A Gentleman in America.—“A man of my acquaintance,” says Dr. Dwight, “who was of a vehement and rigid temper, had, many years since, a dispute with a friend of his, a professor of religion, and had been injured by him. With strong feelings of resentment, he made him a visit, for the avowed purpose of quarrelling with him. He accordingly stated the nature and extent of the injury; and was preparing, as he afterwards confessed, to load him with a train of severe reproaches, when his friend cut him short by acknowledging, with the utmost readiness and frankness, the injustice of which he had been guilty; expressing his own regret for the wrong he had done, requesting his forgiveness, and proffering him ample compensation. He was compelled to say that he was satisfied, and withdrew full of mortification that he had been precluded from venting his indignation and wounding his friend with keen and violent reproaches for his conduct.
“As he was walking homeward, he said to himself to this effect: ‘There must be something more in religion than I have hitherto suspected. Were any man to address me in the tone of haughtiness and provocation with which I accosted my friend this morning, it would be impossible for me to preserve the equanimity of which I have been a witness; and especially with so much frankness, humility and meekness, to acknowledge the wrong which I had done; so readily ask forgiveness of the man whom I had injured; and so cheerfully promise a satisfactory recompense. I should have met his anger with at least equal resentment, paid him reproach for reproach, and inflicted wound for wound. There is something in this man’s disposition which is not mine. There is something in the religion which he professes, and which I am forced to believe he feels; something which makes him so superior, so much better, so much more amiable, than I can pretend to be. The subject strikes me in a manner to which I have hitherto been a stranger. It is high time to examine it more thoroughly, with more candor, and with greater solicitude, also, than I have done hitherto.’
“From this incident, a train of thoughts and emotions commenced in the mind of this man, which terminated in his profession of the Christian religion, his relinquishment of the business in which he was engaged, and his consecration of himself to the ministry of the gospel.”
A Quaker.—A gay young man, travelling in a stage coach to London, forced his deistical sentiments on the company, by attempting to ridicule the Scriptures; and, among other topics, made himself merry with the story of David and Goliath, strongly urging the impossibility of a youth like David being able to throw a stone with sufficient force to sink into the giant’s forehead. On this he appealed to the company, and particularly to a grave Quaker gentleman, who sat silent in one corner of the carriage. “Indeed, friend,” replied he, “I do not think it at all impossible, if the Philistine’s head was as soft as thine.” This grave rebuke reduced the young man to silence.
An Aged Minister.—A venerable minister at H—— preached a sermon on the subject of future punishment. On the next day it was agreed among some thoughtless young men, that one of them should go to him, and endeavor to draw him into a dispute, with the design of making a jest of him and of his doctrine. The wag accordingly went, was introduced into the minister’s study, and commenced the conversation by saying, “I believe there is a small dispute between you and me, sir, and I thought I would call this morning and try to settle it.” “Ha!” said the clergyman, “what is it?” “Why,” replied the wag, “you say that the wicked will go into punishment, and I do not think that they will.” “Oh, if that is all,” said the minister, “there is no dispute between you and me. If you turn to Matt. xxv. 46, you will find that the dispute is between you and the Lord Jesus Christ, and I advise you to go immediately and settle it with him.”
A Countryman.—It has often been a matter of wonder, that the principles and reasonings of infidels, though frequently accompanied with great natural and acquired abilities, are seldom known to make any impression upon thoughtful people. It is said of a deceased gentleman, who was eminent in the literary world, that in early life he drank deeply of the free-thinking scheme. He and one of his companions, of the same turn of mind, often carried on their conversations in the hearing of a religious but illiterate countryman. This gentleman afterwards became a true Christian, and felt concerned for the countryman, lest his faith in Christianity should have been shaken. One day, therefore, he asked him, whether what had so frequently been advanced in his hearing, had not produced this effect upon him. “By no means,” answered the countryman; “it never made the least impression upon me.” “No impression upon you!” said the gentleman; “why, you must have known that we had read and thought on these things much more than you had any opportunity of doing.” “Oh, yes,” replied the man; “but I knew also your manner of living; I knew that to maintain such a course of conduct, you found it necessary to renounce Christianity.”