or appropriating the tender reproof administered by Ezekiel to rebellious Judah, "Remember, and be confounded, and never open thy mouth any more because of thy shame ?" Here is the "Ideal of a Christian church,"-"That they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they all may be one in us." And here is the glorious climax, "That the world may believe that thou hast sent me!"

;

But what is the reality?-I, am of Paul; I, of Apollos; I, of Cephas; I bite; I devour; I impose burthens; I bind them, I build again the middle wall; and the world will not believe that He who came to be our Peace, is represented by so distracted and disjointed a family.

And now the reader sees, perhaps, what lies in the "Way to the Gift?" To the practical living-out of that one word in which the whole law finds its fulfilment: "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," he must see many and grievous obstacles: but, as yet we have not told him what the Gift is, and he cannot, therefore, know very clearly the best way to it. But having led him thus far, he must bear with us a little whilst we resume the narrative, which will sooner or later put him in possession of the secret. In the mean time, let each ask himself, "Is my religion, a religion for the great family of God in Christ-the one church which he hath purchased with his own blood?"

I reached home depressed and thoughtful, but my sadness had assumed a healthy form. I was humbled and prayerful, and my closet would have been the ark of my weaned spirit, after a kind word to my wife and little ones, had not the presence of a stranger in the hall delayed my purpose. It was the poor neighbour of Barbara Griffin, who had come over to tell me of her release to the home of that pure and loving Wisdom which would make us one in Jesus. I listened, not merely patiently but with deep interest, to her recital, and even the name of good Mr. Reynolds, dissenter though he was, awakened no heart-burnings, but those of sympathy and love. Indeed, so satisfied did I then feel of the purity and singleness of his works of faith and labors of love, that having made the necessary enquiries, I purposed inwardly to see and hear him for myself, and understand as I best might the machinery of a system which I had thought in my haste, unauthorized, and

even in some of its aspects dangerous and delusive. I had been "astonished" that dissenters should receive the Holy Ghost as well as we; and perhaps they had often returned the compliment. But I had now no wish to be a higher churchman than was Peter; and I felt the unction of his good confession, that as God had put no difference between them and us, it would ill become an erring and prejudiced brother to do so. And in this conviction I parted with my poor friend, and found repose in the bosom of my family.

The evening passed away without anything worthy of recording here; and a lovely morning broke upon us. But with it, I regret to say, my thoughts ran back into their old channel. I dwelt on the ignorance and presumption of Mr. Waddington; and told my wife, with some additions of my own, of all that passed at the Hill Mizar, and of my subsequent conversation with the major. The scandal, like an avalanche, gathered strength by progress, and I found the old root of bitterness springing up within. I had made up my mind over-night to become better acquainted with Mr. Reynolds, who was to hold that evening his usual service at a lone cottage near the hill-top that overlooks the little village, already spoken of, as the late dwelling-place of Barbara Griffin. During the day my mind had wavered on the subject, and as the hour drew near at which I was to leave home, I remained still undecided. I was arguing the matter with my wife till the moment at which I ought to have started on my errand, and might probably have let pass the opportunity but for a little incident.

All at once, though I had seen no one in the room but Mrs. Enderby, a strange voice called out, "What's o'clock ?" Startled as I was, my first movement was to laugh outright—so singularly apposite was the enquiry, and so querulous but dignified was the voice that asked it. The challenge was repeated; and I looked around and above me to solve the mystery. There was no living creature in the room, ourselves excepted, but the grey parrot I had received as a present from poor Bozwell. Its voice, I had never heard before, nor had I the remotest idea of its accomplishments in this respect. But there could be no mistake now; there it was, walking solemnly along its perch, beak, claws, and tail, all anxiously employed upon the task,

turning its head askance at intervals, and casting up its round bright eye, as it called out "What's o'clock? What's o'clock ?"

Our merriment was redoubled when we knew who our teacher was. I looked at my watch, and found I had no time to lose. "Well, Bishop," said I, for we had irreverently given him this name, “you preach well. I have heard many a sermon with less in it than yours." And bidding my wife a brief farewell, I was off without farther delay.

My walk was like any other walk in the country in summer time. All things were bright and balmy: the trees were heavy with foliage, and the sky clear and almost cloudless. The house where I was to meet Mr. Reynolds, stood near a bye-road, turning off by some old trees. Its situation was rather picturesque, and it had an air of much substantial comfort, though small and unpretending. The neighbouring cottagers were coming from their homes by twos and threes, some across the fields, but most along the road, to the number, perhaps, of not more than thirty or forty in all. That lane was a pretty sight just then. Nature, Sunshine, and Shadow, are the veritable "Three Graces;" and the living, moving, scenery, strengthened the cords of communion with the landscape. I felt conscious that my own heart was out of tune, but walked on to the place of meeting. Each of the good women dropped me a curtsey, and the men were not backward in their honest, but sometimes awkward, attempts to pay me the accustomed homage. Softened by these civilities, I walked in with them and took my place quietly, not, however, unobserved by Mr. Reynolds, who motioned me to take a chair beside him, which I declined with becoming suavity. Not satisfied, however, with this movement, he came towards me, and pressed me to take his office for the evening! My impression was, that he did not know me, as I never remembered to have seen him before; but he soon undeceived me, telling me that he had more than once heard me preach at Springclose!

I was wonderstruck. A dissenter, and one of whom I had thought so uncharitably, had actually worshipped with me in a "steeple house," as his less liberal brethren would have called it! But I was just as great an anomaly myself at the present

moment, mingling with the heterodox beneath an unconsecrated, and even an unlicensed roof. I was about to join in prayer and praise with those who, after the way that I called heresy, worshipped the God of our fathers, believing nevertheless all things which are written in the law and the prophets. And was this their only fault? I had merely the evidence of a case or two to guide me towards a decision, and as there were tares and wheat growing together in all sections of the church, I had no right to claim exemption for my own field of labor, especially whilst I had seen the weeds only, and not the good corn, in my neighbour's. Though, therefore, I declined the conduct of the meeting, I remained to join in it with a spirit somewhat softened and rendered teachable by the courtesies I had so little anticipated.

The room was large enough, but of low pitch: the windows were thrown back, and every thing breathed peace within doors and without, The opening prayer was offered, and it touched me by its fervor, its simplicity, and the noble catholicity that breathed throughout it. A hymn followed-melodious to the heart, if it wanted the graceful modulations of a tutored voice: the fire kindled within, and I felt I could have spoken— tongue and soul, to that community of fellow sinners, of the common salvation by the Saviour of the world. A short, but weighty and comprehensive exposition succeeded, every word of which seemed to make home at once to some one or other of my prejudices. There was an unction in that preaching I had seldom experienced in my own. I heard and felt for all. I could tell that it was doing good-in all honesty I confess that in my own case it was marrow to my bones. I rose from my knees after the concluding prayer, a wiser and a greater man -not greater in my own strength, but stronger in the grace which is in Christ Jesus.

Taking a cordial farewell of my new friend, and bidding him God speed, I walked homewards with a heart as tranquil as that happy summer evening, holding as I always do, communion with my own thoughts on such occasions. I coveted earnestly the gift of good Mr. Reynolds. It was manifestly a good gift, and such as I might well emulate. Perhaps it was that "best gift," the way to which I was so anxious to teach

others, though I then felt how lamentably ignorant I myself was respecting it.

And who can tell how much light the incidents of that evening may throw upon "The Way to the Gift ?"

(To be continued.)

H. R, E.

REV. JOHN WESLEY AND HIS LIKENESS.

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MR. DUDLEY was one evening taking tea with that eminent artist, Mr. Culy, when he asked him whether he had seen his gallery of busts. Mr. Dudley answering in the negative, and expressing a wish to be gratified with a sight of it, Mr. Culy conducted him thither, and after admiring the busts of the several great men of the day, he came to one which particularly attracted his notice, and on inquiry found it was the likeness of the Rev. John Wesley. "This bust," said Culy, "struck Lord Shelburne in the same manner it does you, and there is a remarkable fact connected with it, which, as I know you are fond of anecdotes, I will relate to you, precisely in the same manner and words that I did to him." My lord," said I, "perhaps you have heard of John Wesley, the founder of the Methodists ?" "Oh, yes,” he replied, "he—that race of fanatics!" Well, my lord; Mr. Wesley had often been urged to have his picture taken, but he always refused, alleging, as a reason, that he thought it nothing but vanity; indeed, so frequently had he been pressed on this point, that his friends were reluctantly compelled to give up the idea. One day he called on me on the business of our church. I began the old subject of entreating him to allow me to take off his likeness. Well," said I, "knowing you value money for the means of doing good, if you will grant my request, I will engage to give you ten guineas for the first ten minutes that you sit, and for every minute that exceeds that time you shall receive a guinea."

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"What!" said Mr. Wesley, "do I understand you aright, that you will give me ten guineas for having my picture taken? Well, I agree to it." He then stripped off his coat, and lay on the sofa, and in eight minutes I had the most perfect bust I had ever taken. He then washed his face, and I counted ten guineas into his hand.