Recollections of Windsor Prison; / Containing Sketches of its History and Discipline, with Appropriate Strictures and Moral and Religious Reflection

by of Vermont John Reynolds

PARDONS.

The Governor and Council have the power of granting pardons, and once in every year they meet to attend to this and other duties assigned them by the Constitution. The prisoner who hopes to share in their mercy, procures petitions from his friends and former acquaintances in his behalf, and causes them, with his own petition, to be laid before them at their annual meeting. The principal officer of the prison has been generally depended upon to lay the petitions before the Governor and Council; but the conduct of this officer has so far failed to place him in the confidence of the prisoners, that they never trust their cases in his hands, if they can get any one else to attend to them. The common opinion is, that he is never willing to let a prisoner go who is any profit to the Institution; and for this opinion there is as much evidence as there is that a merchant never wishes to lose a good customer, or a doctor to hasten the cure of a rich patient. I was more confirmed in this opinion after my release than I had been before. A friend of mine who had been for several years, and was then, a member of the Legislature, told me that the fall before, he called on the principal officer of the prison to get my petition, and be prepared to lay my case before the pardoning authority, and was told by him that I "had not petitioned." When my friend told me this I was thunderstruck. That officer knew that I had petitioned, for I conversed with him on the subject, and gave the petition into his hand; and he informed me when he returned, that he laid it before the Governor and Council, and told me some of the observations that were made upon it. What shocked me the most was the hypocrisy of the man. He had professed to be my friend—and was a member of a christian church; and yet he was so unwilling to lose my labour, that he prevented the interposition of my friend for my release. I have the most unshaken confidence in the veracity of my friend; he could not have been mistaken, and he had no motive to misrepresent. This fact is directly to the point. It speaks a great deal. And it shews why the prisoners are not willing to trust their cases to the officers of the prison.

It is a fact, and I wish to have it known, that it is very difficult for a prisoner who is any profit to the Institution to get a pardon. I will not pretend to apply the fault, but I know the fact; and hence some of the convicts, acting on the base principle of opposing craft to craft, and returning evil for evil, render themselves of as little use as possible. It has become a proverb in the prison, that a good weaver is sure to be kept as long as he is able to weave. This proverb is inscribed on the facts that transpire every fall, and it ought to find a humbling and condemning application somewhere.

Deprived thus of all confidence in their keepers, the petitioners, who have the means, generally call to their assistance some of the lawyers in the village. These men are always ready to work for cash; and when they know that their assistance can be of no service, they will take from a prisoner those very dollars which he has ruined his health and destroyed his constitution to earn. Like blood suckers, a few of them gather around the prisoners every pardoning time, and carry off all the money that the poor creatures have been able to scrape together.

Now I find no fault with these lawyers, for such is their trade; but I condemn the authority for permitting them to practice on the credulity of the captives, and trick them out of their hard earned dollars. It is a libel on the principles of the Governor and Council to suppose that such lawyers can plead them into the exercise of mercy. They know what some of that profession will do for money, and there is no instance in which they have been of any real service to their clients in the prison, in applications for pardon. The Executive meet to decide from facts, and these facts should come to them from the authority of the prison, and from other sources. The authority of the prison ought to do its duty, and secure the confidence of the prisoners; and thus prevent the unprincipled and avaricious interference of these lawyers. I do not mean to reflect generally, on the profession of the law. There are in that bright array of learning and talent, as many high, noble, and ethereal spirits as any other profession can boast of—and some of the meanest souls that ever lived.

There is but one general rule, according to which all pardons should be granted, and this rule is JUSTICE. It may be just to pardon one man and not another; and if it is right on any account to pardon one man, it is right to pardon all who are in the same circumstances—indeed it would be criminal not to. Justice holds an even scale. So does mercy, which is only that exercise of justice, which relates to the wretched. And the reason why one man should be pardoned and another not, is, that, according to all the facts in the two cases, community would be safe in the pardon of that man, but not of this. The design of all punishment should be the reformation of the sufferer. When this is presumptively effected, the object is attained, and all further suffering for the crime from the hand of the law, would be purely vindictive, and infernally cruel. This is the only principle on which God punishes; and hence endless punishment under his government, and all capital punishments by human laws, would be equally unjust and inconsistent. In this respect, men often err, but God never can; and human laws will not be perfect until they abolish capital punishments and chastise only to reform.

If this principle had been acted upon in the Windsor Prison, many years of suffering would have been spared to human hearts, and many a soul would have gone with less guilt to judgment. That prison is called a Penitentiary.—As properly might hell be called heaven. The spirit of the penitentiary system finds there no place to lay its head. Not the reformation of the convicts is sought, but their earnings; and they are treated just as an intelligent but heartless slave-holder would treat his negroes—made to work as long as they can earn their living, and then cursed with freedom that they may die on their own expense. The keepers lay it down as an axiom in their practice, that it is impossible to reform a prisoner. Perhaps they will admit that God could do it, and I cheerfully agree with them that none but He can reform a sinner after he has fallen into their hands. And it is equally plain to my mind, that nothing less than omnipotent power will ever reform them.

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE PRISONERS WHEN RELEASED.

Some of the prisoners have the means of dressing themselves decently when they leave the prison, and of living till they can find employment; but the greater part of them go away from that place in very mean clothing, and with not a dollar in their pockets. In this situation they are turned loose upon the world, often far from their friends, and not a soul to apply to for assistance. They cannot get into work any where, for they carry "the mark of the BEAST," not only "in their foreheads," but "on the borders of their garments," and every body shuns them. They have no money, and consequently they must either beg, or steal. Nor are they moral agents in this case; necessity is laid upon them and they must do it. The Superintendent said the same to me once when we were conversing on this subject. "If they do not get into employment within three days from their leaving the prison," said he, "which is next to impossible, they must either beg, steal, or die."—Is it not a pity that this man did not do something for the benefit of those who were going out into such a probation as would try the integrity of a saint? especially when the government authorised him to?

One reason why the convicts leave the prison in such a shabby dress, is, that no care is taken with the clothes that are worn thither; all the garments which the prisoners wear to the prison, are thrown together in a garret, and left for the moths to prey upon. By this means the poor garments become worse, and many that were excellent are destroyed; so that when the owners have occasion to wear them again, they are good for nothing. Even new garments which the prisoners purchase while there, are often so much neglected as to be greatly injured, and sometimes nearly spoiled. And some valuable articles, such as boots, hats, and vests, have been lost through the carelessness of the keepers. In these things, however, there has been some reform of late, and I hope it will be carried through.

Another reason why some of the prisoners fare no better when they leave the prison, is, that some one of the keepers has a spite to gratify, and he takes this opportunity, not only because it is the last, but because it best suits the malignity of his purpose.

I have seen some leave the prison in the winter, with thin summer garments; some without a hat; and many scores who were not fit to be seen with a company of colliers. They had served their time out in a penitentiary; but their appearance was enough to demonstrate to all that saw them, that they had been under the care of impenitent keepers. They went out among human beings, but like him who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, both the priest and the Levite shunned them, and they were not often fortunate enough to be noticed by a SAMARITAN. The truth of the case is, the law in this particular is faulty. No man ought ever to be turned out upon society as these prisoners are. If they deserve to be free, give them a freedom suit, and money to get into business; but if they do not, keep them till they do. Give a man a fair chance to become honest, and not place his principles where Gabriel's would be polluted. If men desire to make sinners better, let them help them to reform, and not place them under a necessity to do wrong. Let there be an adherence to principle, and if punishment is to be under the government of mercy, let it be merciful throughout; but if it is not designed to reform, then say so—write your laws in blood—catch every criminal you can, and either hang him or shut him up for life. Let there be consistency between principle and conduct, and if it is the purpose of the law to make its ministers furies, let them not be clothed as angels of light.

This neglect of the prisoner when he is released, is the great cause of so many re-commitments, either to the same, or other prisons. The man is unable to get into employment. He reads scorn in every eye. He has no clothes fit to wear. He has no home, nor pillow to lay his head on. He spends his days on the highway, and his nights in the field or in some barn. He has not a crust of bread to satisfy the imperious demands of hunger. He drinks the running brook. His spirits sink down. He is a stranger in his own country, and a hermit in the midst of society. He is starving in the midst of plenty. Uncared for by others, he forgets all care about himself. Worse off he cannot be, he may be better. He has nothing to lose, and any change must be in his favour. He puts forth exertion and cares not how the experiment results. Look at this man. Is not his situation almost an excuse for any thing he may do? Place yourself there, and conjecture how you would act. What can he do? What could an angel do in his circumstances? Here, you who would trace second offences to their cause, here is the reason why so many return to their former abodes. Where, I ask, is the mercy of a penitentiary, which treats its subjects thus? Don't say that they could get into employment. They could not. Would you employ a man so meanly clothed, that he was not fit to tend your hogs, and whose every appearance told you he had either been released from state prison, or broken out of gaol? You would not. Neither would your neighbours. What then could he do? Let the benevolent think of this, and act accordingly. That is not benevolence which sits by the sufferer only to rivet his chains, and leaves him when it can torment him no more. This penitentiary is like the thieves who fell upon the traveller to Jericho, it strips its victims of their raiment, and leaves them half dead.

GOD'S VIOLATED RULE OF TREATING PENITENT CRIMINALS.
AN ESSAY.

If the wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had robbed, walk in the statutes of life, without committing iniquity; he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of the sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned unto him; he hath done that which is lawful and right; he shall surely live.—Ezekiel xxxiii. 15, 16.

In this passage of Sacred Scripture, the manner in which God deals with his sinful creatures, when they repent, is very clearly and forcibly asserted; and with equal clearness and force is it laid down as a law of universal and eternal obligation, that when a sinner turns from the evil of his way, and does that which is right, "none of the sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned unto him." The meaning of this is, that the greatest sinners shall find mercy on their reformation, and that the sins of which a man has repented, shall never be thrown in his face, nor be improved in any way to his injury. Such is the rule by which God is governed, and which he enjoins as a law upon his creatures; and I wish to inculcate its benevolent and sacred principle upon you, with reference to those who are coming up from the infamy of crime and the penalty of the law, with a determination to reform their lives and regain the confidence of their fellow men. I wish you to treat them as God does; not as if they had never sinned, but as if they had repented; and shew by your conduct, that you share in the delight of angels, when a lost sheep is found, and a prodigal returns. But before I proceed any farther, I will hear some objections which may arise, and take an impartial view of the ground I am going to occupy.

It will be said that those outcasts whose cause I am espousing, have rendered themselves infamous by crime; that they have disturbed the peace of society, trampled on the laws of God and man, and have been shut up in prison to keep them from further outrage upon the rights of community. I grant it. If you are a christian, what then?

It will also be said that but little dependence can be placed on the professions of this class of sinners; that having transgressed once, they are likely to repeat the crime; and that the next thing that is heard from them, they will be back again in their old place.—This is true, and the very conduct which grows out of this objection, is, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the sole cause of it.

Another—I could not believe it if I had not heard it myself—another objector will say—"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetors, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God."—Alas! that such crimes should ever find a name among men! But the same divine authority which declared this, affirms also, that "such were some of you;" and if "ye are washed, sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God," is there not hope for these also?

Having thus briefly noticed some objections which I had reason to anticipate, I shall proceed with the subject before me; and I propose, in the first place, to state how repentant criminals are treated by those who call themselves christians, and even by christian ministers, after they are released from prison.

In the second place, I shall shew how they ought to be treated, according to the divine principle of the text.

And lastly, I shall glance at the good that would flow from such treatment not only to them, but to the community, and to the cause of religion.

I. I am to state how repentant criminals are treated by those who call themselves christians, and even by christian ministers, after they are released from prison. In doing this, I shall confine myself to positive facts; and of these, I shall select only such as have come under my own knowledge, or which were related to me by those who either observed or experienced them.

The first individual whom I shall cause to pass before you in connexion with the treatment which he has received from professing christians and christian ministers, is the Rev. J. Robbins, a man of uncommon powers of mind, and of unquestionable piety, and who has more divine seals to his commission, than many of his opposers.

While he was suffering for his sins within the dreary walls of a State prison, he was led to think on his ways and reform his life. At the expiration of his sentence, he was let out into the world, without money, and very thinly and uncomfortably clothed. In this situation, destitute of all things, and far from his friends, he went into the adjoining city of Boston, and went to work with a hand-cart. The weather was cold, and he was not able to obtain clothes enough to keep him warm.

In this forlorn and suffering condition, he applied to the Rev. Mr. ****, who had been Chaplain of the prison in which he had been confined, for some relief, or assistance to obtain employment. This Rev. gentleman was personally acquainted with him; knew that he had resolved on leading a christian life; and knew that he was at that time in need of a friend. What did he do for him? Why, he said—"Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding he gave him not those things which were needful to the body."

If these things are right, let it be known. If this is the christianity of the Bible, let it be avowed—let the preachers from their desks declare it, and bring the high standard of christian benevolence down to the muddy surface of their practical illustrations of it. Let there be harmony between doctrine and conduct. Either give us a revision of the Scriptures, to accord with the morality of the church, or let its maxims as they now stand in capitals on all its pages, be copied in the every day and every where conduct of those who profess to be the salt of the earth, and the light of the world.

Here is a minister of the everlasting gospel; and in the person of one of his followers, he turns away the Saviour himself, "hungry, naked," and from "prison."—Rev. Sir, for just such conduct as you have been guilty of, in the instance alluded to, the Son of man will one day say to some,—"Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire!"

After some time Mr. Robbins obtained help from his distant friends, and was enabled to make a respectable appearance. But in the interim he learned by hard experience, that shivering and half-clad limbs can, even in the benevolent, philanthropic, and christian city of Boston, pass by the priest and the Levite, and range the streets, impurpled by the wintry blasts, uncompassionated and unrelieved.

As soon as circumstances would permit, he united in christian fellowship with a church, desiring in proper time to become a missionary to state prisons, to declare to the erring and degraded sons of crime the salvation of the gospel. In this view of his duty he appeared singular with some of the rulers of the church, and for this, or some other cause, he transferred his fellowship from the Congregationalists to the Episcopal Methodists.

On making this transfer, he applied to the church for license to exhort, for which he obtained ONE vote only. But as there was no contra votes, his license was barely granted. Not a very cordial reception this, and more sensitive minds than his, would have felt it; but nothing of this kind ever had an effect to deter him from going forward in the course of his duty; and after the usual time, he was licensed as a preacher.

He began now to think more seriously of turning his immediate attention to prisons. Explaining his views to the church, enough fell in with them to form a society, called "The Prison Missionary Society," of which he was appointed Agent and Secretary. This Society was formed in Boston, and according to its plan, Mr. Robbins went out to form other similar societies in different places, till his views should be carried into effect by sending all the means of salvation to as many prisons as possible, and by finding employment for prisoners when they are released.

The design of this society was noble, and it ought to have been supported. Not like the "Prison Discipline Society," which tortures the prisoner while it can, and then throws him out, unprotected, unhelped, and friendless, on the scorn of mankind, to pursue from necessity, his old course, and be sent back again; this society aimed to treat the prisoner as a human being, and to effect his reformation by the mild means of the gospel, while he is confined; and to go with him when set free, and prevent him from being compelled to sin again, by giving him clothes, money, and employment, and elevating him to the dignity of a citizen, and the respect of mankind. Such an enterprise as this would have done honor to a Howard, and in the hands of Dwight, it would have lived. But in the aristocracy of our religious associations, enterprises and children are treated alike. The son of a great man is respected, wise or foolish, but the children of the poor must hew wood and draw water, though able to measure minds with Newton and Locke.

How many societies were formed, I know not, nor can I tell why the enterprise was abandoned. The probable cause was, that none but Mr. Robbins felt much interest in it, and not able to do all himself, it fell through for want of adequate support.

In the conduct of this Society, there was an act of injustice to Mr. Robbins which, in my view of it, deserves reprehension. He had formed many societies, had collected some money, and had promised that a minute report of all his doings should be made to the public, so that every contributor might know that the contributions had been applied to the proper object. This report ought to have been made, both to save his veracity and to vindicate his honesty, both of which have suffered, and, in many places, have been completely compromised by the non-fulfilment of his official promise. If, however, he is satisfied, I shall not complain.

While engaged as the agent of this Society, Mr. Robbins spent one year in Concord, N. H. and officiated as Chaplain to the State prison. Whether his labors were well directed in that sphere of usefulness or not; how much or how little good was effected; whether his conduct was approved or condemned by the authority of the prison, I am not prepared to say. My opinion, however, is decidedly in his favor. I believe from what I learned on the spot—from the prisoners and the public—that he was the very man for that place; and that he labored indefatigably, intelligently, and efficiently, for the spiritual good of his brethren in bondage. I believe, too, that he was unpopular with the keepers, and I regard this as an evidence in his favor, of the highest kind that the case admits of. Had they espoused his cause, and desired his continuance there as Chaplain, I should have doubted his fitness for that office. For it is not more certain that there are prisoners and keepers, than that he who seeks the real and lasting good of the former, must find opposers and enemies among the latter. I make this statement with perfect fearlessness, in view of much personal observation and experience; in accordance with every principle of the philosophy of man; and from the history of prisons in every nation and age of the world.

At the expiration of his engagement in Concord, he visited Windsor, Vermont, and spent about six months as Chaplain of the prison there. In that place his labors were abundantly blessed, and will tell on the happiness of many immortal spirits, in the kingdom of God for ever. I pen this with the most distinct, vivid, and impressive recollections; and in the emotion of my soul, I cannot help inquiring why he was so abruptly discharged from that field of promise? It was his desire to stay,—it was the desire of the prisoners that he should stay,—the indications of Providence said—"stay,"—he offered his services as a gratuity,—and his conduct was not by any one impeached.—Why then was he removed? I heard the Superintendent of the prison assure him, that his services as the Chaplain of the prison, had been perfectly satisfactory. What, then, I ask again, nerved that unsympathizing arm, that threw him out of employment and usefulness, at the commencement of winter, to freeze or starve, to live or die? Let the truth be told, and tell it, you that can.

At the opening of the next spring, he thought of returning to Concord, and preaching again to the prisoners. He waited on the Governor with letters of recommendation, and laid a petition before the Legislature to obtain the chaplaincy of the prison for the ensuing year; but he did not succeed. Why he failed, may be inferred from the following facts.—

The Methodists were at that time contemplating a settlement in Concord. The number that had espoused that faith was very limited, and without some help, they could not support a preacher; and the salary allowed to the chaplain of the prison would be a very important item in their calculations. But this could be obtained only by having a minister of their order appointed by the Legislature, which was then in session. But then Mr. R. was a Methodist. True, but he was not the man for that place; and he did not wish to be, any farther than for the prison. Why was he not the man for that place? Was he not a good preacher? had he not learning and talent adequate to the claims of the place? and was he not admitted to be pious? O yes; in all these respects he stood on no mean elevation. Why then was he not the man? Why, he had been a sinner; and though his opposers told the Lord every time they prayed, that they had been the chief of sinners themselves, they yet thanked God that they were not like this publican, and said to him—"Stand off—we are more holy."

This then is the sole reason why they set their faces against Mr. R.—HE HAD BEEN A BAD MAN. Whom then would they have? and how could they obtain him? In the Methodist Church the preachers are the property of the bishops, and they can dispose of them as they please. Accordingly the bishop was applied to, and a preacher was stationed in Concord for the coming year. This preacher was then recommended to the Legislature, and appointed chaplain of the prison, to the exclusion of the first applicant.

By how mean a motive is human nature capable of being influenced? In its idolatrous devotion to self, how reckless of consequences? By this act of pious selfishness, fifty dollars were gained by the Methodist Society in Concord, and a man who was peculiarly fitted for usefulness in a certain sphere, and who was trying to move in that sphere, was thrown out of all employment, and compelled to abandon a benevolent enterprise, which had twined round every fibre of his heart.

Is this a fair specimen of religious conduct? Is this the meaning of that divine command which requires all men, and christians especially, to do as they would be done by? Is this "not mentioning to the penitent sinner the sins that he hath committed?" Is this brotherly love? Is this the spirit of the prayer—"forgive as WE forgive?" With such records as these in the books which will be opened in "that day for which all other days were made," who would be willing to go to judgment?

One circumstance more, and I shall have done, for the present, with Mr. R. It is a rule in the Methodist Church that a local preacher shall be ordained deacon, when he has been licensed to preach four years; but Mr. R. has been on trial more than six years, and is not, I believe, ordained yet, though he has been recommended for it. He has also applied several times, with the best of recommendations, to join the annual conference, but has always been rejected. Why? Not that he has done any thing amiss, since he has been among them, but they fear he will! He is in good standing as a local preacher, but he must not ascend to the house of Lords, lest he should do something, or through fear that he has done something in days of yore, that might overshadow the dignity of their illustrious body. Mary Magdalene could be in the society of Jesus; the thief on the cross could be with his Lord in Paradise; and the disciples could give the right hand of fellowship to Paul; but things have altered vastly since those times. The servant who has been forgiven, takes his fellow servant by the throat now-a-days. Should our Father in heaven act as some of his professed children on earth do, universal and eternal damnation would be certain. This annual conference refuses to admit a man into its fellowship, whose life for many years has been that of a christian, and who lives in the confidence of all his numerous friends, for fear that it will be disgraced; and yet a similar body, under the same bishop, voted Rev. E. K. A. as pure as the morning dew-drop, when the public opinion had thrown upon his soul all the guilt of the fallen angels. Proh pudor!

So much for the Rev. Mr. R. and his connexion with the sympathies and charities of christians. Against those whose conduct I have condemned, I have no personal animosities to gratify; nor have I any particular feelings of extraordinary friendship for Mr. R., that would lead me to vindicate his conduct against truth and justice. I am his friend to the full extent of honourable and christian principles, but no farther. Were there any thing wrong in his conduct, I could see it as quick as any one, and our mutual rule has ever been, not to cover each other's faults. No one, I think, knows him better than I do, and unless his conduct appears to me very different from what it really is, he is certainly an injured man; and his wounds are the less excuseable, inasmuch as they were received in the house of his friends. My sole design is to state facts, which I mean to do faithfully, without reference to friend or foe. If I should err, it will be unintentional, and I shall be open to correction; if I am correct, I am not answerable for the inferences which may be drawn from my statements.

Another individual who has been brothered, and kissed, and smitten in the fifth rib, by the Joabs of modern christianity, I will introduce to your acquaintance under the title of THE AUTHOR.

But before I enter upon those events which belong more immediately to my subject, it is due to many pious and very excellent individuals to record of them, that the author ever found in them a spirit becoming the christian, and principles of oral and religious conduct which demonstrate, that, as there were seven thousand in ancient Israel, who had not bowed to the image of Baal, so there are many in modern Israel who are true to their profession. These he will delight to remember, and to cherish for them the warmest emotions of gratitude, while life remains. They are of that number who make actions the criterion of character, and who expect to be judged according to their works; and who claim not to be esteemed christians any farther then they live like christians.

As soon as the author was released from his long and dreary confinement, he united with the church with a view to the ministry, and to spending his life in publishing salvation to prisons. To this course he had been urged by many of his particular friends, and prompted by his most sanguine feelings; and to his mind, there was but one objection against it. This objection grew out of the popular interpretation of St. Paul's language, that a minister must have a good report of them that are without; which is generally understood to exclude from the desk all those who have, in any way, rendered themselves infamous, however sincerely they may have repented, and however thoroughly they may have reformed. On this he balanced for some time; but when he reflected that John Bunyan and the American Fuller, had been useful in the ministry, after having a very bad report of them who were without, he thought that he might be excused if he followed their steps. It occurred to him, also, that if Christ came into the world to save sinners—if the pious king of Israel came into the courts of his God, after washing his hands from the blood of murder, and bathing himself from the pollution of an adulterous bed—if the sacred orator of Mar's Hill came to the ministry from off a sea of martyr's blood, which his wicked hands had spilt—if the preacher on the day of Pentecost had been the Satan whom Jesus ordered to get behind him, and the profane denier of his accused Master—if, in fine, he who was with Jesus in Paradise, in the evening, had been conducted, in the morning, from a criminal's dungeon to the cross of an ignominious death; no good reason could be assigned why a man might not leave a prisoner's cell, and take that course to usefulness which providence seemed to point out.

The objection thus obviated, and a sense of duty prompting him, he cheerfully followed in the opening of providence; and in the usual time, after the customary examination, he was admitted into the ministerial fellowship of the Methodist denomination, and licensed to preach the gospel.

He now began to feel as if he was in the bosom of none but true and christian friends. In the deep blue firmament of his future hopes, no cloud was seen; and the earth around him was rich with the fragrance and verdure of promise. But "disappointment smiled at hope's career," and blight beneath, and clouds above, soon taught him that a "brother will utterly supplant, and a neighbor walk with slanders"—that "they will deceive and not speak the truth."

During the first six months after his enlargement, he was frequently in company with some of those preachers who had officiated as chaplains at the prison; and from what he had heard them say in their sermons and prayers, he was expecting them to take some interest in his case, and give him some advice. But in this he expected too much. Not one of them ever inquired what he was doing, nor offered any assistance to get him into business; nor did they ever mention the subject of religion in his hearing. These were negative friends, for they did him no good. They were also negative enemies, for they did him no harm. And had all his enemies been negative ones, it would have been a very happy circumstance for him; but alas! most of them have been positive enemies to the extent of their power.

The first brother in the ministry who lifted up his heel against him, was Rev. R. L. H***. I would mention this man's name with some respect, knowing that the person he injured, feels that a great debt of gratitude is not cancelled by any efforts which his enemy has made, to divide him from the esteem, respect, and confidence of the church. The claims of gratitude I know are lasting, and it must be painful to find one who has been a benefactor, become an enemy without any cause. But such things do happen, and this is an instance of it; and though the heart that bled retains no resentment, still I have a motive for rescuing this fact from oblivion, and preserving it in this connexion. The fact is as follows.—

The author, after an absence of some months, returned to the vicinity in which Mr. H—— resided, and by the request of a friend, preached from a particular text. In the sermon he dropped some remarks, which were considered as outstripping the theological landmarks of the order, of which it pleased Mr. H. to take a most scrutinizing notice. The sentiment objected to was, that the proportion of the saved over the lost, would be as ten thousand to one. As this opinion was very harshly and unfairly treated, the author took it up in another discourse, and argued it at full length from the Scriptures. Mr. H. was present, and closed the meeting with a string of remarks as long as the sermon, which he treated with no high degree of christian courtesy. After the service was closed, the disputed sentiment was discussed by the preacher and Mr. H., and the latter gentleman soon found, that he had engaged in a work for which he was perfectly unprepared. Scarcely able to write legibly, profoundly ignorant of all science, and even of the first principles of his vernacular tongue, he yet had the vanity to contest a point in the high science of theology; and the immense weight of his ignorance, which he had never felt so sensibly before, so wounded him into resentment against his antagonist, that he began to denounce him as a heretic, and tried to ruin his christian character in the church and among his friends. As the author left that place immediately to fulfil his engagements, Mr. H. had an excellent opportunity to gratify his unenviable feelings against him, which he did to a far greater extent than will suit his convenience in the world to come.

Another Joab will be found in the person of Rev. E. W. S. This man was a friend to the author while his own interest required him to be, and when that interest changed, he became his enemy. The conduct of this man is enough to make humanity redden with shame. The meanness of his soul—the pollution of his heart, and the iniquity of his conduct, exhibit outlines of character, which I hope can find a prototype in no being but himself. Slander was his delightful and busy employment; and with low hints, dirty insinuations, and all the filthy brood of scandal, he was in close fellowship and constant communion. It is enough to say of this Rev. gentleman, that when he desired to take the place of the author, he laboured with all his might to shake the confidence of the community in him; and though he laboured without success, he rendered the situation of his prophetic victim so unpleasant, that he voluntarily withdrew from a field which his unprovoked enemy had secretly planted with thistles.

But Mr. S. gained nothing by this; for though the field which he desired to occupy, was left open to him, he found that the community there had no desire for his services. This is generally the result of such conduct. There is a re-action in guilt, and Haman generally dies on the gallows which he erected for Mordecai.

About this time the author had occasion to doubt the sincerity of some other clergymen, who made great professions of friendship for him, and were loud in praises of their own piety. He learned here the elements of that knowledge which has been fully taught him since—that profession is not principle—that self-interest is so general a spring to action in ALL minds, that it will not be safe, in practice, to admit of any exceptions—and that generous confidence in man is often an ignis fatuus that leads to ruin. Self is every man's idol, and he loves it with all his heart. I admit that there are exceptions, and humanity is not really so bad, as, in practice, we are prudently to consider it. There are exceptions, but who knows, where to make them? "Commit yourself to no man," is the voice of all experience; and my experience has taught me, that, in a clash or competition of interests, no man will regard mine, and I must contend for, or lose it.

It pains my heart to be compelled to write such bitter things against that nature which I possess in common with others, and I should not yield to the necessity of doing so, had I not an important duty to perform. There are many individuals coming out of prisons every year, and they are coming out under an impression that they can regain their characters and be respected by their fellow men. I wish to inform them that their expectations are groundless. If they will consent to become the tools of a party, and stepping stones for others, they will be treated as tools and stepping stones; but if they set up for themselves, and contend for their rights, they will be like deers amidst a thousand blood hounds and hunters. Few men whose interest they will not promote to the neglect of their own, will be too good to tell them of things gone by; and even ministers will treat them worse than Michael treated the Devil.

I have made these remarks with reference to the treatment the author received from Rev. Messrs. J. S——, N. W. W——, A. C—— and M. C——, and, also, to what he suffered during his connexion with the M. P. C. in B——, a faithful though brief account of which, I am now going to submit to the reader.

The author's connexion with this church was formed in the month of July, 1831. He was engaged by the committee in full view of his imprisonment, and with a solemn pledge on their part, that what was past should never be considered any thing against him in their minds, and that they never would desert him on account of it. How well some of them have kept their pledge I need not say. All that related to their pastor was soon communicated in different ways to the members of the church, and they respected him none the less on account of what was past.

The ministers who had officiated previous to this time, were Rev. J. S., President of the Annual Conference of the M. P. Church in Massachusetts, a man whose name is identified with the early history of Methodism in New England, and dear to the hearts of thousands; Rev. T. F. N. Superintendent of the church in Malden; and Rev. J. D. Y. These gentlemen united their labors to promote the interests of the church, and they expressed much satisfaction when the author was appointed to labor in that place. Both in the public prints, and in private conversation, they gave the strongest demonstrations of their good feeling and entire satisfaction in the event. Why they changed their minds, and what cause they had to become enemies to the man whom they had so highly commended, must be inferred from circumstances; and all the circumstances necessary to this inference I shall now lay before the reader.

Soon after the author's connexion with the church, Rev. Mr. Y. proposed to have him ordained Deacon, which was accordingly done. The church immediately proposed to have him ordained Elder, which was also done. To this some objections were made by the ministers above named, but the vote for it, both in the church and conference, was unanimous.

About this time there was an obvious change in the conduct of Rev. Mr. Y. The cause of this change, I should not like to assume the responsibility of giving. Some thought it was on account of the last ordination, and the act of the President in appointing the author superintendent of the church over him. If this was the cause it evinces a greater share of vanity in him than ought to belong to a christian minister.

At no distant period from this, Rev. Mr. N. began to give some indications of coldness towards the church and its appointed minister. I have no more data for the cause of this change than I have for that in Rev. Mr. Y. This much, however, I know, that Rev. Mr. N. condemned in the most pointed and bitter language, the conduct of the other gentleman, said it was unmanly, unchristian, and cruel.

Last of all Rev. Mr. S. became displeased with the author, and united with the other gentlemen above named to injure him. What this last gentleman gave as the cause of his coldness towards the author was a sentence in one of his published letters, which he considered as a reflection on him. The sentence was the following:—

"Had you sent us an able minister when Dr. French left us, not only would some serious internal difficulties have been prevented, but the cause which then began to bud, would, before this time, have produced a glorious harvest."

This letter was addressed to the Editor of the M. P. Periodical in Baltimore; and as Rev. Mr. S. took charge of the church when Dr. French left it, he said the implication was that he was not an "able minister."

It was not in Rev. Mr. S's nature to take fire at such trifles, and it is due to him to say, that he was instigated by others, or he never would have acted so inconsistently. The sentence objected to had not the least reference to him, who was highly and deservedly esteemed by the church, but belonged to things well known at the time, in which he shared no blame.

The course pursued by the author amidst these difficulties, was that of self-defence and submission to the proper and only authority of the church. He was what that authority made him, and every favor it conferred, came unsought. He had his opinions of right and wrong, and he always counselled, but never opposed the voice of the church. In this respect he differed from his enemies, who took it on themselves to oppose what the church did, and to deny her right to act independently of them, or against the will of a body of which they were the Alpha and Omega. They used every effort in their power to accomplish their purposes against the church and its minister, but to little effect. At length, growing weary with perpetual war, the author concluded to take up his connexion with his people and go to New-York. To this, some opposition was made by the church, but his purpose had been matured and could not be changed. He accordingly took letters, and united with the Conference in New-York; which also received the church into its fellowship at the same time, and sent Rev. Thomas K. Witsil to superintend it. But this was an unfortunate connexion. The old enemies of the church and of the author, began now to practice on Rev. Mr. Witsil, and in a very few months the church was shaken down and scattered to the winds of the heavens.

I am now going to mention particularly what the Rev. enemies of the author did to injure him, while he was in B., and after he left it.—They tried to shake public confidence in him by mean allusions to his past history, both among the members of the church and congregation. They wrote letters to a distance to prevent his getting into employment. They published the most bitter and unchristian libels against him in the common newspapers of the city. And they resorted to all the means they could to cut off his means of support in the church. I have on record all their acts and doings against him—I have copies of the letters they sent to New-York—the pieces they printed in the papers—and what they said to individuals in the city. One of them may think that he has been cunning enough to escape observation in what he has done, but he is mistaken. His path has been observed, his track has been seen; and there may be a day of retribution.

Now, what just cause had they to array themselves against that individual? What evil had he done, that they should treat him thus? He has means of referring to their own printed letters, in which they speak much in his favor; what has he done since to give just occasion for such attacks?

The author is fully aware of the fact that no man is a proper judge of his own cause, and that in the heat of opposition, both parties are apt to be in the wrong. Of his own fallibility, he has had too many painful evidences to entertain a doubt; and he presumes not to say that in all things he acted as he should were he to be placed in the same circumstances again. How infallible his enemies are, in their own opinion, he is too well informed to inquire. They think that they did right in all they did, I have no doubt of this, for the Holy Bible assures me that God will send to certain individuals strong delusions that they may believe a lie. They no doubt think they were doing God service, when they were trying to ruin a fellow creature. When they were serving their master well, they said; "Come, see our zeal for the Lord." I readily admit that, like Saul, they did these things ignorantly and in unbelief; and for this reason I hope they will find mercy, and be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus, even if it should be "so as by fire." It is then, as has been already intimated, very possible that both parties have something to lament, and something to repent of. On this possibility I have thought much, and while I can find no vindication for his enemies on the principles of honorable conduct in heaven, or earth, or under the earth, I find it equally difficult to vindicate the conduct of the author in some things. It was right for him to submit to the voice of the church, and to promote her interest against all her enemies. It was right for him to defend himself against the wicked attacks of his personal foes. And the only part of his conduct that, after deliberate examination, seems to deserve any animadversion is, that in which he put confidence in strangers, and trusted them contrary to the maxims of prudence and the voice of his own experience. But he trusts that the evils he endured from want of prudence will have a good effect on him for the future; and if they cause him to withhold his confidence from strangers, and trust no man because he is a professor or minister, till he knows whether he is what he professes to be, he will have no occasion to regret them.

The melancholy fact that the most sanguine professions of friendship are not to be relied upon, draws strong confirmation from the conduct of the Reverend enemies of the author mentioned above. They were warm in their professions, and equally warm in their enmity. His flatterers and eulogists, and his traducers and persecutors. Making him an angel one day, and a devil the next. One week learned and eloquent, and another ignorant and stammering. With one breath comparing him to Cicero, and with the next to an Indian. Any thing or nothing—a saint or a sinner—according to the whim of the moment or the expediency of the case. It is impossible to find greater inconsistencies than their conduct presents; and if any man wants occasion to be ashamed of his race, let him look at the actions of these men. They kissed and stabbed; defended and deserted; applauded and condemned, just as their present interest seemed to dictate; though the object of their praise and vituperation was the same being at all times, acting on the same principles, and pursuing the same even and steady way.

But what makes this picture the more saddening to the soul, is, the extent of its application. It presents the very common exhibitions of character which abound in our world. Under similar circumstances, who that has not the lovely principles of the gospel in his soul, would act very differently? This is, however, no apology for them. The frequency of a crime detracts not from its deformity, and sin is sin though an angel should commit it. And the general application of these ugly features of human depravity demonstrates the chilling truth, that he who has fallen can never hope to rise. Interest will have sway, and before its influence, justice and mercy are but dust before a tempest. He that sins and is detected will carry the scar to his grave, and he might as well try to blot out the sun as to hide it.

I have now finished the account which I promised to give of the author's connexion with the M. P. C. in B.; but it may not be out of place to mention here what treatment he met with from some other ministers. Passing along the street in the city, he met, one day, the Rev. E. W. a clergyman of the Episcopal Methodist Church. This man addressed him in a very abrupt, rude, uncivil, ungentlemanly, and unchristian speech, of which the following is a literal extract. "You ought never to have been allowed to preach, and if I had the power you never should, nor any one like you. You may be a good christian and get to heaven, but a man who has fallen under the censure of mankind ought never to be elevated to the ministry." Surely the man who should dare to use such language to a fellow mortal, ought to be very pure himself. I wish the Rev. E. W. to remember this treatment which he gave to his fellow man, and be very careful not to fall under "the censure of mankind." And before he prepares to abuse and insult another man, let him take a little precaution, lest in judging others he should condemn himself. It is a very common fault of our nature, from which even the Rev. E. W. was not exempted, to magnify specks on the character of others into blots, and consider blots on our own as only specks.

About this time the author had commenced a series of publications in a certain Religious Periodical; but his name giving offence, he was desired by the Editor to substitute a fictitious, for his real signature, as his productions could no longer appear in his paper unless he did. This he said was the decision of the Committee of the paper, most of whom were clergymen. They had nothing against his writing for the paper, if he would suppress his name, but it would not comport with their views of propriety, to admit him to an equal privilege with themselves. The author from that time, withdrew his contributions from the columns of that periodical.

Now, in view of this treatment endured by the author, I have but few observations to make. His enemies were ministers, and other officers in the Church of Christ. They were under solemn obligations to do as they would be done by; and yet they perseveringly opposed a man who had never injured them, and because they could find nothing else against him, they harped on what had transpired more than ten years before. While they professed to love their neighbour, they wilfully did him an injury. With one hand they took him by the beard to kiss him, while the other was holding a pointed dagger. This shews what sinful beings are found on earth, and proves that many who profess to be the meek and humble followers of the Lamb, have hearts warmed with the blood of the Wolf. It is truly painful to dwell on such uncomely exhibitions of human character, and I should not have been so minute in these details did I not feel impelled by a sense of duty. I have trodden this thorny path myself, and for the benefit of those who may come after me, I wish to leave, at every turn in the road, this salutary maxim—Trust not in man. Many no doubt will consider my accounts of human nature too dark; but no one who has had experience in the school of poverty or dependence, will charge me with being an Acetic. I have no enmity against my species to draw me from a fair statement of facts, nor can I be induced to keep back, out of a false respect for mankind, a fair representation of those traits of character which lie hidden from ordinary view, like vipers under a rose bush. Believe my testimony, or doubt it; approve or condemn; call me friend or foe; God knows, and you will one day know, that I have declared nothing but what my ears have heard, my eyes seen, and my hands handled.

One paragraph more will close this part of my subject. One Sabbath as I was seated on my bench in my cell, spending the lonely hours in deep reflection on the miseries of life, and the unsympathizing temperament of the human heart, one of my cell-mates, more intelligent and observing than the others, very suddenly broke out into the following remarks:—

"Our sentences are various, but they should all be alike. Some of us are doomed here only for a series of years, but we ought all to have been sentenced for life. Some of us may live to get our liberty, but we ought all to die here. What interest has any one of us beyond these walls? What hope can we cherish of ever regaining the confidence of our fellow men? We have fallen and how can we rise? I have been taking an imaginary walk among men, carrying along with me the marks of my present condition, so that all might know where I have been. I have visited all classes, and all are alike. I have, all through my journey, laboured to do right, and give evidence that I have reformed. How have I been treated? I have been hissed by the multitude—despised by those who were once my equals—and trampled on by all.—The church has indeed recorded my name, but she placed me behind the door—and the minister always shunned me if he could.—Saints and sinners looked at me askance, and I have returned contented to live and die in prison, rather than go out and wither under the certain scorn of mankind."

II. My second proposition is, to shew how repentant criminals ought to be treated, according to the divine principle of the text.

It is recognized as a principle in the divine administration, that a bad man may become a good one. On this principle the whole system of the gospel turns. And when the happy change takes place, it is another principle of the same administration, to forgive the past transgressions, and mention them no more to the injury or confusion of the penitent. When the prodigal returns his rejoicing father thinks no more of his prodigality. This is the manner in which God treats his repenting children; and he makes his example a law for all his creatures. "If the wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had robbed, walk in the statutes of life without committing iniquity; he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of the sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned unto him; he hath done that which is lawful and right; he shall surely live." This is the law of heaven on this subject, and it ought to be obeyed. Christians pray to be pardoned as they pardon, and God assures us that if we do not pardon those who trespass against us, we shall not be pardoned for our sins against him. Hence the manner in which repentant and reforming sinners should be treated is obvious; and it is equally obvious that those who do not treat them according to this rule, are not christians.

III. My last proposition is, to shew the good that would flow from such treatment, not only to the penitents, but to the community, and the cause of religion.

1. The good that would flow to the penitents.

By such treatment they would be cheered and helped on in their process of reformation. A contrary course has driven many a man away from his pious resolutions, and caused him to return to the commission of crime. The heart of the penitent man is tender, and this sensibility is in proportion to the greatness of his sins. Then it can bear but little, whatever it may do afterwards. Before David's repentance, Nathan said to him—"Thou art the man!" but not afterwards. This was right; and the sinful monarch reformed. When the soul is torn by the lashes of conscience, it needs no other reprover. Then the heart is bleeding and needs not any other application than oil and wine. Its language is—"Have pity upon me! have pity upon me! O! ye my friends! for the hand of God hath touched me!"

No one knows these feelings better than myself; and I know, too, what it is to have the feelings of a broken and contrite heart, harrowed up by the unsympathizing hand of sneering, reproaching, and scornful professors. Well do I remember those hours of darkness and pain; and a thousand scars on my soul will never suffer the remembrance to die. And that my readers may have some idea of my feelings at that time, I will ask their indulgence to insert for their perusal the following extract of a hymn, composed in one of those seasons of self-condemnation and derided misery.

"Yes, I feel that I'm forgiven,
Mercy cheers my soul at last;
Yet my heart is always riven
When I think upon the past!

O the killing recollection!
How it withers up my soul!
What can blunt the keen reflection,
Or this aching breast console!

If my tears, I'd weep an ocean!
If my blood, I'd rend this heart!
Could I stop this dread emotion,
How with being would I part!

But the past—'tis past for ever!—
Yet, if suffer'd still to live,
Will the friends of Jesus never,
My repented deeds forgive?"

Such are the feelings of a contrite soul, when the painful remembrance of its sins is aggravated by the constant and unfeeling indications of a world's scorn.

Now, the treatment which such an individual ought to receive is expressed in the text, and such treatment would soften the flinty path of his return to virtue, and facilitate his progress. Many are now in the highway of a sinful career, whom such treatment would have saved from ruin. I know them well, and could call their names. They commenced a reform; they looked for encouragement; they leaned on the specious but deceptive professions of christian sympathy; but were disappointed in all. From the altar to the grog shop, and from the throne to the dunghill, they found that, though a sinner might find pardon, and his sins be forgotten in heaven, they will be kept in cruel remembrance on earth, and thrown in his face as long as he lives. This is more than feeble humanity can often endure. It is implied, and by an inspired writer too, that no one can bear a "wounded spirit." Who then can bear on an already "wounded spirit," the mountain of universal insult and scorn? Who can endure forever an hourly crucifixion on the contempt and derision of the whole world? Until christians become converted to the christianity of Jesus, the friend of sinners; and until all men act on the broad rule of doing as they would be done by, there can be but little hope of the reformation of any who have been considered sinners above all men, "because they have suffered such things."

The conduct of the mass of mankind towards those who have become notorious by their sins, is fitly represented by those animals which always fall on such of their species as are in distress and kill them. Even the warmest votaries of the penitentiary system—the members of the "Prison Discipline Society," as a body, treat the sons of guilt and crime as the inhabitants of the country towns in New-England treat their neighbour's unruly cattle,—thump them, dog them, shut them up in pound, and forever after give them a bad name.

Nothing can be more absurd than such conduct; and no course of treatment could be more pernicious in its effects. It must necessarily frustrate the most benevolent objects. Do all that can be done to reform the guilty while they are in confinement, by bread and water, chains and cells, and all the wonderful discipline of the lash and the lock-step, with the much better means of tracts, bibles, priests and sermons; but if they are left, on their release from prison, unprotected from the insults of mankind, and not helped to get into decent employment, nor surrounded by the kind attention of christians, nothing has been done effectually. The man should not be neglected in prison. That is the place to begin, but not to complete his reformation. Let mercy's angels meet him at the door of his cell as it opens to let him out, and let them be his guardian spirits through life; and then they may take him to heaven. The time of his release is the turning point in his moral history. Like the unclean spirit that went out of the man, if he has to go through dry places seeking rest and finding none, he will, from necessity, return to his house whence he came out; but if he is received as was the returning prodigal by his father, no more will be heard of his wanderings.

Christians! think of this. You who exhaust all science to compute the worth of one soul, and send the emanations of your love for sinners to the furthest verge of the other hemisphere, take a few thoughts for those of your own country. Look at home. And if all souls are of equal value, and he who converts one sinner from the error of his ways, saves a soul from death and hides a multitude of sins, try at least not to prevent the conversion of a sinner, by mentioning to him the sins of which he has repented.

2. The good that would flow to community.

It is presumed that a general exemplification of the principle laid down in the text, would not only prevent penitent offenders from relapsing into crime, but would fully confirm them in habits of virtue. In more than nine cases out of ten, this would be the happy result; while the opposite course would in full as many cases, lead to an opposite result. God always acts on this principle, and because he is good to all and his tender mercies are over all his work, his saints love him and praise him, and sinners are led to repentance. His kingdom is a kingdom of mercy. Every part of his administration is governed by mercy and love, and these traits of its character are visible every where—in the golden flood of morning, and the dark and howling demons of the midnight storm; in the soft and harmonious tones of the gospel, and the harsh and thundering notes of the gloomy and fiery mount. He is the Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger and of great kindness; keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin; but by no means clearing the guilty. He will not contend for ever nor be always wroth. He will not cast off for ever. His anger continues only for a moment, but his mercy is everlasting—it endureth for ever. When desired to display his glory, he shows his goodness. He loves not only his saints, he also commendeth his love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. And we are commanded to love our enemies, to bless them that curse us, to do good to them that hate us, and pray for them that despitefully use and persecute us; that we may be the children of our Father who is in heaven, who makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and unjust. Such being the principles of the divine administration, and such the certainty that they will result in the reconciliation of all beings to the Father, it is inferentially presumable that the same principles fully acted out by men, would produce the same happy and desirable results.

If these remarks and inferences are just, then the good that would result to community by exemplifying the principle in the text is obvious. It would exchange bad men for good ones. It would throw a wall of security around its institutions, its peace, its prosperity and its virtue, stronger than mountains of brass. Under such a firmament of heavenly principles and conduct,

"All crimes would cease and ancient fraud would fail,
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;
Peace o'er the earth her olive wand extend,
And white-rob'd Innocence from heaven descend;
The world would smile with boundless bounty bless'd,
And God's pure image glow in ev'ry breast."

Towards this glorious state of society I confidently look, with the strong emotions of a fixed and unwavering faith; but I invariably associate it with the universal prevalence of benevolent principles and beneficent deeds. Good will to all mankind must be the inspiring motive of every action. The shepherd must go into the wilderness after his lost sheep, and rejoice when he returns with it; and the father must go out to meet his returning prodigal.

3. The good that would flow to the cause of religion by such conduct, is my last topic.

It would be redeemed from the charge of inconsistency. Religion is judged of by the conduct of its professed friends, and condemned or applauded from their exhibitions of it. Every inconsistency in their conduct is written as a mark against their creed, and all their excellences are placed to its credit. The truth of this no one will deny. What verdict then will mankind render against a religion, the professors of which continue in a course of conduct which crosses their principles at every step? How can they call that a good religion, which does not exert sufficient influence over its votaries to make them even consistent? But if the friends of religion act according to their principles, and never depart from those maxims of propriety which they inculcate on others, they will at least obtain for their religion the credit of consistency. Now the text contains one of the principles of the Christian religion, and all who profess to be christians acknowledge it to be genuine; but where is their consistency if they depart from it in practice? Christians, will you be consistent? For God's sake let the blessed Jesus be wounded no longer in the house of his friends!

This course would also stop the triumphs of Infidelity. This monster subsists on the faults of professors, and his triumphal car is stained with the blood of christian wars. Preach to him the excellences of your faith till the day of doom, and by one single reference, he can silence the most eloquent tongue. He unfolds the long catalogue of sainted crimes, and the christian must be dumb. The christian conduct cannot be vindicated on the christian's principles, and the enemy can be put to silence only by the abstract excellence of the faith which he despises. Between christianity and christians there must be a distinctive line drawn, or they will obscure its brightness and beauty by the association. When they come up in their doings to the high, pure, and stainless criterion of their professed principles, then, and not till then, will Infidelity be put to the blush.

It is high time to commence a reform in the conduct of professors; and no where is this reform more needed than in the principle of the text. I will not stop to argue this point, for no one dares deny it. Look abroad, christians, and see the characters specified in the verse read at the commencement of this discourse, roving up and down the earth. How are they treated? How do you treat them? Who wipes their tears? who gives them a shelter from the rude storms of winter? who gives them a kind look or a civil word? who leads them into the vineyard in the morning and gives them a penny at night? Rather who does not shun them?—insult them?—spurn them from his door?—force them to die in innocence or live by crime? Who dares confront these charges? You that kneel at the altar of Jesus, and commemorate his dying love, are you innocent? Ministers of the everlasting gospel, are your garments clean? Missionary, Tract, Bible and Prison Discipline Societies, how stands your accounts? Christians of every rank and denomination, when have you fed, clothed, ministered to, and visited your hungry, naked, sick, and imprisoned Jesus in the person of his followers? In the name of Jesus Christ, then, and for the honor of his cause, I pray you, in behalf of repentant criminals, to REFORM.

In concluding this Essay, which has cost me many a painful hour, I cannot help remarking the vast difference that exists between the conduct of God and of his creatures, in relation to repentant sinners. He not only pardons, he also forgets; but men do neither. My experience on this subject leads me to results very different from those which the sanguine professions of christians led me to anticipate. Such is the gloomy fact, and I must endure it. From man, even the man of the altar and the desk, I have nothing to hope for. Within the limits of the wide world, and beneath the heavens, my prospects are as dark as the "noon of night;" despair has hung her dreadful curtains round all things, and in its chilling, stiffening shade, the frost of endless blight is fast gathering upon me. I meet at every turn the scorn of every eye, and I have only to bury myself in some distant clime, till my race on earth shall close. "O for a lodge in some vast wilderness!"

But though all earth is dark, and mankind will be my enemies for ever, there is a God who will never desert any that trust in him; and conscious that he loves me, and will defend me, I will endure without a murmur all the evils of life, and wait all the days of my appointed time till my change come; in the humble hope, that, in the grave, I shall not hear the voice of the oppressors, and that the reproaches and scorn of mankind, which is too much for me to bear on earth, will not follow me into the world to come.

Fly swift, ye intervening days,
Lord, send the summons down;
The hand that strikes me to the earth,
Shall raise me to a crown.

THE CONNEXION BETWEEN INTEMPERANCE AND CRIME, AS VISIBLE IN PRISON.

Intemperance is not the cause of every crime that is committed, though it is of very many of them. It is itself one of the greatest of crimes. It is a violation of not one law only, but of many. The drunkard outrages the law of his nature, tramples on the laws of morality, and flings contempt on the law of the Almighty; and it is not at all wonderful that so manifold a sin should meet with a various and adequate retribution. Intemperance unfits its votaries for every thing good, and qualifies them for, and spurs them onward to the commission of every base and sinful work; and it is impossible to estimate the crimes it has committed, or the miseries it has produced. I saw, in the Windsor Prison, many of the criminal votaries of this Moloch of modern idolatry, and my soul was often severely pained in contemplating the certain and lasting misery with which he rewarded his most faithful worshippers. I have not time, in this place, to enter into a full discussion of the connexion of intemperance with the crimes and misery of state prisons; but I will present a few striking illustrations of the subject, which may answer in the place of a volume.

L. N. was a very intemperate drinker. Rum had marked him for her own. He had worshipped his idol in gaols and prisons for a thousand miles round; and he was always punctual and regular in his devotions. The consequence was—the loss of public confidence—a straw pillow for his head, and a grated dungeon for his home—the pollution of his soul, and the ruin of his body—a death in shrieks of agony, and a prison-yard for his grave.

C. C. learned while a youth to drink the poisoned glass. He was well educated, and of a respectable family. His habit of intemperate drinking unfitted him for business, and he became the scoff and scorn of the giddy rabble. He fled his country for a crime, and remained at a distance for years, adding sin to sin. At length he returned home and repeated his former crime, for which he was sent to Windsor.

No one can describe the pain he endured when taken away from the bottle. "Horrors!—Blue horrors!—Ruffled horrors!" were the words in which he expressed the agony of his body and soul, under the cravings of an intemperate thirst for rum. After several years he was pardoned, but he returned to his former habit; and in one of his paroxysms of intoxication he inflicted a mortal wound on a fellow-being, and was sent back to prison, where he now is.

B. F. H. was a victim of drunkenness. Few men ever received from the hand of their Creator a richer store of intellectual capacity than this man, and on none were such gems more wastefully lavished. He abandoned a most amiable wife; and after spending many years in different prisons, the last I heard of him he was fitting for another. Over this victim, intemperance might boast, for he was like a star of superior brightness; he was learned, ingenious, and eloquent, qualified for a high station, but self-damned to the lowest.

P. D. illustrated very affectingly the legitimate consequences of intemperance. After he became its victim, it made him the author of a crime for which he was sent to prison for eighteen months. When this term had expired, he enjoyed liberty about three months, during which time he added another crime to the effects of rum, for which he was sent back to prison for three years. When these had expired, he was let out into the fields of liberty again; but in less than seven hours he was in gaol for a crime which he had had but just time enough to get drunk and commit, and in less than seven days he was back again in prison for six years.

This was entirely the effect of rum. He was not a criminal of choice, but when filled with rum, he would always steal. I never knew a man of better or purer moral feelings, when he was sober; and what is by no means common, he had such a sense of the crimes he committed, that he justified his punishment, and always considered it merciful. What a pity that such a man should have been ruined by intemperance.

I need not dwell on particular cases.—How great a proportion of the crimes which sent so many prisoners to Windsor, were directly or indirectly caused by the sin of intemperate drinking, I have not sufficient data to ascertain; but I have no hesitation in saying, that one half of the entire number would never have been in that gloomy mansion, if there never had been any intoxicating liquors. The victims of this prevailing sin, which I saw in that dreary house, are passing through the field of memory, and they appear like the armies of Gog and Magog. It would be well for the dealers in this ruinous article to dwell a few minutes every night on the moral character of their employment. They are earning their daily bread, and growing rich, on the profits of a poison which sends the body of the purchaser through flames of torment to an untimely grave, and prepares his soul for the miseries of the second death.—Let rum, and all the family of intoxicating drinks, be banished from the land, and half the rooms in our prisons will be soon found without an inhabitant.

I have known many prisoners who had gone to such excess in drinking, that for a year after they came into prison they endured a trembling of their hands, and a burning thirst for rum, which rendered their existence a real curse. Very many have I heard lamenting their crimes as having been occasioned by rum. Their language was—"If it had not been for liquor, I should not have done so;" and this was no doubt the fact. But though the prisoners so deeply lament their past folly and sin in drinking, it is not easy to cure them of it. After spending years in prison, and after many a "dolorous lament" over the effects of intoxication—after writing and publishing against intemperance, it is no strange thing to hear that they are drunk the day they are released. With one instance of this kind I will close this article. B. F. H. while in prison, wrote several essays on the sin of intemperance, to which he had been given, and delivered an oration on the subject in the prison chapel; and he professed to have been thoroughly reformed. Through the influence of his friends he was pardoned, and the journal of the prison contains the following entry in respect to him;—"Benj. F. Harwood pardoned—returned at night—DRUNK."