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Mr. J knelt down and prayed, but his importunity merely served to invest the pang of despair with an additional degree of terror.-"All is useless, Sir, The help of men and angels join'd

Can never reach my case.'

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"That's true, my dear young friend, but" "Pardon me, Sir, for interrupting you, but I dare not ask for mercy. Justice demands a victim, and I must die." "But mercy pleads." Yes, Sir, but she will never plead for me." "Do try to pray." "No, Sir, I am not disposed to offer a fresh insult to God. He has rejected me.

• Contrition cannot crime remove;
Should I implore his pity then,
The soft compassion of his love

Would still condemn.'"

"But the blood of the covenant can remove crime." "That blood I have trampled beneath my feet. I know my doom." Mr. J. now left him, but

called again the next evening, when he found him rather better, and more composed, and was gratified to hear that he had written the following letter to his mother.

"Dear Mother;

"I am sorry to inform you, that I am rather indisposed, and that I am obliged to leave London for a change of air. You may, therefore, expect to see me in the course of a few days. O pray for me, for the hand of God has touched me. I shall come by the mail which will pass through your village about eleven in the morning.

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In the next Number will be given an account of his visit and the result.

J. Hill, Printer, 32, Water Lane, Blackfriars.

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PRINTED FOR FRANCIS WESTLEY, 10, STATIONERS' COURT, AND AVE-MARIA-LANE.

WIDOW'S SON RECLAIMED.

"These are thy glorious works, eternal truth,
The scoff of withered age and beardless youth.
These move the censure and the illiberal grin
Of fools, that hate thee and delight in sin;
But these shall last when night has quench'd the pole,
And heaven is all departed as a scroll." COWPER.

THE moral influence of truth on the mind is very powerful; but such is the extreme degeneracy of our nature, that it sometimes breaks through every restraint in seeking the indulgence of its appetites and its passions. Hence the youth who has been trained up in "the fear of the Lord," no sooner finds himself removed from under the watchful eye of parental solicitude, than he yields to the resistless charms of the world, and launches forth amidst scenes of dissipation and vice. Here he lives and moves in an element that is congenial to his native taste; and though he is occasionally disturbed by some compunctious visitation, yet he passes on, contemning his early religious impressions, and treating with profane levity those momentous truths which once overawed and animated his breast. But can he proceed without meeting with some formidable resistance? Can he forget that the piercing eye of God follows him through all the windings and doublings of his history? Can he shake off the dread of futurity, and bid his dark forebodings cease? No; conscience stands in his way, and disputes his passage, by turning against him the sword of truth, which often inflicts a wound too deep, even for intemperance to heal. He sighs for peace, but peace retires; for, there is no peace to the wicked.

To indulge the hope of reclaiming such a youth by the mere force of terror or persuasion would be a visionary prospect; yet, Have we never seen the prodigal return?-Have we never heard the parent say, For this my son was dead, but is alive again; he was lost, but is found?"

George Lewellin left London a few days after he had communicated the state of his health to his mother, and he reached home the following morning. She

saw him as he was opening the little wicket-gate in the front of her house; she sprang up, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. The interview was affecting; and it was some minutes before either of them could speak. On raising her eyes to survey the lovely form of her only son, now emaciated by disease, she could not refrain from exclaiming, as she pressed him still closer to her warm, yet agonized bosom, "O George, what's the matter?-How long have you been ill?-Why did you conceal your illness from me?" "Be composed, mother; I am better; and I have no doubt but relaxation from business, and the fresh air of the country, will be the means of bringing me about again. The porter is waiting with my luggage; I will thank you to satisfy him for his trouble, as I have no change."

During the first week after his arrival, he began to mend; and all indulged the hope of his speedy restoration; but his disease had taken too deep root in his constitution to be suddenly eradicated; and within the space of a fortnight his fever returned with increasing violence, setting at defiance the skill of the physician, who confessed that his life was in the most imminent danger. He now took to his bed, and said to a young friend who called to see him: "I shall never leave this room till I am carried out by the ministers of death." On the following sabbath, his dear mother ventured to ask him how he felt in prospect of death. This question deeply agitated his feelings; he became restless; a sullen gloom was thrown over his countenance; he remained silent. This silence inflicted a deeper wound in her tender bosom than the most piercing cries of mental anguish; and though she endeavoured to conceal her grief, yet she was unable. "O George, do tell me. When I lost your father, I had the consolation of knowing that he was gone to heaven; and your dear departed sister said, just before she left me,Weep not for me; for I shall soon see the King in his beauty; and will you die without allowing me to indulge the hope of meeting you in heaven? My dear mother, I have deceived you once, but the staff of deception is now broken ;— have trampled under foot the blood of the covenant,'

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and that blood is now crying for vengeance against me. I know my doom; and, however painful it may be to your feelings to stand at the dreadful post of observation, and see your own child lingering out the few remaining days of his life,

'Without one cheerful beam of hope,

Or spark of glimmʼring day :'

yet I do request, that you will not embitter my last
hours, by making any allusions to the Redeemer."
"O George!"' "O mother, I am undone!-Mer-
cy followed me; mercy pleaded with me ;—and
injur'd Mercy will appear;

Nor I her charges can disown.
Ah me! than justice more severe
-Is Mercy's frown.""

As his mind was in such a perturbed state, `Mrs. L. thought it prudent to turn the current of conversation; and, after listening to a detailed account of his life, she retired to try the efficacy of prayer. In the evening, a pious young friend called to see him, to whom he said, "I will thank you to remove that Bible out of my sight, for its very presence affects me. Such a book ought not to lay near such a wretch. It is like compelling the criminal to ride on his own coffin to the place of execution." "But, my dear Sir, that book contains a revelation of mercy and grace to sinners, and offers salvation to the chief." "I know it, and therefore I wish it to be removed;for I have turned the grace of God into lasciviousness, and made sport with the revelation of mercy." "But the Lord waits to be gracious." "No; he is now laughing at my calamity; and soon the curtain of life will drop, and his injured justice will be glorified in my condemnation. Give me a draught of water." He drank the whole in haste; and, on giving back the "It would afford me some relief if I could cup said, hope to find a spring of water in hell. But, no; not one drop to cool my parched tongue!" "O George, do not put from you the words of peace." "The words of peace, to my soul, are like the dragon's sting; and the voice of mercy is more awful than the footsteps of vengeance. I know my doom; and if you wish me to have a moment's calm while the respite

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