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throning popery in Ireland. This, unquestionably, is what we have now in prospect: and never was wisdom more needed, than among the servants of Christ at this juncture. I am very anxious to see a spirit of prayer poured out, as well in England as here, in reference to the approaching conference of the perplexed Protestants in Dublin: but alas ! so coldly do we now look upon that cause for which our forefathers deemed it all joy to suffer the most fiery persecutions, the most cruel deaths, that many of your readers might denounce, as uncalled for, an article directing their attention to the point. Still you must attend to it: you must clear your own soul in the matter, and be pure from the blood of your Irish brethren.'

Here ends my uncle's letter, as far as this subject is concerned: and I am too conscious of its importance to introduce any other. I know something of the doctrines of popery; and something of its spirit; and it has always been to me inexplicable that the successors of those men who compiled our liturgy, and officiated in our infant church, should so completely have lost sight of their leading characteristic. If I had disengaged myself from the folds of an envenomed serpent, and succeeded in throwing it to the earth, I should scarcely think myself at liberty to sit down within its reach, or justified in allowing my neighbours and children to approach it, unconscious of its venomous properties. How, then, is it, that the Church of England-of whose deliverance from the murderous grasp of popery the foregoing is a very faint type-can remain so reckless of her own peril, a

1, and that of all around her, while the serpent is evidently gaining new strength daily, and preparing to coil, with a more deadly grasp than ever, around the prey that formerly escaped it? We often hear a preacher, faithfully setting before us not only the light, but its opposing darkness; and shewing, in bold, scriptural terms, how fatally opposed to the vital truth of God's word are the tenets of the Roman Catholic Religion. What is the general reception given to this style of preaching? Is it not often an expression of regret that Mr. So and So, should be so fond of controversy—that he should go out of his way to attack another religion with which we have nothing to do- and that he should judge harshly concerning those who conscientiously follow their own judgment, no less than we do? No marvel that God sends a scourge to remind us how sorely we dishonour Him, in thus lightly regarding the existence, yea, daily increase, of a most foully idolatrous worship in the midst of us. While we manifest so little zeal for the purity of his name and service, can we expect that he will stretch forth his right hand to be our defence against all our enemies? Is it a small thing with us, that whole families, whole villages of Protestant brethren should be going into exile every season, to a far distant and inhospitable region, only because they cannot feel their lives secure from popish violence, under a Protestant government, and within the pale of an established Protestant church? Surely, surely these things ought to be looked into; not with the eye of curiosity, or of idle compassion only; but with a strong sense, that in these, his poor members, we are allowing Christ to be persecuted, to be banished, and to enter a dreadful memorial against us for so doing.

In Portugal, an unexpected blow has been dealt against the papal power, and we may anticipate the rousing of the old lion in his ancient den, to fulminate some decree against the daring invader of his cherished rights, in a country so long prostrate at his feet. Should Don Pedro persevere, should it indeed be put into his heart to “ hate the whore, and make her desolate,” we shall witness scenes ere long, calculated to startle us from our unnatural lethargy. Spain is anxiously struggling to repair the darling yoke, and to revet it anew upon her neck. England, is extending the right hand of fellowship, with every possible demonstration of affectionate courtesy, to the insidious fue; and Ireland is about to be delivered up, a costly victim, into the very fangs of unmasked popery. May it please the Lord to awaken us all, to see the peril of our own condition; and enable us to give, at least, the aid of our prayers, to those who are making a stand against that which is not yet quite at our doors; but, which will, assuredly, grow and expand like the flame, in proportion to the amount of what we throw into it.

Female influence may be overrated sometimes ; but in this case we do not give it a fair trial. Assuredly, we have strong encouragement to put forth some energy on behalf of suffering Protestantism in our sister island, when looking on the glorious and happy issue vouchsafed to the persevering labour of a few years, in the course of negro emancipation. The work is the Lord's—peculiarly his; and if we be found willing, he will glorify his own power in our weakness, by rescuing our menaced sister from the destruction of her church, and the hopeless scattering of her devoted children.





AFTER a long struggle against the prevailing inclination, I have resolved to gratify it, even at the hazard of being brought in guilty of a flagrant departure from the verity of my title. Fruit does not legitimately come under the head of flowers : true, but flowers that herald not some species of fruit are comparatively of little worth. In short, I would rather, for once, plead guilty to the charge of inconsistency, than deprive myself of the delight with which I constantly dwell on an image so nationally precious, that the reader who falls out with me for bringing it before her, must seek her place beyond the circle of, at least, English Christian ladies.

The vine, the fruitful vine, that spreads its luxuriant foliage, and throws out its wiry tendrils, and hangs forth its clusters to the mellowing sunbeams, will not be passed by, at this season of sweet recollections. It brings before me, in most vivid portraiture, a scene never to be forgotten; nor ever to be recalled without a glow of heart, which, to be sure, I cannot hope to communicate to my readers, though most of them will be able to conceive how little peril I am in of overstating the matter, when they have the particulars, which I will faithfully relate.

It was on a very bright and gladsome morning that I set out, accompanied by my own, my precious brother, and his little girl, and my dumb boy, on an excursion fraught with very delightful anticipations. We reached the end of our journey, and were ushered into a room well furnished with books, adorned with tasteful prints, and wearing the aspect, yea, breathing the very soul of elegant retirement, hallowed into something far beyond the reach of this world's elegancies. At the further end of the apartment was a recess, almost of sufficient size to be called an additional room, thrown boldly forward beyond the line of the building, and forming, in four compartments, one large semi-circular window, scarcely a pane of which was unadorned by some stray leaf or tendril of the vine that rested its swelling bunches in profusion against the glass. Beyond, the eye might find much of sylvan beauty whereon to rest: but, to me, no attraction lay beyond it; for, in the light and cheerful little sanctuary, there sate a lady, whose snow-white locks “ a crown of glory” shaded, or rather brightened, a countenance so beaming with love, that the sentiment of reverential humility was at once absorbed in that of endeared fellowship with one who evidently sought no homage, nor claimed superiority over the lowliest of her Saviour's followers.

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