THE BYSTANDER.

DEAR MADAM,

ALMOST every body thinks he knows some one thing, at least, better than any body else. If he have made no new discovery, nor solved any problem that has hitherto baffled the skill of mankind, he imagines that he has a deeper impression of some admitted truth, or sees farther into certain matters, than his neighbours. Now in this respect I resemble the rest of the world: I think I see many things that other people appear not to see; or if they see them, they must be less deeply impressed by them than I am; otherwise they would speak out, and reprove; and there would surely be some amendment of what was generally complained of.

I have long felt that desire to communicate my light to others, which rages like an epidemic in the present day; but serious obstacles have presented themselves. I am acquainted with several authors; and they all tell me it is very dangerous to transmute gold into printed sheets; because it is by no means certain that the letter-press will ever resolve itself into gold again. I have, therefore, quite abandoned the ambitious project of publishing a volume; and must relinquish the hope of seeing my name in capital letters amongst the advertisements of new books. But if I might occasionally be permitted the honor of a little corner of your excellent Magazine, I should

feel consoled for this privation; and might thus enjoy the luxury of doing good, without the remotest dan. ger of blushing to find it fame.'

Before, however, I can expect that you will grant me this favour, I must give you some account of myself. I belong to a class of persons which the avarice of the old, and the love of vain show in the young, have of late greatly increased in this kingdom; a class often useful, and seldom duly appreciated; a class too generally pitied without tenderness, and despised without cause; in short, to avoid farther periphrases, I am an elderly single gentlewoman. I fear I am not quite such a useful member of society as many of the sisterhood; but for this I am disposed, like many others, rather to blame my circumstances than myself. I was an only child; my mother was the same; and my father was the only member of his family who reached maturity. I have thus no near relatives, and I am not rich enough to induce second and third cousins to keep up acquaintance with me, I have therefore no aged aunt to nurse, nor youthful niece to educate; and at one period of my life time hung heavy on my hands. So long as I sought happiness in this world, so long as I looked forward with anxious expectation that each coming year would make some important change in my outward circumstances, and thus bring me that rest and enjoyment which I had not within my own breast, I was unhappy and discontented. But when I had found the true philosopher's stone, which turns all things to gold; even that precious Corner Stone, which is rejected by all who seek to build their happiness on earthly things; my whole condition was changed; every thing seemed to smile around me, and I felt

like one who, in the depth of poverty, has suddenly found an inexhaustible treasure. Formerly I used to think it a hard matter to be only a bystander in the busy theatre of human life; to watch the eager pursuits of those around me, to hear the sound of others' mirth, to look on and see others happy. But I have now learnt to " rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep ;" and instead of envying the happiness of others, I earnestly desire to see all others as happy as myself. Since my adoption into the family of God, I no longer feel friendless and alone; I have "brothers, and sisters, and mothers;" yea, I may add, sons and daughters too; for there are many dear children, both rich and poor, in whom I take somewhat of maternal interest.

My home is in a country village; but as I have there no duties that demand constant attention, I spend much of my time in visiting my friends. I am truly thankful that I am a general favorite among them; and am not only invited on all great family occasions, such as a marriage; but in many families, if the children are expected home from school, or indulged with a holiday excursion, the party is reckoned incomplete unless Aunt Patty (as I am universally called) be there. Yet I disclaim the use of all unworthy acts to obtain popularity; I neither carry about news for the old, nor sugar-plums for the young. How I succeed without these adjuncts I may perhaps relate at some future time, if you kindly grant me permission to appear in your pages occasionally.

In my intercourse with others, I am often led to observe the truth of the old adage, that the bystander sees more of the game than those who play. Many

a time I foresee consequences for which the busy actors are little prepared; and I think I can often perceive the true motive of an action, which the performers imagine to proceed from one very different. The blindness of passion, the obstinacy of prejudice, and the selfishness of the human heart in its various manifestations, are objects of frequent and painful contemplation to me; for which I am only compensated, when I am enabled to benefit others by the results of my experience. It is with this view that I solicit the liberty of occupying now and then a little of your readers' time; and in the hope of a favourable reply, I remain, dear Madam,

Yours most truly,

MARTHA MARKWELL.

THE SPIRIT'S CALL TO THE MINISTRY.

(From Sacred Pneumatology.)

But here an important question arises;-What is the Spirit's call to the ministry, and how may it be known? Now as I take for granted the reality of the Spirit's operation upon the human mind, I would define this call to be, a fixed and constraining preference of the mind for the work of the ministry, before all other occupations. I define it fixed, in opposition to those transient and temporary inclinations which some feel for the office of the ministry, and which soon expire when difficulties oppose their admission to it; and I add, a constraining preference to shew, that he, to whom this call is given, must and will preach the gospel of Christ. He who is called by the Spirit, and to whom is committed the word of reconciliation, is like Jeremiah, who said, "I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name. But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire, shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay." Such an one does not enter into the office of the ministry from the expectation of preferment, the love of literary pursuits, the dignity of an honourable profession or the gratification of personal vanity or distinction ; but he enters upon it that he may serve God for the promoting of his glory, and the edifying of his people."

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