imported,' though his neatness did not consist in his habiliments, which were reduced to a shirt and trowsers. He was about nineteen; and bore the character of unsophisticated simplicity which, alas! rarely outlives a very short sojourn on our side the channel.

In answer to our inquiries, he told us that he had been in England one fortnight: that he had brought over with him his fortune, consisting of five shillings, and a change of clothes; but that the expense had so far outgone his calculations, that he had been obliged, after parting with his money, and extra suit, to dispose of his hat, coat, and waiscoat. I do not suppose that stockings or shoes had formed any part of his wardrobe.

What made you leave your father's house, my lad?' asked my friend.

'Sure, and my father was dead, and my mother too, your honour, before I can remember. But, having got a good education, I thought I might make my fortune by coming over here.'

'Where did you get your education?'

'Oh, at a great many different schools, seeing that I was a travelling scholar.'

On being further questioned, he informed us that, having no relations, or friends to support him, and wishing to get some learning, he had been admitted as a temporary pupil, at the various hedge schools to which he rambled. That the poor scholars, who had friends residing near, took it by turns to give a day's meal and a night's lodging to their houseless school-mate; and when he had thus gone the round of one little establishment, he relieved them by proceeding to another. That he had spent about five

years in this way; and having hoarded up as many shillings, with a decent outfit, he had taken his passage for the English shore, with a vague idea of acquiring independence in this golden land. The tale was told with the artless naiveté that sets suspicion at defiance; and while he recounted, as a thing of course, his confident dependence, both for maintenance and education, on the unfailing hospitality of the poorest classes in Ireland, I dare say, I looked rather exultingly in the face of my incredulous friend-incredulous indeed, no longer: for the tear that glistened in his eye bespoke a secret selfreproach, for having failed to do justice to this beautiful feature in the national character of a people so grossly belied and undervalued, as the poor Irish.

We placed before the traveller-whose bodily refreshment had not been neglected-a Testament, to try his boasted scholarship; and he read with tolerable fluency the passages selected. The book was perfectly new to him: he asked many questions concerning it: and when its glorious truths were affectionately set before him, with a full personal application of all its tender invitations, its precious promises, the poor wanderer hung his head, and wept. He was then invited to pray with us; and very sweet the exercise appeared to his soul: the garments that he had lost were replaced by a youthful countryman, who fully comprehended the injunction to him that hath two coats, and steadily acted upon it. And when the traveller had received our little contributions-the most valuable of which was the volume so providentially introduced to him,-he clasped our hands, in all the warmth of grateful

nationality, invoked many a blessing on our heads, and pursued his road towards the great metropolis.

The incident, which I have given without the slightest deviation from strict truth, furnished us with matter for a long day's converse. My friend was uncommonly touched by it, declaring that the confirmation so singularly sent, when I was endeavouring to awaken his kind feelings towards a race too generally despised and vilified, appeared as an impressive call on him, to make their many wants a subject of his prayerful thoughts. The glimpse that he had enjoyed of one very loveable feature in their character, struck a kindred chord in his own benevolent heart; and truly the short remainder of his life was spent-that valuable life was ultimately sacrificed-in the work of ministering mercy among the poor perishing outcasts of hospitable, hapless Ireland.

C. H. R.

THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS.

JUSTIFICATION.

Ir has been a fruitful subject of theological discussion,-how mortal man may be just with God. Some persons have referred us herein to the law, and some to the gospel: some have imagined that we can have a righteousness of our own works, others have maintained that justification is the free gift of God through faith in Jesus Christ.

I shall, in this paper, allege some arguments in proof that we are not justified by works: I shall take another opportunity to show that faith only justifies.

It may be recollected, that, when speaking of the fallen state of man, I said that he was under condemnation. Now, if any one be equitably condemned, he must appeal to mercy not justice-he may desire pardon, he cannot hope for acquittal. And this must never be lost sight of, for it is the foundation of the argument, that God has to do not with innocent and perfect beings, who might challenge strict inquiry into their deeds and words and thoughts, but with malefactors accused by his law, and convicted by his just judgment. What plea of righteousness can an acknowledged felon resort to in stay of execution?

It may be thought that future good conduct can atone for or excuse a past misdeed, so that a balance, as it were, is struck between good actions and bad ac→ tions, and the man is accepted or rejected, according as the one or the other preponderate. But this is a

very erroneous notion. For it goes on the supposition, that a law will allow some breaches of it; and therefore will justify transgression. This is a contradiction. Transgression permitted is transgression no longer: sin so legalized is no more sinful. And if strict obedience were one day paid, it could not spread its virtue over any other day; for still we should be but unprofitable servants, and have done only our duty. We must do more than our duty at one time, to have any available excuse for neglecting it at another.

: But a discussion like this may well be spared by the consideration, that so far from having a fund of good works in store, no man can, before he is justified, do any one thing that is good. For a good work must flow from a right principle, and be directed to a proper end, else, even that which is abstractedly praiseworthy can gain no acceptance in the eye of God. For instance, almsgiving is in itself good, but it may proceed from ostentation, and a desire to exalt one's self, and then it must be abominable to him who declares that "the plowing of the wicked is sin." So that the question is, can there be any right principle in the heart of the man who is yet estranged from God-yet in his unjustified, condemned state? Can he seek the glory of God, or act from the constraining love of Jesus Christ? Surely not. And therefore he can do no good work. All his doings are nothing worth. "That which is of the flesh is flesh." They carry upon them the stamp of sin and condemnation. Hence works can bear no part in justification. And just as the fruit does not make the tree good, but is an evidence of its goodness, so good works cannot make a man