est in his welfare, abruptly asked him if he was not indisposed. The question perplexed him; but assuming his ordinary cheerfulness, he replied, "No, madam." He sat a little longer; when he took leave of the company, and retired to rest. There he saw the fatal book; but, as he stood musing, he said, "Well, I don't know that I have received any moral injury from the book, and perhaps my mother did wrong to press me to give her such a pledge."

On the next sabbath Mr. Gordon called on him in the afternoon, and asked him to accompany him to the Lock, where he was going to hear a celebrated preacher. He took an early cup of tea with - his friend, and they left together. As they were passing through St. James's Park, who should they meet but Mr. Phillips, (the other clerk in the office,) in company with three ladies. The interview ap peared accidental; and, as Mr. Phillips pressed his friends to do him and the ladies the honour of their company, politeness induced a compliance, and the whole party took an excursion on the water. They did not return till late; and it was past twelve before Lewellin reached his lodgings. As soon as he entered the parlour he made an apology for being so late; and to avoid being embarrassed by any questions, he took his candle, and retired to his own. room. He sat himself down; but the sight of the Bible, which lay on the table, roused his feelings, and he began to reproach himself in the bitterest terms. "Yes, a new scene is opening before me; but what a scene! No, I will break the charm before I am completely enslaved! My mother does not know it.- -But the eye of God.---I can not conceal myself from him. Woe is me. 1 am lost. I am undone. No. I will repent. I will ask for mercy." He threw himself on his bed, but he could not sleep. He was scared by the visions of the night, and when the light of the morning dawned, it brought no tidings of peace. At length he arose, and went to the office, where he met his companions in guilt, but his mind was too much des

pressed to allow him to be cheerful, and the refer ences which were made to the excursion of the preceding evening, aggravated his misery. When the business of the day was closed, he walked away in silent sadness; but he had not gone far, before Gordon overtook him, and invited him to take some refreshment in a coffee house. He strongly objected, and then consented. "I perceive," said Gordon, "that you are unhappy, and I guess the cause. You suffer your noble mind to be tortured by the tales of the nursery. Treat them with contempt." "No;" said Lewellin, "I am not tortured by the tales of the nursery, but by the reflections of a guilty conscience." "Conscience," said Gordon, smiling "I had such a thing once, but as it stood in the way of my peace, I got rid of it, and now I am happy. And I assure you, that you will never be fitted to enjoy life, till you form juster notions of the Deity than religion inspires, and open your heart to those sublime enjoyments which the society and amusements of this far-famed city afford. Come, give way to the impulse of your generous nature, and accompany me this evening." "Where?" "Where you

shall have a mental feast." Lewellin, expecting that Mr. Gordon was going to a Philosophical Society, of which he was a member, gave his consent; nor was he undeceived, till he found himself seated in a box at Drury Lane Theatre. His conscience smote him; but as he had been decoyed there, the faithful reprover was soon silenced, the curtain was drawn, and the stage exhibited a scene, which was not only new, but captivating. When the play was over, Gordon said; "I have watched your countenance during the whole of the tragedy, and I perceive that you have an instinctive taste for the drama. Yes, Lewellin, this is the school to exalt the genius and amend the beart. Here our manners are polished, our taste is refined, and those moral sentiments are inculcated, which make the man the gentleman."

They now retired to an hotel, where they ordered a supper, and as they sat conversing together till a

very late hour, they decided on sleeping there. The line was now passed, and Lewellin, having tasted of the forbidden fruit, resolved to rid himself of his puritanical notions (as he began to term his religious sentiments,) that he might enjoy life. The first step which he took, was to write a letter to his kind friend, Mr. J▬▬▬n, to say, that circumstances rendered it inconvenient for him to reside so far from the office, and therefore he was under the painful necessity of taking another set of rooms;he added, "I will call and settle with you, and I will thank you to send my dressing case, &c. by the . bearer." He then told his friend, Mr. Gordon, what he had done, who congratulated him on his courage, and assured him that he was welcome to an accommodation in his apartments, until he could suit himself better. The seducer had now got his victim in his own power, and he hurried him through the various stages of vice with almost breathless impetuosity. The theatre, the billiard-room, the house of ill-fame were alternately visited, and he, who a few months before was horror struck at the sight of a novel, could now occupy the seat of a scorner. But he was not suffered to remain there undisturbed. Conscience would sometimes inflict the most poignant wounds. The thought of home, of his pious father and sister, of the day of judgment, drove him at times almost frantic; when, after pronouncing a secrc curse on his companion, he would plunge himself deeper in iniquity, that he might gain a momentary relief. To follow him through the course of impiety which he ran for the space of two years, during which time he involved himself in debt, and contracted many diseases, would afford the reader no gratification. Disease, which had been for some time destroying his constitution, now incapacitated him for public business, and he was obliged to keep to his apartments, which were near those of Mr. Gordon's. For several days after his confinement, he received

no attention from his friend, which left his mind more disposed to take

"The black review."

He reproached himself;-he reproached the destroyer of his peace;--he wept, but he could not pray. He wrote a letter to his pious mother, but he burnt it, he wrote another, and burnt it. He wrote to his friend, Mr. J———, whom he had not seen since he left his house, and, just as he was directing it, the servant announced Mr. Gordon. "Well, George, how are you?" "Ill, Sir, and you are the cause of it." "I the cause of it!"

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"Yes, Sir, you enticed me from the paths of virtue, into the paths of vice, and though I reproach myself for my folly in surrendering myself to your intreaties, yet, Sir, you are the seducer." Ah, George, you are got back to the tales of the nursery. Come, come, pluck up your spirits. You will soon get better. What does the doctor say? I was at Drury last night, and never had a finer treat." doctor gives me but little hope, and your present conversation gives me less pleasure. If I die, I must appear before my Judge, and am I (wringing his hands) prepared? No." Well, then, I will be off, but don't play the fool, die like a man. Phillips says he'll call to see you to-morrow, but I suppose a visit from some of the godly will be more acceptable." "I want a visit from some one who can administer to a mind diseased."

He was now left alone, irresolute,-alarmed.— He rings." Put that letter in the post immediately.” Is more composed. Mr. J--- called on him the next morning, but could not refrain from weeping when he saw him. Lewellin cautiously concealed from him the cause of his illness, but informed him, that the doctor gave but little hope of his life. "Does your dear mother know how you are?”

see me.

No, Sir, I do not like to alarm her, but if I do not get better in a few days, I think I shall endeavour to go down and see her, and if I must die, I hope to die in her arms." "I have called several times at your office since you left my house, but you were either engaged, or not within, and I have often wondered why you never called to see us. We have always had you in remembrance at a throne of grace.' "Ah, Sir," replied Lewellin, "if I had never left your house, I should never have been reduced to that state of wretchedness and woe in which you now I was seduced by a worthless companion, and now (He made a long pause.) I have eut short my life; I have ruined my soul; I shall break my mother's heart. O eternity! how I dread thee." The tender feelings of Mr. J— were so strongly excited by the looks and the expressions of Lewellin, that he could make no reply for several minutes. At length he said,-" But the chief of sinners may obtain mercy." Yes, Sir, I know that the chief of sinners may obtain mercy, if they repent and believe; but I cannot do either. I hear a voice issuing from the celestial glory; • Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.' Prov. i. 24, 26, 27, and 28th verses. I have fitted myself for destruction, and now I must prepare to go where the worm dieth not, and where the fire will never be quenched." "Do not despair of mercy." Sir, I must. Despair gives me more relief than hope." "Shall I pray with you?" "It is too late.". Consent." "Then pray for my dear mother, pray that her mind may be prepared for the tremendous news which will soon reach her ears. have deceived her."

"Yes,

I