Lefevre's quick eye, still searching his countenance, observed it "O Wallis," said he, "attend to me!--I have little to say in this world!-There is hope for you. Doubt not the truth of religion. I tried to doubt, but I don't doubt now! I feel there is a God whom I have offended. I feel there is a heaven I have lost. I feel there is a hell-I have the witness here (striking his breast)-O do not trifle as I have done as you have done-renounce the world-fly to the Saviour. Brave not the terrors of God! I could brave more than you-but see what I am! The finger of God crushes me like a moth!-O 'tis à terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God!"

Wallis was somewhat confounded at this personal address, made in such a confident tone, before so many witnesses. However, with his self-reposing, uninquiring temper, uneasiness never dwelt long; and to deliver himself from it the sooner, he referred all Lefevre had said to insanity.

Meanwhile he and Lefevre's uncle

were relieved from the strangeness of a sick room, a place they scarcely ever visited, by the arrival of a physician. They had requested his attendance on their way, and now hastened to give him his instructions. They assured him that the patient's complaints, whatever they were, were brought on by absurd religious notions. That he had the misfortune to get acquainted with some methodistical people, who had bewildered his head; and that there was no hope for him, unless he were separated from them.

Thus prepossessed, the worthy practitioner found little difficulty in deciding on the disease-it was religious frenzy. The remedy was to correspond with this predication. In addition to a medicinal prescription, he was to be kept quiet, and not to see anybody, (that is, as was understood by the parties, not anybody of a certain character,)—all methodistical books were to be put from his sight-his attention was to be diverted, wholly, if possible, from religion-and, as the fever should subside, he was to be entertained with cheerful company, and worldly amusements.

Supported by such authority, the uncle (Mr. Perry) resolved immediately on his measures. He saw no way of fulfilling the physician's directions, as Lefevre was now circumstanced; he, therefore, determined to carry him to his own residence. That residence was a tavern in the neighbourhood of the city; a place not well suited, it must be confessed, to an invalid. But Mr. Perry was never troubled with any little scruples of delicacy. He was a man of rough manners, gross perceptions, and positive opinions. If people saw with him, why they were right and good for something; if they did not, they were fools, and he could not help it. His intentions, however, were generally honest; and, if he now resolved on removing his nephew, he did it in kindness, and for his welfare. He had a sort of natural antipathy to methodists, (so he called, without exception, all who showed any concern for religion,) for which he could not account, and which he was willing to cherish. He was sure no good could come where they were, and he rejoiced in his heart, that he should be able to foil them.

Accordingly his purpose was announced in the spirit which conceived it. Lefevre had relapsed into insensibility, and could offer no opposition. Douglas, knowing his sentiments towards his uncle, ventured to remonstrate, as far as he could, where the claims of relationship were interposed; but it affected Mr. Perry, as the most rational remonstrance always affected him, when he had once spoken his mindit only transformed his resolution to obstinacy. He was pleased, indeed, rather than otherwise, to know the step would inflict the vexation he desired; and, without loss of time, he and Wallis conveyed the unresisting, unhappy Lefevre, from his own apartments to those of his relative.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THUS separated from his friends, Lefevre passed two days almost in solitude. Those who had been most associated with him in folly, seemed to forget his very existence. Wallis had been content to send a servant to inquire after his health; and his uncle satisfied himself, with procuring the best advice, and ordering the best nourishment for him. This was truly as much as might be expected from such a person. He was a merry fellow and a bon vivant; how could he bear to be con fined with the 'sick? Besides, he had the same antipathy to a sick-chamber, as he had to all methodism; and very possibly it sprang from the same causes.

Lefevre's religious friends would still have supplied the deficiencies of his worldly connections; but their efforts were una