your relatives and companions are deposited. A short time since, they were as gay and sportive as yourself, and were cheered with the prospect of a long succession of years, but now they are cold and lifeless, for they are numbered with the dead. And is not your life equally uncertain? Like the interesting subject of this memoir, you may be called to appear before the "judgment scat," in a sudden and unexpected manner. Are you at home? There the hand of death may seize you, in an hour when you look not for him. Are you at School, pursuing the acquisition of knowledge, and anticipating the return of the recess, when you expect to see the face of your Father? this fond enjoyment you may not realize:

"Alas! nor Parents more may you behold,

Nor friends, nor sacred home."

Are you prepared for your departure? Could you, like the lovely Emma, take leave of your relatives, without a sigh, and expire without a groan?

At the thought of dying you tremble? Why? Is it nature, paying an involuntary tribute to the value of that life which necessity compels her to resign? or is it the voice of conscience,

reminding you of your impenitence and danger?
And will you hazard your eternal felicity, on the
precarious uncertainty of future years? Sup-
pose, that before the projected period arrive,
you should be placed before the "dread tribu-
nal," what excuse will you be able to advance,
to justify or extenuate your conduct?
Can you,
like the untutored savage, plead ignorance?
No. Like the man who appeared at the feast,
"without the wedding garment," you will remain
"speechless," till forced to retire, when you
will through eternity deplore the infatuation
which prevented you from embracing the present,
as the "accepted time," the day of salvation.

"Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal Precedent will plead ;
Thus on, 'till Wisdom is push'd out of Life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves

The vast concerns of an eternal scene."

LETTER II.

IF the objections which are sometimes advanced to deter you from becoming decidedly pious while young, appear to be destitute of force, and you are impressed with the immense importance of the subject, it will be necessary for you to reflect, that your attention must be habitual to produce any advantageous results. The religious impressions of many, though deep, are often obliterated without effecting any material change. A storm of anguish arises within, which in the moment of apparent danger, compels them to cry for deliverance, but when its violence is abated, their terror subsides, and they fall back into their former state of insensibility. They feel acutely, but not permanently. They run to the sanctuary, not as to a place of devotion, but refuge; not to present their offerings of praise on the Altar, but to seize its projecting horns; not to commune with the Saviour,

"As friend communicates with friend,”

but to induce him to protect them from the avenging arm of divine Justice. They know that religion is the "one thing needful,” but they prefor the amusements of the world, and sometimes

regret the impossibility of enjoying the consolations of Religion amidst the various recreations to which their prevailing dispositions incline them. Formally to renounce its claims, and relinquish the hope of immortality which it has faintly inspired in their breast, requires a sceptical energy which they do not possess, but to yield to its controuling influence, and regulate the whole of their conduct by its sacred precepts, demands a sacrifice of feeling, which they are not willing to make.

This is a species of religion which an elegant writer describes as, "Too sincere for hypocrisy, but too transient to be profitable; too superficial to reach the heart, too unproductive to proceed from it. It is slight, but not false. It has discernment enough to distinguish sin, but not firmness enough to oppose it: compunction sufficient to soften the heart, but not vigour sufficient to reform it. It laments when it does wrong, and performs all the functions of repentance of sin except forsaking it. It has every thing of devotion except the stability, and gives every thing to religion except the heart."

You must "follow on," if you wish "to know

* Miss Moore.

the Lord."

You must "abstain from the ap

pearance of evil;": watch without intermission; and "pray without ceasing." This sacred exercise is as essential to personal religion, as the foundation, which lies concealed from the eye of the spectator, is to the support of the edifice. Your numerous engagements and the frequent intrusions of your companions, during the short intervals of relaxation, may render you incapable of observing any particular hour of the day for the purpose of devotion, but you should embrace the earliest you can command; and if necessity oblige you to be short, you should guard against being formal. This exercise should be

preceded by reading a portion of the Scripture, or some other devotional book; which will imperceptibly compose the mind, and induce a class of feelings, bearing some resemblance to its holy

nature.

To prohibit you from enjoying the innocent recreations of your little lovely circle, is not my intention. They are proper for your health. They unbend the mind, which thus preserves its elasticity and gives a fuller tone to the animal spirits. 'Till your principles have received a fixed and unalterable tendency, the amusements of the school may appear more interesting than