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porary pleasure of doing a good deed, which brings its own reward, is a greater thing with him than the slow accumulation of small sums, which would, in due time, amount to a fortune. He likes the good will, and derives pleasure from the good wishes of his fellow-men; but, depend upon it, his want of religion does not make him generous, no more than the orthodoxy of the grocer's creed makes him sand his sugar."

"Thank you," said Sinclair; "but I don't think Scales much of a Christian, and I believe Thompson is very near one of the right sort."

"Then, thank you," said I, "for you have strengthened my argument greatly."

My companion looked at me in silence for some time, as if something pressed for utterance which he did not like to say. I thought there was agitation from some cause in his breast. After a time he said—

"I have only known you, Sir, for some twenty-four hours, and the commencement of our acquaintance was somewhat singular. Yet I dreamed about you during the night, and I feel drawn towards you by some mysterious influence. I dreamed that you had something very important to tell me, and that it effected a strange change in my thoughts and habits. What can all this mean?"

"I do not know, Mr. Sinclair," I replied; "but if it is in my power to do you any good, I shall be but too happy, as you have been very kind to me, an entire stranger."

"No," he said, "I believe I am, or soon shall be, the obliged party. My eyes were fixed on you as soon as you entered Nichols's office. I heard what he said to you, and had great difficulty in restraining myself from rushing into the room, and knocking him down. I saw your agitation, and followed you to the street, where I watched you until I thought you had recovered sufficient strength to be able to speak with me. From your

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THE EVENING WALK.

manner and conversation, I conclude that you know far more than I do about something which greatly troubles me."

"What is it, my friend?"
"May I trust you?"
"Certainly."

"Will you not despise me?"
"No."

Well," said he, lowering his voice to a whisper, and casting his eyes towards the ground, "I am very unhappy. I am not a Christian. I cannot believe the Bible, and yet I feel that I am a great sinner against God. What shall I do? Pity me!"

Tears filled the speaker's eyes as he spoke. I was deeply moved. I had longed to preach the gospel. Here was an unlooked-for opportunity, and a ready ear. My heart was drawn towards the young man. He was evidently sincere, even to the extent of mental agony. To despair of doing good in this case, if the proper course were adopted, would have been folly and unbelief. I breathed a desire for aid into that ear which needs no human words. We spent the whole evening together, walking about the majestic sides of Arthur's Seat, and talking on subjects to which angels might have listened, and doubtless did listen, for "there is joy in heaven among the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth ;" and, three months afterwards, Frederick Sinclair was admitted a member of a Christian church. He is still a cheerful and consistent disciple of the great Saviour, and we have the mutual pleasure of occasionally exchanging letters.

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To enter minutely into the experience of three years would be a wearisome task to the writer, and a cruel exaction on the patience of the reader. At the end of six months, during which I had occasional employment, sometimes as clerk, and sometimes as accountant, and

frequent experience of dire poverty, I was seized with typhus fever, which was so severe for several days that the physician who attended me gave up the case as hopeless. I trace my recovery, under God's blessing, to the more than motherly care of the Christian woman with whom I then lodged, in Nicolson Street. This good lady, whose disinterested care I shall never forget, and which I traced to her genuine piety, for which she was remarkable, persevered in her attentions even after the medical adviser had assured her that death was certain. I was quite delirious for six days. On one occasion, Mrs. Golding had left the room in which I lay for a few minutes, and when she returned I was trying to open the window, not knowing what I did, but evidently with the intention of leaping out. The precaution of nailing it had been taken by the advice. of the doctor, so that my madness failed to accomplish the fatal purpose. My head was twice shaved during the continuance of the fever. On the second occasion I was sufficiently collected to know what the barber was about, and I remember distinctly that he was an extremely garrulous person. I also recollect Mrs. Golding's kindness in reading to me soothing passages of Scripture and hymns, when the crisis had passed. But the first intelligence I received, after that event, was that my kind mother was no more. This painful news checked the progress of recovery for some time. Extreme debility and sleepless nights followed this severe attack for several weeks; and one fine afternoon I walked slowly to Arthur's Seat, in the hope that the exercise and the air would benefit me. Instead of keeping the winding footpath around the hill, I ventured on the rash experiment of climbing its precipitate side. My foot slipped, I fell, and rolled to the bottom. I was not injured, but severely shaken by the fall. I found my way back to my lodgings, and lay in a state of exhaustion for several days.

Mrs. Golding entered my room on one of those days, saying that a lady and gentleman from Leith had called to see me. My memory had been weakened by the fever, and it was some minutes before I could make out from the name who they were. Mr. and Mrs. Langfield, at whose house I had been an occasional visitor, had heard of my illness, and had come up to Edinburgh to inquire after my health; but, more than that, Mr. Langfield had also heard of a situation which he thought I could fill with advantage both to myself and the firm. This agreeable intelligence had a very beneficial effect on my health, and my strength rapidly returned. In another week I was able to remove and enter on my new duties; but I was pale, and, as my head had been shaved, I wore a little cap, so that I looked ten years older than I really was at the time. On examining the state of my affairs, which was easily done, I found, to my dismay, that I was several pounds in debt. Doctor's bill, nurse's charge, and lodgings, looked in my face, and, if possible, I became paler than before. The situation on which I had entered, however, was the only permanent one that had yet presented itself; and as the salary, fifty pounds for the first year, with the promise of an annual addition, was quite a fortune in my estimation, I resolved that the debt should be quickly liquidated. No very long time elapsed before I was enabled to carry this resolution into effect. Would that I had been as faithful to other good resolutions! It would have saved me some heart-aches, and more rapidly advanced my highest interests.

Previous to my illness, I had united myself with a Christian church in Edinburgh, which enjoyed at that time the ministrations of an eminent scholar and theologian. I had become a Sunday-school teacherhad been brought into contact with several earnestminded men-had frequently addressed the childrenand had twice or thrice spoken at public meetings. At

this time the celebrated "Voluntary Church Controversy" was agitating all Scotland. Dissent on the one hand, and Churchism on the other, were engaged, like two powerful armies, in a pitched battle. The thing became a mental epidemic. High and low, rich and poor, the divine with half a dozen diplomas and the bricklayer's labourer, were all hot with the conflict. Cities and villages wafted the war-cry, and mountains and valleys prolonged its echo. Public meetings, with their "resolutions;" soirées, with their after-tea witticisms; and discussions, with their exhibitions of intellectual gladiatorship, were held. Newspapers were filled with correspondence; pamphlets, good, bad, and indifferent, fell upon the country like showers of snowflakes; large volumes issued from the press, much to the advantage of paper-makers and printers; regular periodicals, such as "The Voluntary," and "The Churchman," made their appearance, with their varied contents of argument, exposition, denunciation, attack, defence, and drollery; the pulpit, so far from escaping the contagion, helped to diffuse it; and perhaps it is no exaggeration to say that there were few families, over the length and breadth of Scotland, in which it was not the every-day topic of discussion for a long period. That there were numerous personal alienations, separations between friends, fomentations of dislike, heart-burnings, and evil surmisings, in consequence of this famous agitation, need not surprise any one who is acquainted with the workings of human hearts, and the limited and partial view which the multitude generally take, even of questions of world-wide interest. To keep a great question within its proper province, and to discuss it on its own merits, require a degree of perspicacity and of self-command to which very few men can lay claim. That there were some, on both sides of this question, who really did this, is matter of history-and the fact is honourable to them;