bad place, and endeavour to persuade us not to go; I have heard that a person may learn as much by seeing a good play, as by hearing a good sermon. A good play did you say? there are none good, no not one. Virtue is painted in an angel's form and Vice wears the shape of the devil. Religion is ridiculed, and serious things treated with mockery and contempt. Can you learn at a theatre that the heart is deceitful? that your natures are depraved? that man is not what he was when he came from the hands of his Creator? Did you ever hear at a theatre that you were poor, lost and guilty sinners; that without a Saviour, without pardon of sin and holiness of heart, you must be miserable forever?

But says another, it a place of diversion, and we are not always to be thinking about religion; we should be poor moping melancholy crea tures if we were always thinking on that which is good. True, it is a place of diversion, a place of sinful pleasure, and of guilty joy, where you feast your eyes with evil, you ears with profaneness, your hearts with impurity and sin all your depraved passions are excited to the uttermost.

Are there no pleasures equal to those of a theatre? can an immortal soul be satisfied with such vain delights? there are no pleasures equal to those which religion, which early piety can give; these are suitable, solid, innocent and

lasting: they will bear repeating, they will endure forever.

I do not go often to the theatre. But why go at all? A play is such a bewitching, captivating thing, that when you have been once, you will want to go again: the eye is never satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing. If I do go I will take care to sit where I can easily escape? But however good your situation may be, you may be prevented from escaping; where you think yourself most secure, you may be in the greatest danger.

But there are no less than "sixteen ways" of escape, if the theatre should take fire; the doors open "outward and inward," so that there would be no danger. Notwithstanding all these doors and windows, you may be in danger: you do not consider, that upon the alarm of fire, what confusion, what agitation of mind follows on such occasions; if all these means of safety could be employed, yet such would be the state of mind, that amidst the bustle they would be forgotten. Drury Lane theatre in London was burnt, notwithstanding every means used to prevent it. It would be almost a miracle if all these doors could be opened, and amidst the crowd and hurry of escape some were not beat down, and trodden under feet; who so likely as the fainting female, or the little boy and if one life were lost, can you tell that it would not be yours?

Q

But my parents, my companions go; they think there is no harm, no danger in attending the theatre, why should I? I shall be as safe as they; do you think they would go if there was any harm or danger? Too many persons think only of the pleasure, and forget the pain; if they can taste the sweet of a play, they run the hazard of swallowing the bitter with it. So intent were the inhabitants of Richmond on the pleasures of the theatre, that they forgot those means of safety which might have been provided; "had it not been many times said, when they were slowly going out at the end of a play, Suppose the house were on fire, what should we do?" They were thoughtless of the danger; they delayed to open new doors, to make the narrow winding stair-case, open, strait, and wide: they "trusted and were ruined!" they perished at last, as they think, by their own neglect; but it was the hand of God alone. But to suppose the worst, and I should lose my life and perish in the flames, I am safe after all; I shall go to Heaven; I read these words, written by a gentleman at Richmond"Yes, all Richmond is in tears; children have lost their parents, parents have lost their children. Yesterday, a beloved daughter gladdened my heart with her innocent smiles; to-day she is in Heaven; God gave her to me, and God-yes, it has pleased Almighty God to take her from me. O sir, feel for me; and not for me only; arm yourself with fortitude,

whilst I discharge the mournful duty of telling you, that you have to feel also for yourself. Yes, for it must be told, you also were the father of an amiable daughter, now like my beloved child, gone to join her mother in Heaven. O moment of inexpressible horror! Nothing I can say, can paint the awful, shocking, maddening scene. The images of both my dear children were before me; but I was removed by an impassible crowd from the dear sufferers. The youngest, with gratitude to Heaven I write it, sprang towards the voice of her papa, reached my assisting hand, and was extricated from the overwhelming mass that soon choked the passage by the stairs; but no efforts could avail me to reach, or even gain sight of the other; and my dear, dear Margaret, and your sweet Mary, with her companions Miss Gwathmey and Miss Gatewood, passed together and at once into a happier world."

Whatever influence these expressions may have had upon your minds, it is my duty to remove them. The young persons here spoken of are unknown to me: but if they were like other young persons who generally attend the amusements of the theatre, however beautiful or lovely in their person, however amiable in their disposition, and moral in their conduct, yet, if they were strangers to the grace of God, if their hearts were not renewed and their sins not pardoned, if they were lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, my Bible tells me,

they are not in Heaven. The fondness of a parent's love may think, or rather wish them there, but if they were not beloved by their hea venly Father, as well as their earthly parents, they are not the inhabitants of that place, where "there is fulness of joy, and where there are pleasures forevermore." They might be ignorant of the danger of attending in a theatre; but I think no pious parents would permit their children to attend at a place so dangerous and injurious to their morals, their reputation, and their souls.

It is the duty of parents to put their children in mind of these things. I would much rather meet death in any other place than a theatre. Therefore, my young friends, take heed, be not carried away with the hasty expressions of mourning, affectionate parents: "Be not deceiv ed, whatsoever a man soweth, that he shall also reap ; for those that sow to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; and he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting."

And now, my dear young friends, let me earnestly exhort you to seek such amusements as are healthy, innocent and useful: that of jumping a rope, driving a hoop, or running around the field trying to catch one another, is not so dangerous as some that have been mentioned; but above all, avoid, as you would a serpent, the amusement of the theatre: yes, for even the play of George Barnwell which has