will of his companions, but he seldom gave God the glory, or thought of His approval. Alas! honour is but an imperfect principle of action, a poor substitute for religion. The same boy who would scorn to deceive his equal, because such conduct was deemed dishonourable, would have little scruple in cheating his master, because such deceit would be laughed at and applauded. And school-boy honour is an exact type of honour amongst men. Like the Lesbian rule, which suits itself to the inequalities of that which it measures, so honour is a shifting, variable, uncertain principle, which, if, in some cases, it may lead to noble actions, yet is consistent in others with every degree of pride and selfishness.

Arthur, in due time, removed from school to college, where he was warmly greeted by a host of friends. Having been an universal favourite at school, his former associates, who had entered the university before him, were eager to welcome him to their society; and through their means he was soon introduced to all the leading men of his standing, and became as popular at college as he had been at school. His pursuits and occupations were only extended to a wider field. First in every scheme of pleasure, still he was

not backward in his studies; for reading was the fashion of the day, and to be the leader in the boat-race and cricket-match, it was not necessary, at least for one of his talent, to be unprepared for the lecture or the public examination.

In short, Arthur Ridley was pursuing just such a course as the world would most applaud, and many fond parents would most desire for their sons. He was forming intimacies with the most distinguished of his contemporaries, men who would afterwards fill the highest posts; and was himself acquiring knowledge in an honourable competition with his equals.

Bright, however, as were his worldly prospects, he was, all the while, drifting farther from godliness. The pious feelings of early childhood were fast disappearing from his soul; the humble teachableness of Christian faith was gone. He lacked the one thing needful. And this without those evident signs which too generally accompany the want of religion. For Arthur, though gay and thoughtless, was not yet vicious or profligate. Avowed irreligion and open scoffing are not the vices of the society in which he lived; nor, if they had been, would he have joined in them. He still maintained a decent reverence for holy things,

and the deep impression, made on his early youth, of the all-seeing eye of an infinitely pure and holy God preserved him from wilfully rushing into gross and profligate vice. In a word, religion might be said to be in abeyance with him. The scales of good and evil seemed to be equally balanced; and a decided change might soon be expected.

It will be observed generally, that there is a peculiar providence over the children of good men. The seeds sown in childhood, though they may often remain dormant, nay almost appear extinct, yet will again revive and bring forth fruit; and so is fulfilled the promise contained in the second commandment, of God's blessing to many generations of the righteous. Arthur Ridley was saved from ruin by the allmerciful hand of Providence. Like the prodigal in the parable, "he came to himself." But his was not the remorse of the soul which has been enslaved to guilty pleasure; it was not the sickness of heart of one who, like Childe Harold, had

"Felt the fulness of satiety."

When wilful sin and presumptuous infraction of God's laws have once become habitual, the

struggle is fearful and protracted, and too often unavailing. The deeply-corrupted heart, unable to bring itself to repentance, takes refuge in a secret infidelity, or in the vague hope of some future day of penitence, never, alas! to be realized. But in the case of Arthur Ridley, it was the grace of God arousing holier feelings within him,-feelings which, though long chilled by early mixture with the world, had never been entirely extinct.

There were many circumstances which contributed to force Ridley's mind to serious reflection. His tutor was an excellent and earnestminded Christian, who took pains to instruct his pupils in God's truth, and endeavoured to make his divinity-lecture, not an occasion only for construing the Greek Testament, and learning the necessary doctrines and historical facts of Scripture, but subservient also to the practical and reverential knowledge of God's word. This was the first impulse to his dormant piety, and the mind of Ridley, thus quickened, soon began to feed on the nourishment presented to it. Many objects which continually met his view harmonized with the reviving recollection of his early childhood. Often would he gaze on the venerable piles which surrounded him, and re

vere the piety of our forefathers who had reared them for the religious instruction of the youth of England. And he would ask himself whether he was imbibing that heavenly wisdom which was to be the guide of his after-life, and the basis of his eternal destiny. Often, when he listened to the solemn service in the ancient chapel of his college, would he lament that it roused not in his soul thoughts more worthy of its solemnity; and he would feel a sad impression, that in neglecting to cultivate the holy sentiments which every thing around was so well calculated to inspire, he, and too many of his companions, were wasting opportunities of spiritual improvement, which perhaps could never be recalled. Ridley commenced a punctual attendance at the university sermons, and derived much benefit from what he heard. When the preacher's theme was some deep and difficult point of Christian theology, he would admire that so much talent, which would have secured the foremost place in any department of life, was employed to explore the depths of sacred learning. He would discern that the religion of the cross was of that wondrous nature, that, while its plain precepts and principles are open to the lowliest understanding, there is that in it