prove to him what consummate fools Englishmen were to waste their money in making steam engines, to manufacture their clothing, and the like, and should begin by showing him drawings of its separate parts. First he produces a boiler, "What a stupid thing that,” he might say, "to make a piece of cloth with." Then a flywheel, then a beam, then a crank, and finally, a fire-box. It would be very possible to dilate on the absurdity of each of these things as a contrivance for producing some piece of exquisite or delicate manufacture, until you excited your audience into the profoundest pity or contempt for the superstitious fools who believe in steam engines, and positively spend their precious money by heaps in making such very absurd monstrosities. Yet, that is precisely the way in which Christianity has been handled. Nay! in a way still more ludicrous! For ingenuity and enthusiasm have been expended by the bushel to demonstrate the absurdity of particular and isolated parts of Christianity, without the slightest reference to the end it professes to seek, and for whose accomplishment alone it exists. -Conder's Lectures to the Working Classes.

THE FAULTY MILL.

AN active and skilful young minister was once told of a miller, who with more than usual profaneness had repelled every attempt to approach him on the subject of religion, and

had discouraged the hopes and efforts of the few serious persons in his vicinity. Among other practices of sinful daring, he uniformly kept his windmill, the most striking object in the hamlet, going on the Sabbath.

In a little time the minister determined to make an effort for the benefit of this apparently hopeless man. He undertook the office of going for his flour the next time himself.

"A fine mill," said he, as the miller adjusted his sack to receive the flour; " a fine mill indeed! one of the completest I have ever seen!"

This was nothing more than just what the miller had heard a thousand times before, and would firmly have thought it, though he had only heard it once; but his skill and judgment were still gratified by this new testimony, and his feelings conciliated, even towards the minister.

"But oh!" continued his customer, after a pause, "there is one defect in it."

"What is that?" carelessly asked the miller.

"A very serious defect too."

"Eh?" replied the miller snappishly.

"-A defect that is likely to counterbalance all the advantages."

"Well, what is it?" said the miller, standing straight up, and looking the minister in the face.

"But he still went on, apparently unmoved,-" A defect that is likely to ruin the whole mill."

"What is it?" reiterated the miller.

"And will no doubt ruin the owner."

"Can't you say it out ?" exclaimed the impatient miller. "It goes on the Sabbath," pronounced the minister, in a firm, solemn, and monitory tone.

The astonished man stood blank and thunderstruck, and remained meek and submissive, under a remonstrance and exhortation of a quarter of an hour's length, in which the danger of his state and practices, and the call to repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ were fully proposed to him.