people will kick you out and go comfortably to hell by the road they please! Serpents and vipers indeed they are, and like me, their master, have covered themselves with a thin veneer of hypocritical respectability. Hypocritical am I, not for shame of my character, for I glory in it, but because, appearing as an angel of light, I may make the ways of sin and disobedience seem pleasant and desirable to these weakly, simpering sons of men. Hypocritical are they, because half ashamed of me and troubled with lingering thoughts of 'ought' and 'ought not.' 'Tis well: he who hesitates is lost, and if I mistake not He whom I crucified on Golgotha said: 'He that is not with Me is against Me.' Are they with Him? Oh! ye angels of hell, witness the noble works they do for me! How bravely do they steal, and lie, and cheat! What pride and lust inflame them! How gloriously do they drive the widow and the orphan, the sick and the wretched, to avenues of despair which lead to hell! Gluttons and bibbers of this world, mine you are! And yet, I'll linger in

these parts; for sweet it is to be in hell on earth. Stay I will, and hear the pastor's sermon, and witness the discomfiture of Gabriel, my old time friend."

God's day came on, and found John Newland ready for the task. He stood before the people with no outward sign of the slumbering fire within. But with the announcement of the text, he seemed like one possessed with the spirit of an old time prophet, warning the people of Sodom and Gomorrah of impending doom. The most indifferent in the House of God became attentive; the meek and inoffensive man was gone, and in his place stood rebuke and fearlessness erect. No introduction gave he to his theme. As drowning men wait not on courtesy, so John Newland wasted no moment with honeyed preparation for his message. Pride and selfishness, sin of flesh and sin of intellect, were held up naked to the gaze; the charnel house of hypocritical respectability was opened, and forthwith issued from the whited sepulchres the long procession of dead men's bones, with

all uncleanness. In these mirrors, men and women saw themselves reflected, and the truth and ugliness of the scene caused them to shudder.

Chuckling in a corner, sat Beelzebub, well pleased with what he saw. Curiosity, surprise, indignation, hate, horror, took possession of the people. All this the preacher saw, but it only increased the rapidity of his utterance and the cleaving power of his words. No love of God, no tenderness of Jesus, no pleading of the Holy Spirit marked his discourse. The awfulness of sin, and its bitter denunciation alone were heard. But when the preacher had reached the height at which his message was complete, he paused a moment, with awful emphasis, and then exclaimed:

"Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell? How, indeed, save through Him whose Name you profess, but whom you deride, insult and crucify each day by your meanness, your pride, your selfishness and sin? Even now,

He might save you from the damnation of a Godless eternity!"

This closed the service, no offering, hymn or benediction followed; by one impulse, all left the church; the signs of deep emotion were seen on every face, yet each spoke in whispers. Moved by conviction, each wilful sinner said to his own soul:

"The words are true, I am a sinner, and, what is worse, a hypocrite."

Moved by pride, each said to the other: "The pastor was unwise to-day, things are not as bad as he paints them; scolding never saved a soul."

Dinner followed, and with lighter conversation the nightmare of the morning began to pass away. A busy afternoon was it with the devil, flying from house to house, dulling the memory of awakened conscience, and nursing the indignation of half-converted men and women. The work was easy to be done; and ere the second service of the day, a protest with names of more than half the congregation was prepared, and with it a demand that

more.

Pastor Newland should minister to them no The church was full; the pompous officers, cowards at heart, were ready for their work; vain and malicious women were waiting for their sweet revenge. He for whom they waited came not.

At that moment, the soldier of the cross was dead. His wife a widow, his children fatherless; the flock freed forever from his earthly ministrations. God's heavy hand had fallen; a noble man must die, before a people could be awakened from their lethargy of sin. How silently went the people from the church! He was dead! No angel was he, but a plain, good man, who felt for others' woes, and cried out against unrighteousness. Their hearts were yet redeemable. The seed of penitence, sown in the early morn, was springing up at eventide. So soon! even while the valiant messenger of truth lay silent in their midst. Why goes the devil yonder, skulking like a murderer at night? Has darkness any fellowship with light? See! at the pastor's head stands Gabriel,