modate him as comfortably as usual; | DANCE.-Though somewhat eccentric but the pastor, without being discon- in his manners, Mr. Byne was nevercerted, asked him to have his supper theless a fearless and faithful servant of served to him in a corner of the room. the Lord. Not long after he joined the When it was ready, he begged the as- church, he was invited by some of his sembly to grant him a few moments former companions in sin to attend a silence, that he might, according to his dancing-party, which he agreed to do practice, make an audible prayer before on condition, expressly understood, that partaking of the meal. He accordingly he should give direction to all the exercommenced praying, but before he had cises of the evening. When the comfinished, the dancers had disappeared. pany had collected (among whom were (b) THE DEVIL CHEATED.- Mr. Byne and his wife), a young lady "Father Hull," now deceased, was a stepped forward and invited the preacher preacher of the old school, South Caro- to dance. He accepted her invitation lina Conference. Passing along the high- so far as to walk out on the floor with way one evening, in a strange, wicked her, when the violin struck up a lively country, he called at a good-looking air. Mr. Byne claimed his right to house for lodgings. Weary and faint, give directions, sung a spiritual song, in he sat down by the fireside. After a which he was joined by several of the while, as night began to close in, com- party-kneeled down and offered up panies of well-dressed gentlemen and fervent and affecting prayer. By th ladies flocked into his room. One drew time he concluded his second spiritu: out his violin, and commenced playing. song, tears were overflowing from man Away scampered the youngsters, hop-eyes-the dance was converted into a ping and leaping: it was "a ball!" Here prayer-meeting, and this was the last sat the stranger looking silently on. At frolic ever attempted to be held in that length a partner was wanted, and one house. ventured up and asked Mr. Hull if he would take the floor. Certainly, madam!" said he, rising and walking out on the floor as he spoke; "but I have long made it a rule never to commence any business till I have asked the direction of the Lord, and his blessing upon it. Will you all join in prayer with me?" As he spoke these words, he fell on his knees and began to pray. Some kneeled, others stood, all petrified with astonishment. In the meantime, being a holy, faithful man, and peculiarly powerful in prayer, he seemed to draw the very heavens and earth together. Some groaned, some shrieked aloud, and many fell prostrate, like dead men on the floor. Truly the place was sweet and awful on account of the divine presence. In short, the dance was turned into a religious meeting, from which many dated their conviction and conversion, and the commencement of a powerful revival. "Behold what a great matter a little fire kindleth!" O, had we more faith and intrepidity, what good we might do! How glorious to attack, and drive the devil from his own strongholds. (e) PRAYER AT A PUBLIC (d) THE METHODIST AND THE DINNER-PARTY. In the district which I once travelled (says a writer in the "Christian Advocate"), on Easter Monday, 1825, a gentleman invited a number of his neighbours to dine with him; and among the rest a good Methodist lady was invited. She accepted the invitation, and attended, without the most distant thought that anything contrary to her profession would be introduced. In this, however, she was disappointed; for, after dinner, the fiddle was brought in, and the company rose to play and amuse themselves by danc ing. At length one, with a spirit more daring than the rest, approached her, and asked her to dance. Without a verbal reply she rose from her seat and accompanied him on the floor. The company was arranged, the fiddler, sitting with lifted heel and elbow sprung, and no doubt, the devil laughing in his sleeve, and saying, 66 Another Methodist safely in my trap." But the good angel whispered, "Not yet, sir." She paused, and then said, "It is my custom to sing a little first ;" and standing there, she gave out a verse and sang. She then said, "It is my custom to pray a little first," and dropped upon her knees | there. Every heart seemed full of gladand prayed; and no doubt her prayer ness, every voice was one of joy. Bwas the legitimate offspring of a warm appeared among the rest, with a brow heart. Some of the company remained, that spoke the purpose of a determined some ran away, and some trembled and soul. He was the first on the floor wept. The dance was broken up, the to lead off the dance. A cotillion was fiddler disappointed, the devil defeated, formed, and as the circle stood in the and the good Methodist lady victorious. centre of the room, with every eye (e) THE YOUNG CONVERT'S fixed on them, what was the astonishPRAYER IN THE BALL-ROOM.- ment of the company when Braised In one of the interior counties of Penn- his hands and said, "LET US PRAY." sylvania, a young man whom, for the The assembly was awe-struck. Not a sake of distinction, we shall call B, word was uttered, but all were as silent was convicted of sin, and led to inquire as the grave, while B- poured out anxiously the way to be saved. He his heart to God in behalf of his young was the son of one of the most respect- companions, his parents, and the place able and wealthy inhabitants of that in which they lived. With perfect comregion of country, but his father was posure he concluded his prayer, and all unhappily a bitter opposer of the reli- had left the room silently, but one. A gion of Christ. Perceiving the state of young lady whom he had led upon the his son's mind, he determined to leave floor as his partner, stood near him no means untried to divert his attention bathed in tears. They left the room from the subject. He hurried him from together, and not long afterwards she business to pleasure, and from pleasure was led to the foot of the cross, having to business, with strong hopes that his been first awakened by her partner's serious impressions might be driven prayer on the ball-room floor. They away, or, at least, that he might be pre- were soon married, and are still living, vented making any public profession of active, devoted members of the body of the change of his views. But all these Christ. B- is an elder in one of the efforts were vain. The Spirit of God churches near the city of New York. had laid hold on his soul, and did not desert him. He was brought to the dust in submission, and found peace in believing in Christ. 31. THEY DEADEN NATURAL SENSIBILITY. (a) A CORPSE CARRIED TO A BALL-A writer in the "New-York Observer," states that in the place where he resided, in 1840, there was a New Year ball. Invitations were widely extended, and a great gathering of the young, gay, and thoughtless, was anticipated. Notwithstanding the intense cold, many came from a great distance in the country round. There was one couple that set out for the ball, with merry hearts, to ride some twenty miles. The lady was young and gay, and her charms of youth and beauty were never About this time a splendid ball was got up, with every possible attempt at display, and the youth of the village, and surrounding country, were all excitement for the festive hall. B was invited; he at once declined attending; but his father insisted that he should go. Here was a struggle for the young convert. On the one hand were the convictions of his own conscience, as well as the desires of his heart. On the other, the command of a father whom he was still bound to obey. The strug-lovelier than when dressed for that New gle was long and anxious. At length it was decided he determined to go. His father rejoiced at his decision; his friends congratulated him on having abandoned his new notions and become a man again. The evening at last arrived. The gay party were gathered in the spacious hall. There was beauty, and wealth, and fashion. The world was Year ball. Clad too thinly, of course, for the season, and especially for that dreadful day, she had not gone far before she complained of being cold, very cold; but their anxiety to reach the end of the ride in time to be present at the opening of the dance, induced them to hurry on without stopping by the way. Not long after this complaining, she said she felt perfectly comfortable, was now quite warm, and that there was no necessity of delay on her account. They reached at length the house where the company was gathering; the young man jumped from the sleigh, and extended his hand to assist her out; but she did not offer hers. He spoke to her, but she answered not. She was dead-stone dead-frozen stiff-a corpse on the way to a ball! But the most shocking part of the tale remains to be told. THE BALL WENT ON!-The dance was as gay, and the music as merry, as if death had never come to their door. (d) DANCING DURING A MASSACRE.-The tragical scenes which came under Mr. Fisk's observation while in Greece, had become so common, that they began to be regarded with indifference by many classes of people. Parties of pleasure and vain amusements were revived and engaged in, as though all were peace. Thousands had fled for their lives, and the streets of Smyrna were crimsoned with Grecian blood. It is estimated that 2,000 had been massacred, and heavy exactions of money were demanded of others for the privilege of living. The bodies of the slain were frequently seen floating in the bay. In a word, exactions, imprisonment, or death, met the defenceless Greeks in every direction:-and yet, strange to tell, multitudes, only because they were better protected from Turkish violence, went thoughtlessly to the assembly-room and the dance, as though all were peace and security. While the countenance of many gathered blackness through fear, that of others exhibited only the expression of a thoughtless, ill-timed levity. (b) THE CARD-PLAYERS AND THEIR DEAD COMPANION.During the progress of a ball in one of the towns of New Hampshire, four of the young men retired to play cards. While at their game, one of their number fell down in a fit end expired; but the others rolled his dead body under the table, covered it up with cloaks, and said nothing about it till the ball was over. How do such amusements petrify the better feelings, and make man's heart more hard than that of some of the brutes! for some of the brutes would (e) DANCING OVER A FLOOD. have shown more sympathy for a dying-During the month of December, 1847, companion than was exhibited in the case before us. (c) DEATH BUT NO ADJOURNMENT.-A writer in the "New York Observer" says, "In the village in which I lived for many years, there was a ball but a few steps from my house, and one of the young ladies who was to be there died suddenly on the very day of the ball. It was proposed by one of the managers to postpone the dance; but the others would not consent; and on it went, although the corpse lay directly in front of the ball-room, and the dim light in the room where it lay could be seen by every dancer, and the sound of the music and dancing disturbed the melancholy watchers." Who can doubt that such amusements blunt the finer sentiments of our nature, and weaken even the bumane feelings of their votaries, to say nothing of their irreligious character and tendency? Congress will adjourn at the announcement of the death of one of their number; but a similar announcement procures not the adjournment of a ball. In the in the great rise of the Ohio river, a 32. THEY PREVENT CONVERSION AND RUIN THE SOUL. (a) THE INQUIRY MEETING AND THE BALL-ROOM.-A most interesting work of grace once occurred in the Houston-street Presbyterian church of the city of New York. Many anxiously inquired what they should do to be saved: and many made choice of that good part which shall never be taken from them. Among the number who sought the instruction and prayers of the people of God, was the young lady who is the subject of the following sketch. She listened to the voice of truth, and was troubled. Conscience spoke within her, and would not be utterly silenced. She felt that the claims of God must be met, that she must not delay the work of her salvation. Personally and solemnly was she urged to settle the controversy, to renounce the pleasures of sin, and trust in the merits of a crucified Saviour. She knew her duty, but she did it not. The next night the "Boz Ball" was to be held, and from this scene of awful solemnity, away she hurries to the chamber of mirth, and joins in the giddy dance. By the sound of the viol and the voice of melody she aims to drown the admonitions of conscience, and she may have succeeded for the moment. Amid the display of fashion, the glare of lights, and the intoxication of the scene, conscience may have slumbered at her post, and suffered the gay transgressor to revel undisturbedly in forbidden pleasure. But she only seemed to sleep. The voice of admonition and warning came-it came, though the voice of the living preacher was silent. Again she felt, and again is she seen in the meeting for conversation and prayer. Her heart is the seat of ten thousand painful and conflicting emotions. The claims of truth and of duty are urged. She would yield, she would follow Jesus, but the world-the theatre-the ballroom-her gay companions-how can she give them up? Unfortunately she was solicited to attend another ball. Satan, as an angel of light, sheds a deceptive radiance over that scene, and suggests that such amusements are innocent, that her seriousness is melancholy, that there is time enough yet. She triumphed over conscience, yielded to the temptation, and went. She was permitted to return to her dwelling, but only to die; to die, too, as she had lived, without God or hope. Mark the facts that fill the last page of her history. On one evening she is in the meeting for inquiry; the next in the ball-room, gayest among the gay; and almost the next in her coffin! One week, with a heart as light as air, she goes to a store to purchase some trimmings for a ball dress; on the next, her friends go to the same store to purchase her shroud! Thus ended the career of one who loved pleasure more than she loved God. There was no hope in her death!— no light to cheer her in the last sad hour! (b) LOSING THE SOUL FOR A BALL.-I was once called (says a venerable clergyman in B- -), to visit a young lady, who was said to be in despair. She had, at some time previous, been serious, and had, it was hoped, resolutely set her face Zionward. In an evil hour some of her former associates, gay, pleasure-loving young ladies, called on her to accompany them to a ball. She refused to go. The occasion, the company, the parade and gaiety were all utterly dissonant with her present feelings. With characteristic levity and thoughtlessness they urged her, ridiculed her "Methodism," railed at the cant and hypocrisy of her spiritual guides; and finally, they so far prevailed, that, with a desperate effort to shake off her convictions and regain her former carnal security, she exclaimed, Well, I will go, if I am damned for it." 66 The God took her at her word. blessed Spirit immediately withdrew his influences, and instead of the anxious sigh and longing desire to be freed from the body of sin and death, succeeded by turns the calmness and horrors of despair. The wretched victim knew that the Spirit had taken his final leave; no compunctions for sin, no tears of penitence, no inquiries after God, no eager seeking of the "place where Christians love to meet," now occupied the tedious hours. Instead of the bloom and freshness of health, there came the paleness and haggardness of decay. The wan and sunken cheek, the ghastly glaring eye, the emaciated limb, the sure precursors of approaching dissolution, were there. The caresses of friends, the suggestions of affection, all were unheeded. The consolations of piety, the last resource of the miserable, were to her but the bitterness of death. In this state of mind, I was called to visit her. When I entered the room where she was, and beheld her pale and emaciated, and reflected that the ravages of her form without but faintly shadowed forth the wreck and desolation within, I was almost overpowered. Never had I concrived so vivid an idea of the woe and misery of those who have "quenched the Spirit." I proposed prayer. The word threw her into an agony. She utterly refused. No entreaties of friends, no arguments drawn from the love of God or from the freeness and fulness of atoning blood, could prevail to shake her resolution. I left her without having been able to find an avenue to her heart, or to dart a ray of comfort into her dark bosom. Never shall I forget the dreadfal expression of that ghastly countenance-the tones of that despairing voice. The impression is as vivid as hough it had been but yesterday. O that all the young, gay, thoughtless ones, who stifle the convictions of conscience, and repress the rising sigh, who dance along on the brink of utter reprobation and despair, would read and lay to heart the warning which the last hours and death of this young lady are calculated so forcibly to make. for a splendid ball. The poor widow shuddered as she witnessed the progress of this much-dreaded evil: to complete her uneasiness, a brother of her husband, a man of the world, visiting in the family, declared that he would be at the expense of equipping her daughter as his own child, and that she should eclipse all the women of rank and fashion in the ball-room. (c) THE FATAL BALL. - The subject of the following narrative was the idolized daughter of a gay and worldly father, who, in spite of the tears and expostulations of a pious mother, to whom such an act seemed little short of sacrilege, led her to the altar of worldly folly the village dancingschool. She soon excelled all competitors, and was considered the unrivalled belle. At this crisis her father died, and she lent a willing ear to the explana ions of Divine truth from her mother, which satisfied her understanding and filed her heart with pure and holy emotions. She was on the point of making a public profession of her faith in Christ, when the village in which she lived was agitated with preparations The poor girl was at first unwilling to lend an ear to these follies; but she had always delighted in dancing, and on this occasion suffered her better judgment to be overruled. “It is but for once, mother," said she, "and to please my uncle-nay, to avoid giving him incurable offence. Believe me, I shall not suffer my head to be turned by one night of gaiety. Pray for me, mother, that this compliance with the will of my father's brother may not produce evit consequences." child," said the distressed mother, "I dare not so word my supplication. It is in compliance with your own will that you thus venture on the tempter's ground, and this open act of disobedience to your heavenly Father; I cannot lend my aid to excuse or extenuate your guilt. I have prayed, I will still pray, that you may not venture further in this matter; but if you do, the responsibility must rest with yourself." My But, mother, the Scriptures say themselves, there is a time to dance.'" "So they say, in the same place, there is a time to make war, and a time to hate. The wise man means, that all sins and follies will have their seasons; but he does not therefore advocate sin and folly. Oh, beware, my child, and let the same Scriptures teach you that he who hardeneth his neck under reproof shall be destroyed, and that suddenly.' These are fearful words for us to part with, my child. Oh, heed my reproof, and do not harden your neck!" "Mother," said the perplexed girl, “I have promised my uncle to go to this unlucky ball, and I cannot break my promise without incurring his resentment. He has been so kind, that it would be ungrateful to thwart him in this trifle.” "Oh, my daughter," said the widow, holding her hands to her ears, "let me not hear you use such awful language! |