the servants of God, as their guardians, and bad angels around the wicked, as their tempters and deceivers. If therefore God is pleased to interfere, he can, in a moment, make the angel appear to encourage, and the demon to alarm; and how do we know but disembodied spirits, who are not happy, may be permitted to revenge themselves on those who have sent them to their dread account, with all their imperfections on their head,' by terrifying and troubling them in their ill - gotten wealth."

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"Such appearances, too," said Honestus, answer a kind and gracious purpose to the living; for they alarm thoughtless man more than all that is said in the divine word, and tend more to convince him, that verily there is a reward for the righteous-doubtless there is a God that judgeth in the earth,' and that there is a future and separate state of dreadful existence for the wicked, and of delightful immortality for the righteous.

In such conversation the hours passed swiftly away, and the bell announced to the servants that the hour of evening prayer was arrived. Sincerus then was requested to read a portion of Scripture; he chose that of Saul applying to the witch of Endor to raise him up the spirit of the prophet Samuel from the dead. He made some impressive observations on the danger of offending God by transgression or forgetfulness, on the advantages which Satan might be permitted to take of a man who left off the service of God-on the despondence which guilt would occasion, except relieved by hope in a Saviour, and on the importance of "seeking the Lord while he might be found," and on the happiness and security of his faithful servants, who shall not be deluded nor deceived by the spirits of darkness to their ruin.

After which the hymn of praise was raised, and Sincerus poured out the effusions of a feeling and pious heart for the benefit of all present.

The supper was then announced, and cheerfulness and wisdom presided at the table; and about eleven o'clock the party took leave of each other with the most cordial feelings of mutual regard.

THE LOCK-up-house AND DEBTORS' PRISON.

In the course of a day or two, Charles called at Mr. Peachman's for his friend Rowland, and found them set ting out to visit a new scene, and Charles was invited to accompany them.

Mr. Peachman had invited Rowland to accompany him to see a friend, who had been suddenly carried off by a writ to the lock-up-house, and who had now been confined in prison for two days. "I was at my Rev. friend's, Mr. Candid," said he, "who keeps an academy. The dinner was just coming on the table, when a rap was heard at the door. Rambler his assistant, who was always ready to attend the door, immediately went to it; a remonstrance was heard in the passage, when in rushed Rambler, in a state of agitation, under the hand of a peace officer, who held in his hand a writ. The officer would fain have persuaded Candid to bail him: but he thought it advisable to postpone this; upon which, the officer ordered him forthwith to accompany him he was not allowed to take refreshment, but immediately was hurried away to a lock-up house, near Holborn. Here I visited him with Candid; and truly the room, though pleasant, had a

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very appalling appearance, fastened up as it was with iron bars. Rambler was so absorbed in a reveríe of distress, and his eyes swollen with tears, that he did not at first perceive the entrance of his friend. When Candid addressed him, he burst into an agony of tears, and the thought that Candid's family would all know it, and actually were acquainted with his situation, excited a burst of loud exclamation and distress."

After sending to one and another friend to be bail for him, no one would consent, and therefore, Mr. Rambler was obliged to go to prison. Mr. Candid then examined Rambler as to the probable amount of his debts, and finding them nearly £100, which he had no prospect of discharging, he advised him as the only method of retrieving his affairs, and emancipating himself from the terror of creditors, to go into the White Cross Prison, and there wait the period of legal discharge.

There Mr. Peachman and Rowland went to visit Rambler, they gave their names at the door, and received a ticket of admission. After passing several winding lanes formed of high dead walls, they came to the iron gate admitting them to Rambler's ward. "The gate-keeper will soon return," said a guard there waiting, "walk into the waiting room, and there sit down till the keeper returns." They walked in, and sat down upon the large wooden benches, which filled the room. The keeper was at length announced, and they were admitted through the gate, and conducted to the ward-room, where Rambler not perceiving them, was sitting at a small table fixed to the floor, in one of the nearest boxes. They were soon at his side, and he received them with tears of joy. "What a scene!" said Charles. About one hundred people appeared in the room: some walking, others sleeping, some talking, others smoking, or drinking, or swearing and many as

merry as if sitting in a pothouse. "Who do you think that person is," said Rambler. "I do not know," said Peachman. "He is a late governor of an island in the East Indies, and he has been put in for debt. He laughs at it, and declares he will not attempt to get out, as he is determined not to pay it; and he will weary out his creditors, till they come to some composition." "How have you passed your time?" said Mr. Peachman. "In a melancholy manner indeed," said Rambler, "but I hope this prison-discipline will be of service in the end.

I therefore commit to you the following sketch of my reflections in a lock-up-house.

"LIBERTY AND CAPTIVITY CONTRASTED, OR, REFLECTIONS IN A LOCK-UP-HOUSE."

'Deprive a man of liberty, and you deprive him of life!

"What is the possession of riches, honour, or power, without liberty to enjoy them, but like the possession of wealth, without the blessing of health! For let a man have all the comforts that this world can afford, and if he have not that invaluable blessing, health, he will linger out an existence the most miserable; even so, is a man deprived of that cordial balm to the human soul, 'liberty.'

"Who can imagine the feelings of that man, who has been accustomed to civil and religious liberty all his life, and who has hitherto sustained an irreproachable character, who is now just in the prime of life thrown into a dungeon, to mix with those who are totally devoid of all moral and religious feelings? Not even himself can describe it in all its dark colours, as no language can convey his real feelings; but in this short essay such a one will attempt to do it, with a view to guard other young