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are alternately sinful and holy. But the opposite of all this is, in my apprehension, a self evident truth. If a person can at any time exercise a sinful affection, one for which he is justly considered criminal, this may be his first, as well as any subsequent moral exercise. And if he is capable of exercising a sinful affection intermingled with those which are holy, he is equally capable of exercising sinful af fections constantly. You my friend never thought of objecting to the goodness of God, because he has always been holy, or because he is perfectly holy. But if the eternal and perfect holiness of God is not inconsistent with his free agency and praise worthiness, the early and the total depravity of sinners is no objection to their free agency or blame worthiness. Sim. But after all, friend Justin is there evidence that mankind are in fact totally depraved. I admit that you have given, to say the least, a plausible answer to the objections which I have made to this doctrine. But I ought not certainly to admit it as true, unless I can see some positive evidence in its favour.

Jus. By no means. I have been the more prolix in my an swers to your objections, because I thought these were operating to prevent your serious and candid attention to the evidence in favor of the doctrine. If these are effectually removed, you will, I am persuaded, immediately perceive ample evidence in support of it.

As, however, I have but a moment more to spend with you, at the present time, I shall merely direct your attention to a very few of the leading facts which convince me that all mankind are totally depraved. in the sense in which I have explained this term. This, in the first place, is the obvious import of the scriptures, on this subject. Solomon says, "The heart of the sons of men is full of evil." Paul says, "The carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Christ said to the Jews, whose hearts. were undoubtedly like those of other men in a state of nature, "I know you that ye have not the love of God in you." 2. This obvious import of the scriptures agrees exactly with what we are taught by our own experience.When we consider what the law of God requires, and compare the feelings of which we are the subjects, in an unrenewed state, we may perceive at once, that they are all wrong. Selfishness, in some form or other, is the ruling passion of which we are conscious. We know that we do not love God above every other object. And we are equally conscious, that we do not love our neighbor as ourselves. Although we are expressly commanded to love our enemies, and although we perceive the duty and propriety of this command; yet we know that we naturally hate them. I will only add, 3. Our

observations, so far as it extends, to a friend's house at some dis

confirms what the scriptures and our own experience teach respecting human depravity. Mankind in their natural state uniformly appear to feel and act as though they were destitute of those holy affections, which they are required to exercise, and to be entirely under the influence of others which are of an opposite nature. To give a single instance to illus. trate this truth: They appear to love the world. But it is written "If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him."

FATAL EFFECTS OF DEISM.

Illustrated in the conduct of William Beadle of Weathersfield, Con. who closed the sacrifice of

his wife and children with his own destruction.

The following account of the tragical scene is taken from an Appendix, attributed to the Hon. Judge Mitchell, to the sermon, delivered by the Rev. John Marsh, D. D. at the funeral of Mrs. Beadle and her four children.

"He fixed on the night succeeding the 18th of Nov. 1782, for the execution of his nefarious purpose, and procured a supper of oysters of which the family ate very plentifully. That evening he writes as follows. I have prepared a noble supper of oys ters, that my flock and I may eat and drink together, thank God, and die.' After supper he sent the maid with a studied errand

tance, directing her to stay until she obtained an answer to an insignificant letter he wrote his friend, intending she should not return that evening. She did however return. Perhaps her return disconcerted him, and prevented him for that time. The next day pistols to a smith

he carried his for repair. It may be, the ill condition of his pistols might be an additional reason for the delay. On the evening of the 10th of Dec. some persons were with him at his house to whom he appeared as cheerful and serene as usual. He attended to the little affairs of his family as if nothing uncommon was in contemplation. The company left him about 9 o'clock in the evening, when he was urgent as usual for their stay.— Whether he slept that night is uncertain; but it is believed he went to bed. The children and maid slept in one chamber. the grey of the morning of the 11th of Dec. he went to their bed chamber, awakened the maid and ordered her to arise gently without disturbing the children. When she came down stairs, he gave her a line to the family physician, who lived at the distance of a quarter of a mile, ordered her to carry it immediately, at the same time declaring that Mrs. Beadle had been ill all night, and directing her to stay until the physician should come. with her. This he repeated sundry times with a degree of ardor.

In

There is much reason to believe fired them at the same instant.

he had murdered Mrs. Beadle before he awakened the maid. Upon the maids' leaving the house he immediately proceeded to execute his purpose on the children and himself. It appears he had for some time before carried to his bed side, every night, an axe and a carving knife. He smote his wife and each of the children with the axe on the side of the head as they lay sleeping in their beds. The woman had two wounds in the head.

The skull of each of them was fractured. He then with the carving knife cut their throats from ear to ear. The woman and little boy were drawn partly over the side of their beds as if to prevent the bedding from being besmeared with blood. The three daughters were taken from the bed and laid upon the floor, side by side, like three lambs before their throats were cut. They were covered with a blanket and the woman's face with a handkerchief. He then proceeded to the lower floor of the house, leaving marks of his footsteps in blood on the stairs, carrying with him the axe and knife. The latter he laid upon the table in the room, where he was found, reeking with the blood of his family. Perhaps he thought he might use it against himself, if his pistols should fail. It appears he then seated himself in a windsor chair with his arms supported by the arms of the chair. He fixed the muzzles of the pistols into his two ears and

man.

The balls went through the head in transverse directions. Although the neighbors were very near and some of them awake, none heard the report of the pistols.The line to the physician obscurely announced the intentions of the The house was soon opened, but alas, too late. The bodies were pale and motionless, swimming in their blood, their faces as white as mountain snow, yet life seemed to tremble on their lips. Description can do no more than faintly ape and trifle with the real figure.

Such a tragical scene filled every mind with the deepest distress. Nature recoiled and was on the rack with distorting passions.-The most poignant sorrow and tender pity for the lady and her innocent babes, who were the hapless victims of the brutal, studied cruelty of a husband and father in whose embraces they expected to find security, melted every heart.

Shocking effects of pride and false notions about religion!

To paint the first transports which this affecting scene produced, when the house was opened, is beyond my reach. Multitudes of all ages and sexes were drawn together by the sad tale.-The very inmost souls of the beholders were wounded at the sight and torn by contending passions. Silent grief, with marks of astonishment were succeeded by furious indignation against the author of the affecting spectacle, which ven

ted itself in coherent exclamations.
Some old soldiers, accidentally
passing through the town that
morning, on their way from camp
to visit their friends, led by curi-
osity, turned in to view the sad
remains. On the sight of the
woman and her tender offspring,
notwithstanding all their firmness,
the tender sympathetic tears
stealing gently down their furrow-
ed cheeks, betrayed the anguish of
their hearts. On being shown the
body of the sacrificer, they paused
a moment, then mattering forth
an oath or two of execration, with
their eyes fixed on the ground in
silent sorrow, they slowly went
their way. So awful and terrible
a disaster wrought wonderfully on
the minds of the neighborhood,
nature herself seemed ruffled and
refused the kindly aid of balmy
sleep for a time. To adopt the
language of Dr. Marsh from his
sermon at the funeral, "pride, im-
patience and cowardice first led
him to think of destroying himself
and family and operated powerful-
ly in bringing him to determine
upon it.
He had a high opinion
of his intellectual abilities and was
uneasy with the meanness of his
personal appearance and slender-
ness of his fortune. He writes--
'my person is small and mean to
look on and my circumstances
were always rather narrow, which
were great disadvantages in this
world; but I have great reason
to think that my soul is above the
common mould. There are but

ew men capable of deism. They

are when found like a diamond among a million of pebbles." " Such were the vain and wretched sentiments of this deluded and pitiable monster of a man!

a

William Beadle, it appears, was a native of the County of Essex in the island of Great Britain. In early life he became acquainted with a deistical club in the city of London, from which he probably imbibed these pernicious ideas, which issued in the awful catastrophe as before related. He was avowedly both a deist and fatalist and has left many writings in vindication of his erroneous opinions, which at present, are in the possession of the Rev. John Chester of the city of Hudson.-Mrs. Beadle a native of Plymouth in Massachusetts, was from a respectable family, "a comely person, of good address, well bred, unusually serene, sincere, unaffected, and sensible." She came to her melancholy end in the thirty third year of her age. The oldest of her children, a son, was in his twelfth year, and the youngest, in her seventh."

From the Utica Repository.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS IN THE NINE-
TEENTH CENTURY-BY BUNYANUS.

CHAPTER III.

While Thoughtful thus went on with a moderate pace, I observed anoner person coming after him, with a quicker step; and as he drew near, I perceived that

Thoughtful knew him, and addres-
sed him by name :
Th. How is this, neighbor Ar-
dent? I understood that you had
gone on pilgrimage long since.

Ardent. Oh, my friend, I can
never be sufficiently thankful that
I am here.
I have been greatly
deceived, and well nigh lost for

ever.

Th. How did that happen? Did you not take directions from Evangelist, and receive a book from him which contained a map of the way?

Ard. He told me that the doc trines which Evangelist preached were gloomy and discouraging, and that it was do wonder that the inhabitants of our city disliked them. He said, that Evangelist gave such directions as were adapted to prevent people from setting out on pilgrimage, and likely to drive them to despair.And indeed, this was just as I had mysel thought of them, and so I listened to him the more readily. So he told me that there was ૧ way into the way, which was both easy and safe; and that he could furnish me with a guide, called Repentance who would accompany me as far as I had need of him. Then he called one to be my guide, whose name I afterwards learned was Falsc-repentance. So

Ard. Yes. But I did not pay much regard to the directions of Evangelist, nor to the book which he gave me; for, to my shame be it spoken, I did not relish either. Th. From whom then did you take directions? Ard. From Mr. Blind-guide.— I thanked him for his kindness and He goes about you know, through set out. My guide then conductour city and its suburbs, imitating ed me through a by-path, up the Evangelist, and urging people to hill of Selfish-sorrow, in the neighgo on pilgrimage. Soon after I borhood of Mount Sinai, and led had heard Evangelist preach, and me to a village which he called began to feel the danger of re- Peace-in-believing, near the town maining in our city, I had an op- of Morality, into which I entered portunity of hearing Mr. Blind- by a gate which was called the guide, and was much better pleas- gate of Experience. But I have ed with his preaching. So, after since learned that the true name I had resolved to go on pilgrim- of the village is False-peace, and age, being dissatisfied with the of the gate Delusion. Here my directions of Evangelist, which conductor left me, telling me that appeared to me exceedingly dis- I was now in the way into the couraging, I took an opportunity way, and advising me to remain of speaking to Mr. Blind-guide, here for a season at the house of from whom I hoped for something Mr. Self-confidence, with whom he more agreeable. assured me I should spend my Th. And what did he say to time very agreeably. So I remained at the house of Mr. Self

you?

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