for his interest to do so. For, if all men were alike, then he need not be uneasy; or, if the only difference consisted in pretension, then his very irregularities made him superior to many, as they would prove him the more honest man. He became severe on the conduct of the professors of religion; and lynx-eyed in detecting the faults of its ministers. Unhappily, too many instances of defection from religion occurred within the circle of his knowledge; and he abused them, to support his own departure, and sanction Wallis's theory of universal selfishness!

In addition to this, he was tempted to entertain sceptical notions of the christian dispensation. Infidelity has its root rather in the heart than the head. Lefevre had no doubts on the authenticity of religion till he wished to have them. The truths exhibited in revelation were become unpleasant to him. That the gospel he neglected rested on divine authority-that there is a God who will judge all menthat there is a state of future punishmentwere opinions, which he could not readily

accommodate, in a heart circumstanced as his. Awful to tell he wished to disbelieve them. He allowed himself to read books of an infidel tendency. He indulged the petulant objections to the christian scheme, and slighted the weight of evidence on which it stood. He even submitted to hear the ribaldry and ridicule of the pro-fane and thoughtless, and strove to call it argument. But all his efforts were as vain as they were shocking. His understanding gave the lie to his heart. The force of evidence was so overpowering that he could not release himself from the authority of truth. He remained a believer in opposition to his desires-in opposition to his efforts. The most that he could, at any time do, was, to doubt, not to disbelieveto be a sceptic, not an infidel.

But this was not enough. Lefevre had -done his utmost to neutralize a faith, he could not reject; and to reconcile his mind to his conduct, by supposing all men as bad as himself. But, after all, in his thoughtful moments, he was compelled to allow, that there was a reality in religion;

and that many of its professors were something more than hypocrites. He was still uneasy. He had long been endeavouring by undue excitement to subdue this feeling, and hide himself from himself. For this he had fled to the novel-to the cardtable-to the theatre-to scenes of obstreperous mirth and folly. To his chagrin however, their power to engross the thoughts, and excite the imagination de clined. The novel, deprived of its novelty, became insipid; and pleasures, always courted, lost their power to please! What was he to do? A fresh and more powerful excitement was necessary. Where was he to find it? Wine and strong drink offered themselves. Their offer was accepted! He had occasionally found their efficacy in enabling him to brave his fears, or forget himself; and he was, now, tempted to an habitual use of them:-not because he relished their flavour, or would readily submit himself to their most debasing effects, but because the disquietudes of an aggrieved conscience were insupportable to him!

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Such was the progress of Lefevre! While it is lamented, let it not be thought peculiar and surprising. It is the natural progress of sin. If there is any thing surprising in the course of a sinner it is, that he should ever take the first step into the paths of temptation-all the following steps admit, alas! of too easy an explanation. No temptation is final. Each one leads to another in an unbroken series; and the last lays hold on hell!' Let no one say then, Thus far will I go on forbidden ground, and no farther.' It is the language of presumption and ignorance. Lefevre thought this, if he dared not utter it. And, if any one might have thought it, he might; for he was temperate, intelligent, and virtuous. But how is he ensnared! Every step he takes seems to give the colour of impossibility to his return. Sin indeed is as the 'letting out of water, better not meddled with,' it appears, at first, like the little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, and excites no alarm; but it imperceptibly widens and lengthens, till it spreads all around us the gloom of hopeless sorrow!

CHAPTER XVII.

WHILE Lefevre was hoping for temporary peace by violent efforts to suppress the voice of conscience, he was subjected to new alarm from a voice, that was neither to be cajoled nor resisted-it was the voice of creditors. He had failed to learn. the right use of money by his past embarrassments. He had flattered himself about the patience of those to whom he was indebted, and his capacity, in the end, to satisfy them, till his difficulties forced themselves upon him, and appeared in a menacing and insurmountable aspect.

He had already, in addition to the sum Wallis lent him, borrowed £100 of an acquaintance on interest. This, for a time, set him free from his entanglements, and enabled him to redeem the pledge he had given to his brother's creditors; but,