DEVICES OF THE ENEMY.

-BUT the greatest difficulty in contending with popery, is, its extreme adaption to the corruption of our fallen nature. It has that wherewith it can meet every desire of the natural man, and soothe every anxiety about the soul; for the literate it has prodigious stores of learning; for the illiterate it has its images, pomps, and shews; for the self-righteous, it has its innumerable ways of external service; for the most devout it has its unceasing prayers; for the musician, it has the most exquisite chants and anthems; for the painter the most splendid efforts of human art; for the imaginative, all the visions of fancy, its gloomy cloisters, lights, and processions, and incense, and beautiful churches with painted windows; and priests with splendid garments and varied dresses. To quiet the conscience, it has doctrines of human merit and works of supererogation; to alarm the indifferent it has fears of purgatory; to raise the priesthood, they can make a little flour and water into a god, and will themselves worship what they make. To give ease to the conscience of the man of the world, and the lover of pleasure, each sin has its indulgence and penance. All men at times are under fears of God's wrath; their conscience is touched, they are in anxiety, and at such times popery comes in and gives them a sop, that satisfies for the moment, and

sends them into the sleep of death. It covers every lust, it calms every fear. It is the devil's cunning device of twelve hundred years growth for leading countless myriads to perdition. Let us not be ignorant of his devices.

Such are our difficulties from without, in contending with popery. The difficulties FROM WITHIN are principally what have been noticed as the causes of the growth of popery. Of these the chief is Cor rupted Protestantism. Though there has been an extended revival of real religion, we have very far fallen from our original standing as Protestants. Was the church of England, everywhere, in its ministry, as clear in preaching the glorious gospel of the grace of God, as it is in its articles, prayerbook, and homilies, and the writings of its first reformers were we raised above the world and sensitive of the glory of God and the purity of his truth as they were-had we that remarkable spirit of faith, realising God's love and rejoicing in him, which he gave to them-were salvation by grace our theme, as it was theirs-then our chief internal difficulties would be surmounted; but it is far otherwise. We have got deeply seated in our very principles of modern theology-that bitter root of popery, salvation by works; we are greatly secularized and settled in worldly habits; we have fiercely contended among ourselves about minor points; we have forgotten the state of the church of Christ as a despised, suffering, afflicted state, and that the portion of God's elect is bearing the cross now, that we may wear the crown hereafter. The providence of God seems likely speedily to awaken us effectually out of this day-dream of worldly prosperity;

and, as usual, the cross is coming to prove and to manifest the truth of the revival which God has also mercifully given. — Bickersteth on the Progress of Popery.

SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS, in one shape or other, is commonly connected with all our spiritual darkness and distress. We will be looking for something in ourselves to warrant our laying hold of Christ. We cannot be persuaded to put ourselves, just as we are, into the hands of the Great Physician, that He may magnify His wisdom, power, and mercy, in healing and saving so vile and wretched sinners. I know of nothing to meet this disposition, so deeply rooted in our proud and foolish hearts, but a deep and thorough consideration of the true nature of the Gospel, as a remedy, devised and offered of God Himself, for all our sins, pollutions, wants, and miseries, requiring nothing but what it first offers and bestows.-Thelwall's Thoughts in Affliction.

MADAM,

A REMONSTRANCE.

THE remarks of your plain-dealing correspondent R. H. I have led me to consider whether I might not pursue a little farther the subject touched on by her. I mean, consideration for the peculiar circumstances of those with whom we have to do.

There is a class of people for whom I feel strongly : such as are led, not only by inclination but necessity to devote their time and talents to literary pursuits. When their labours are blessed to the profit of others, Christian good-will induces a feeling that may, on short acquaintance, ripen into strong personal regard : and the way in which this regard is manifested, we usually find to be an earnest request to enjoy the epistolary correspondence of the individual.

Now, to a person capable of affectionate and grateful attachment what a trial is here! To you it cannot but be known how severe is the run, so to speak, on the intellectual faculties of one who must, perforce, fulfil a certain task, where the mind is unavoidably kept on the stretch, and the imagination in full activity, while the body is debarred from its due portion of wholesome exercise, and protracted sedentary occupation induces a state of the nervous system the most ruinous to health-most destructive to personal comfort-most certain both to embitter and to shorten life. Nature, reason, inclination, all second

the strong, the unanimous command of every professional adviser, that such persons should use each possible interval, to snatch the bracing, the medicinal, the exquisitely refreshing cordial of out-door exercise. The over-wrought mind, the aching eye, the wearied hand, the cramped joint, all unite in this urgent appeal. And, let me ask, is it not demanding too much of those whose best hours are all devoted to the service of the public, that they should pass upon themselves such a cruel sentence of prolonged imprisonment, and forego the very necessaries of life, in order to gratify the inconsiderate, though most kindly meant requests of others, who know nothing themselves of the drudgery of writing-who have but to open a desk, pen a letter, and be at liberty for the rest of their summer's day?

But, I have been asked, Are authors then to be excluded from all the sweets of private intercourse with absent friends? Are they to be so banished into the world, as to lose the dearest privileges of retirement? Oh, no. In cases where the individual is not compelled to labour, my argument falls to the ground: and in those where she is, how inexpressibly cheering it would be to receive, from time to time, sweet words of sympathy, of consolation, of encouragement, even of general intelligence concerning the absent, with that noble, disinterested adjunct, Do not write to me in return.' I have sometimes thought that the poor drudge who conscientiously endeavours to please and benefit all, might almost establish a right to such remuneration from some: but we are too apt to fancy that pounds, shillings, and pence will repay bodily, mental, and spiritual labour; and for that more precious coin, the soothing language