they were in the right way, or had acquired any Christian grace, of which they had no further evidence, perhaps, than that of talking fluently respecting it.

In pursuance of this her general system, she determined to bring Constantia's religion, as soon as possible, to the proof; and in order without difficulty to introduce the subject she wished to converse upon, she requested her daughter to bring Gilpin's edition of the The Pilgrim's Progress, observing that it was a book she much loved, and which she wished to go through again with her young people on a Sunday evening.

The book was produced and begun; and Constantia, availing herself of a pause in the reading, took the opportunity of letting Mrs. Garston know that she had often read it, and could give an account of every part of it.

"I am glad to hear," said Mrs. Garston, "that your studies have been so well directed, Miss Constantia, and as you know the value of the book, you will have additional pleasure in hearing it again: but probably you have never read it with the view in reference to which I have now selected it. The Pilgrim's Progress must not be considered as a mere allegory or pleasing story, but as a mirror, in which every Christian, or every one desiring to be a Christian, may see his own case. When I read this book, I often stop to consider, Where in the course of this Christian progress am I? Is my situation a safe one? have I escaped such and such snares? have I reached such and such stages in my way to the Celestial City? have I ever been in the right way? or am I at this time a wanderer from it? I would now have you, my dear young friend," continued Mrs. Garston, "after reading this book, to ask yourself this question-In what part of the pilgrim's course do I find myself at this day?"

"I am afraid, not in a very good place," answered Constantia, half laughing.

Mrs. Garston and her daughter looked seriously, but their gravity had no power to check the rising levity of Constantia: for this young creature was at this time precisely in that state of mind, which rendered it of very lit

tle consequence to her whether she were considered as an object of praise or blame, so as she might but be brought forward into notice. For excessive vanity is above all minor considerations, and is capable of deriving nourishment from every thing except that kind of neglect which is evidently unstudied.

But to return to Constantia, who, unawed by the grave looks of her companions, continued to smile and repeat her remark-"I am afraid I am not in a good place, at least not a very good one:" adding, "What do you think of the town of Vanity, Miss Garston; do you think that situation will suit me?"

"I certainly think," replied Mrs. Garston, "that you have not made your escape from that place of trial, Miss Constantia, or you would not speak with so much levity on such important subjects. But I have no reason to suppose that you have entered it as a pilgrim and stranger upon earth, or that you feel and loathe its vanities, with a real desire to be set free from them: this I cannot as yet think. There is much, very much, for the Christian to pass through before he arrives at this state. Remember that the City of Destruction is the birth-place and dwelling-place of every child of Adam, and that conviction of sin is the first evidence which the sinner gives of his conversion. For this therefore we must examine ourselves, and seriously inquire-Have we as yet felt the burden of our sins? and is it a sore burden too heavy for us to bear?" (Psalm lxxxviii. 4.)

Constantia looked a little confused; but, recovering immediately, she said, "I know that I am a sinner.”

"You know that you must confess yourself to be a sinner," replied Mrs. Garston," and you have been taught to do so, as it were by rote: but the difference is very great between a mere languid assent to any doctrine, and a strong sense or feeling of it. For instance: I now see a man walking on the other side of the garden rails. My reason tells me, and my knowledge of the state of mankind on earth leads me at once to believe, without doubt or hesitation, that yonder man is a sinner. But this bare assurance, although strong enough not to admit of being controverted, excites in me no feelings of horror at the

state of that individual. I do not shudder at his sinfulness; I do not loathe his depravity; nor is any particular anxiety excited in me to procure him relief."

"No," said Constantia, "because you know nothing more of him but that, as he is a man, he must be a sinner."

"Well, but," said Mrs. Garston, "suppose any one should tell me, in general terms, that the man was a bad father, a bad husband, a thief, a liar, a man in short who lived in the breach of all God's commandments: what then would my feelings towards him be? Would they be the same as they now are?"

"No," said Constantia, "assuredly not: you would feel what you now do not-you would look at him with dread and dislike."

"Well," said Mrs. Garston, "we will further add, suppose my informer were to enter into the particulars of this man's character as far as the human eye can see it, explaining to me how he used his wife, how he injured his children, how he indulged himself, what gross language he used, with other minute and hateful particulars of his conduct; how would my feelings towards him then be excited?"

"Of course," replied Constantia, "your disgust and horror would be greatly increased; the very name of the man would become odious to you."

"We will now go one step further," said Mrs. Garston. "Suppose it were possible that all the secret motions of sin, the horrible and unclean thoughts and propensities of this sinner's heart, without cloak or disguise, could be laid open and spread before me; what effect would all this produce upon my feelings?"

"O," said Constantia, "why you would hate and loathe the man more than a serpent."

"Do you not now perceive," replied Mrs. Garston, "that, between a bare assent to the general idea that such a one is a sinner and a particular acquaintance with his corruptions, there is a prodigious difference? The one excites no distinct feeling; it is a mere assent to a general proposition: the other produces a strong and lively emotion, which, if not tempered by Christian charity, would lead one to wish that society could be freed

from the pestilential presence of such a being. But mingling with these feelings of disgust that Christian charity which cannot but desire that no soul should be lost; what sort of emotions would then be excited towards the man?"

"Why," replied Constantia, "Christian charity would, of course, lead you to do what you could for the reformation of the man."

"If the man," replied Mrs. Garston, were not only unconnected with me, but an absolute stranger to me, I should perhaps be satisfied with a feeble effort to do something for him: I might use such means for his help as immediately presented themselves, such as sending him a book, speaking in his behalf to the minister of the parish, &c. &c. and if I did not succeed in my endeavours, I should probably sit down contented, and think no more about him. For such is the narrowness of the most enlarged human mind, and so bounded are our powers, that the best of us is disposed to make but very slight exertions in such cases. But suppose I were to discover that this man-this great sinner-was a beloved brother or son, reared in my arms, and dear to my heart as my own flesh and blood; what then would be my feelings and my conduct?"

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Why," said Constantia, "you would pray for him, shed tears for him, talk to him, read to him, entreat others to do the same, and spend your money for him; in short, you would leave nothing undone to bring him into the right way."

"And now," said Mrs. Garston, "to go one step further, and I have done. Were you brought to the conviction that this great sinner was not a brother, a husband, or a son, but your own self, and that you yourself were in the road to everlasting destruction; what would your feelings then be? Very different, I imagine, Constantia, to what they were when, with a countenance totally unmoved, you just now asserted that you knew yourself to be a sinner."

Constantia made no answer, and Mrs. Garston added, "If you have not yet felt conviction of sin, you cannot have seen the need of a Saviour: we may therefore venture to say, that although you may be enabled to speak

something on religious subjects, from having frequently heard such matters discussed; it is nevertheless very certain that you have not even begun your Christian course. Therefore let me entreat you, my beloved child, not to deceive yourself, and never to speak further on these important points, than your experience will enable you to do."

Here Mrs. Garston broke off the conversation, and Constantia sat awhile meditating on what she had heard, which Mrs. Garston was not displeased to observe.

The next morning after breakfast, Miss Garston being set down to her usual employments, Mrs. Garston called for Constantia's books, and examined her with respect to her acquirements. She found that her mind was far from being uncultivated, for indeed it was not easy for the giddiest and most selfish of young persons to live many years with such a woman as Honoria, without acquiring some refined and elegant ideas, unless in case of such natural incapacity, as could by no means be imputed to Constantia.

Mrs. Garston, however, perceived that Constantia had no habits of application, and that there was a degree of carelessness and absence about her, which could proceed only from a mind in great disorder. Having, however, as far as she could in so short a time, measured the abilities and powers of Constantia, making every allowance for bad habits long indulged, Mrs. Garston set her young pupil certain tasks, which she informed her were to be punctually executed before the next day's dinner hour. Mrs. Garston then occupied herself with the affairs of her family for some hours. After which, they all walked out together, till dinner-time; making, as usual, their hours of exercise profitable to some poor family. The evening was, according to custom, spent in reading, music, and needle-work. Thus passed the day; during which, Miss Garston more than once privately reminded Constantia of her allotted tasks: advising her to employ a due portion of her time in accomplishing them, and assuring her that her mother would certainly require them to be perfected.

Constantia, however, took no notice of these hints: for, to say the truth, she had from the first, determined