pression of spirits, or loss of appetite, or distressing sleepiness, or loss of strength, or colds, or coughs, or cholic, or anxious and tormenting pain in my stomach. But since I reduced myself to a plainer and more frugal way of living, these things have gradually passed away. Ten years ago my health was so precarious, that it was much doubted whether I should ever be able to go through the common labours of a preacher's life; at present the usual labours of a preacher's life are not one third of my work, and there are no signs that my frame is giving way. Not five years ago, I was pronounced to be in danger of consumption, but the adoption of a more temperate way of living has removed every symptom of an inclination to consumption. The improvement that has taken place in my health alone is a tenfold compensation for the sacrifice of every luxury. Those who have not been afflicted are not able to judge of the difference between health and sickness. They do not understand the value of health. But those who have spent years in weakness and languishing, sometimes bowed down with pain, and at other times sinking into nervous despondency, can understand that health is one of the first of all earthly blessings. I was years and scarce ever enjoyed health for a week at a time, but now I have been years and have scarcely tasted of the sorrows of sickness.

I have a better appetite for my food than I used to have. I am always ready for my meals, and if the provision be wholesome, I always eat it with pleasure. I have more pleasure now in eating a dinner of herbs, than I formerly had in feasting on the richest delicacies. Bread and water would be more grateful to me at present, than the richest things that could be prepared would have been ten years ago. I have more pleasure in drinking

than I used to have. No man can tell the worth of a glass of pure water, but he that has used water as his drink for a term of years. It would not be seemly for me to dwell on the pleasures of eating and drinking, but I must say, that no one enjoys his meat and his drink so much, as he who eats and drinks according to the strictest rules of temperance. Many things which I used

to take were very expensive, and the thought that I was costing so much in meat and drink and clothes, while so many of my fellow men were in want, was a frequent cause of pain to my mind. I used to think of the poor hand-loom weaver, of the agricultural labourer, of slaves abroad, and wretched sufferers at home, and my conscience troubled me. I seemed as if I was eating my brother's bread, and drinking his children's livelihood. But my conscience is at rest now. I eat and drink in temperance, and I know that God will not frown on me for that. I eat and drink for strength and service, only that I may be able to help and bless my brethren, and serve the cause of God; and this thought makes my food the sweeter. My brother is better for what I eat and drink, and so are his helpless children. I take no more than my share, and I take that, that I may be the better able to lessen my brother's sorrows, and contribute to his joy.

When I lived more luxuriously I had less money with which to do good. I not only took richer things at other people's houses, but I wanted them at home. Thus, twenty pounds a year would go for vanity. I have that twenty pounds a year now for better purposes. I have money to publish a book; I have money to assist in works of charity. The talent that was once perverted is now employed in trading for God, and for the good of mankind.

When I indulged in luxuries, I could not reprove the extravagance and selfishness of others. If they were ten times worse than I was, I could not speak to them, or if I did speak, my word did little good. My conscience told me I was in the same condemnation, and I could not speak with authority.

If I drank wine, I could not reprove the spirit drinker. If I took tobacco, I could not with confidence reprove the man that took ale. To be a useful reprover, a man should not only not be so bad as the person whom he reproves, but he should be blameless in that particular to which his reproof refers. He that plays at chess must not reprove him that plays at cards. The man to reprove

the gambler, is he who is free from the sin of gambling in every form. Now I can reprove without shrinking and without fear. I am not afraid to speak against the love of fashions and display. I am not afraid to censure the sensual customs of the times. I dare call people to their duty to one another. I can plead the cause of the poor, of the ignorant, and the heathen, without self-condemnation. And I have reason to believe that my preaching on those subjects has been much more useful since I entered on a temperate way of life, than ever it was before.

And this has led to another pleasure, as great as any that I have yet mentioned. I have seen intemperate habits and customs give way among Christians. A temperate way of living is becoming much more common among professors. Parties are falling into disrepute ; intoxicating drinks are becoming quite disgraceful; fine clothes begin to fit less comfortably; and rings and brooches and artificial flowers are exhibited with less ostentation. Fine houses and gardens do not call forth so many compliments as formerly. The rich carpets, the splendid furniture, the massy bed-posts, the costly hangings, are looked at with less admiration. Men and women are beginning to be ashamed of praising those toys, and some are so much changed, that they look on them with sadness, and speak of them with sighs. Sometimes calculations are made how many Bibles might have been purchased by the money spent on a set of chimney ornaments; or how many missionaries might be sent forth by the money uselessly spent in one family. The conversation in social meetings now turns on those matters, and the subject of domestic economy is discussed in the midst of splendours and luxuries. These things render the pleasures of intemperance less, and often turn them into gall; while to me they are the occasion of new delight. I see in them the signs of better times, when churches will become truly Christian, and follow their self-denying Lord, and imitate his beneficent career. Nay, many are already beginning to turn their superfluous expenses into channels of piety and charity; and the funds

of benevolent and pious institutions are receiving more copious supplies. Single individuals are building chapels and schools, instead of building themselves larger houses; and instead of wasting their incomes in pampering the flesh and destroying their families, they are spending them in employing missionaries to instruct and bless the ignorant and the poor. I know happy examples of this kind, and the number of such characters will shortly be increased tenfold.

Another advantage I have reaped from temperance, is a better knowledge of Christianity. While I served the flesh, my spirit was blinded; but the mortification of the flesh has made me see. Many practical points which were wrapped in mystery, are now made plain as the light of

heaven.

It has greatly increased the pleasures of reading and writing, and conversation and devotion. I enjoy every thing better since I freed myself from so many selfish and hurtful habits. My mind is more wakeful, and my spirits are more gay. My temper is more even, and my affections better disciplined. I can read and write much more, and with much greater pleasure. I feel myself more able to do good, and much more happy in all benevolent employments. What I have taken from the body has been added to my mind more than a hundred times over. I feel more independent, I feel more free. I am less anxious about money, and less afraid of want. While I indulged the flesh, every habit of self-gratification seemed to be like a cord fastened to the ground, to keep me from rising upward; temperance has cut the cords, and, like a balloon when freed from its holdings, my spirit mounts upwards as on the wings of eagles, and delights itself in intercourse with God and with the eternal world. And I can therefore recommend temperance to others with the greatest confidence. You are mistaken, my young friends, if you fancy that the happiness or enjoyment of life consists in the abundance of fleshly and selfish gratifications. The most luxurious are the most wretched. Intemperance in every form is productive of many and grievous torments. And he that

uses wealth for his own gratification, will find his riches turned into a curse. They will plague him through life, and they will drown him in perdition in the world to

come.

My young friends, be not anxious about wealth, and be not anxious about the flesh. Be temperate in all things. Use nothing that is hurtful, however pleasant; use nothing that is useless, however common. Especially waste no money in luxuries. It is plain food that supports and strengthens the body, and it is a temperate use of it that is most conducive both to a long and pleasant life. Do not seek after pleasures, and pleasures will never be far off. Live to please God, and to serve mankind, and you will soon find out in what consists the true blessedness of life. You will then understand those two beautiful and wonderful sayings of the Saviour,-" My meat and drink is to do the will of my Father, and to finish his work;" and "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Doing good is the best enjoyment of life, and temperance is the best introduction and help to a life of well doing. Spare from the flesh, that you may spend on the spirit; and ever remember, that then do you best secure and most promote the joy of your own soul, when you do most and suffer most for the souls of your fellow men. Selfishness is always a curse, and charity is every way a blessing." God is love," and then do we enjoy most of the happiness of God and heaven, when we are most like God in love.

FIGHTING IN THE DARK.

A FRIEND has just sent me a request to go and spend a few hours with him, in the company of a few other friends, to discuss with him the subject of free-will. Now it so happens that I do not understend what free-will means, and I have therefore written to say, that I must beg leave either to decline the invitation, or have the meaning of free-will explained to me. What good could I do, disputing in the dark? I have just been looking at Johnson, and I see he says, that free-will means "the power

of