Dr. Barlow came to the Grove to take leave of our friends. He found Sir John and I sitting in the library with Mr. Stanley. "As I came from Mr. Tyrrel," said the Doctor, "I met Mr. Flam going to see him. He seemed so anxious about his old friend that a wish strongly presented itself to my mind that the awful situation of the sick man might be salutary to him.

"It is impossible to say," continued he, "what injury religion has suffered from the opposite characters of these two men. Flam, who gives himself no concern about the matter, is kind and generous; while Tyrrel, who has made a high profession, is mean and sordid. It has been said, of what use is religion when morality has made Mr. Flam a better man than religion makes Mr. Tyrrel? Thus men of the world reason! But nothing can be more false than their conclusions. Flam is naturally an open, warm-hearted man, but incorrect in many respects, and rather loose in his principles. His natural good propensities religion would have improved into solid virtues, and would have cured the more exceptionable parts of his character. But from religion he stands aloof.

"Tyrrel is naturally narrow and selfish. Religion has not made but found him such. But what a religion has he adopted! A mere assumption of terms; a dead, inoperative, uninfluencing notion, which he has taken up; not, I hope, with a view to deceive others, but by which he has grossly deceived himself. He had heard that religion was a cure for an uneasy mind; but he did not attend to the means by which the cure is effected, and it relieved not him.

"The corrupt principle whence his vices proceeded was not subdued. He did not desire to subdue it, because in the struggle he must have parted with what he was resolved to keep. He adopted what he believed was a cheap and easy religion; little aware that the great fundamental Scripture doctrine of salvation by Jesus Christ was a doctrine powerfully opposing our corruptions, and involving in its comprehensive requirements a new heart and a new life."

At this moment Mr. Flam called at the Grove. "I am just come from Tyrrel," said he. "I fear it is nearly over with him. Poor Ned! he is very low, almost in despair. I always told him that the time would come when he would be glad to exchange notions for actions. I am grieved for him. The remembrance of a kind deed or two done to a poor tenant would be some comfort to him now at a time when every man stands in need of comfort."

"Sir," said Dr. Barlow, "the scene which I have lately witnessed at Mr. Tyrrel's makes me serious. If you and I were alone, I am afraid it would make me bold. I will, however, suppress the answer I was tempted to make you, because I should not think it prudent or respectful to utter before company what, I am persuaded, your good sense would permit me to say were we alone!"

"Doctor," replied the good-tempered, but thoughtless man, "don't stand upon ceremony. You know I love a debate, and I insist on your saying what was in your mind to say. I don't fear getting out of any scrape you can bring me into. You are too well-bred to offend, and I hope I am too well-natured to be easily offended. Stanley, I know, always takes your side. Sir John, I trust, will take mine; and so will the young man here, if he is like most other young men."

"Allow me then to observe," returned Dr. Barlow, "that if Mr. Tyrrel has unhappily deceived himself by resting too exclusively on a mere speculative faith—a faith which by his conduct did not evince itself to be of the right sort—yet, on the other hand, a dependence for salvation on our own benevolence, our own integrity, or any other good quality we may possess, is an error not less fatal, and far more usual. Such a dependence does as practically set at naught the Redeemer's sacrifice as the avowed rejection of the infidel. Honesty and benevolence are among the noblest qualities; but where the one is practiced for reputation, and the other from mere feeling, they are sadly delusive as to the ends of practical goodness. They have both indeed their reward; integrity, in the credit it brings, and benevolence, in the pleasure it yields. Both are beneficial to society: both therefore are politically valuable. Both sometimes lead me to admire the ordinations of that overruling power which often uses as instruments of public good, men who, acting well in many respects, are essentially useful to others; but, who, acting from motives merely human, forfeit for themselves that high reward which those virtues would obtain, if they were evidences of a lively faith, and the results of Christian principle. Think me not severe, Mr. Flam. To be personal is always extremely painful to me."

"No, no, Doctor," replied he, "I know you mean well. 'Tis your trade to give good counsel; and your lot, I suppose, to have it seldom followed. I shall hear you without being angry. You, in turn, must not be angry, if I hear you without being better."

"I respect you, sir, too much," replied Dr. Barlow, "to deceive you in a matter of such infinite importance. For one man who errs on Mr. Tyrrel's principle, a hundred err on yours. His mistake is equally pernicious, but it is not equally common. I must repeat it. For one whose soul is endangered through an unwarranted dependence on the Saviour, multitudes are destroyed, not only by the open rejection, but through a fatal neglect of the salvation wrought by him. Many more perish through a presumptuous confidence in their own merits, than through an unscriptural trust in the merits of Christ."

"Well, Doctor," replied Mr. Flam, "I must say that I think an ounce of morality will go further toward making up my accounts than a ton of religion, for which no one but myself would be the better."

"My dear sir," said Dr. Barlow, "I will not presume to determine between the exact comparative proportions of two ingredients, both of which are so indispensable in the composition of a Christian. I dare not hazard the assertion, which of the two is the more perilous state, but I think I am justified in saying which of the two cases occurs most frequently."

Mr. Flam said: "I should be sorry, Dr. Barlow, to find out at this time of day that I have been all my life long in an error."

"Believe me, sir," said Dr. Barlow, "it is better to find it out now than at a still later period. One good quality can never be made to supply the absence of another. There are no substitutes in this warfare. Nor can all the good qualities put together, if we could suppose them to unite in one man, and to exist without religion, stand proxy for the death of Christ. If they could so exist, it would be in the degree only, and not in the perfection required by that law which said, do this and live. So kind a neighbor as you are, so honest a gentleman, so generous a master, as you are allowed to be, I can not, sir, think without pain of your losing the reward of such valuable qualities, by your placing your hope of eternal happiness in the exercise of them. Believe me, Mr. Flam, it is easier for a compassionate man, if he be not religious, to 'give all his goods to the poor,' than to bring every thought, 'nay than to bring any thought' into captivity to the obedience of Christ! But be assured, if we give ever so much with our hands, while we withhold our hearts from God, though we may do much good to others, we do none to ourselves."

"Why surely," said Mr. Flam, "you don't mean to insinuate that I should be in a safer state if I never did a kind thing?"

"Quite the contrary," replied Dr. Barlow, "but I could wish to see your good actions exalted, by springing from a higher principle, I mean the love of God; ennobled by being practiced to a higher end, and purified by your renouncing all self-complacency in the performance."

"But is there not less danger, sir," said Mr. Flam, "in being somewhat proud of what one really does, than in doing nothing? And is it not more excusable to be a little satisfied with what one really is, than in hypocritically pretending to be what one is not?"

"I must repeat," returned Dr. Barlow, "that I can not exactly decide on the question of relative enormity between two opposite sins. I can not pronounce which is the best of two states so very bad."

"Why now, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "what particular sin can you charge me with?"

"I erect not myself into an accuser," replied Dr. Barlow; "but permit me to ask you, sir, from what motive is it that you avoid any wrong practice? Is there any one sin from which you abstain through the fear of offending your Maker?"

"As to that," replied Mr. Flam, "I can't say I ever considered about the motive of the thing. I thought it was quite enough not to do it. Well but, Doctor, since we are gone so far in the catechism, what duty to my neighbor can you convict me of omitting?"

"It will be well, sir," said the Doctor, "if you can indeed stand so close a scrutiny, as that to which you challenge me, even on your own principles. But tell me, with that frank honesty which marks your character, does your kindness to your neighbor spring from the true fountain, the love of God? That you do many right things I am most willing to allow. But do you perform them from a sense of obedience to the law of your Maker? Do you perform them because they are commanded in his word, and conformable to his will?"

"I can't say I do," said Mr. Flam, "but if the thing be right in itself, that appears to me to be all in all. It seems hard to encumber a man of business like me with the action and the motive too. Surely if I serve a man, it can make no difference to him, why I serve him."

"To yourself, my dear sir," said the Doctor, "it makes all the difference in the world. Besides, good actions performed on any other principle than obedience, are not only spurious as to their birth, but they are defective in themselves; they commonly want something in weight and measure."

"Why, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "I have often heard you say in the pulpit that the best are not perfect. Now as this is the case, I will tell you how I manage. I think it a safe way to average one's good qualities, to throw a bad one against a good one, and if the balance sinks on the right side the man is safe."

Dr. Barlow shook his head, and was beginning to express his regret at such delusive casuistry, when Mr. Flam interrupted him by saying, "Well, Doctor, my great care in life has been to avoid all suspicion of hypocrisy."

"You can not do better," replied Dr. Barlow, "than to avoid its reality. But, for my own part, I believe religious hypocrisy to be rather a rare vice among persons of your station in life. Among the vulgar, indeed, I fear it is not so rare. In neighborhoods where there is much real piety, there is no small danger of some false profession. But among the higher classes of society, serious religion confers so little credit on him who professes it, that a gentleman is not likely to put on appearances from which he knows he is far more likely to lose reputation than to acquire it. When such a man, therefore, assumes the character of piety, I own I always feel disposed to give him full credit for possessing it. His religion may indeed be mistaken; it may be defective; it may even be unsound; but the chances are very much in favor of its not being insincere. Where piety is genuine it can not be altogether concealed. Where 'the fruits of the Spirit abound, they will appear.'"

"Now, my dear Doctor," replied Mr. Flam, "is not that cant? What do you mean by the fruits of the Spirit? Would it not have been more worthy of your good sense to have said morality or virtue? Would not these terms have been more simple and intelligible?"

"They might be so," rejoined the Doctor, "but they would not rise quite so high. They would not take in my whole meaning. The fruit of the Spirit indeed always includes your meaning, but it includes much more. It is something higher than worldly morality, something holier than mere human virtue. I rather conceive morality, in your sense, to be the effect of natural temper, natural conscience, or worldly prudence, or perhaps a combination of all three. The fruit of the Spirit is the morality of the renewed heart. Worldly morality is easily satisfied with itself. It sits down contented with its own meagre performances; with legal honesty, with bare weight justice. It seldom gives a particle 'that is not in the bond.' It is always making out its claim to doubtful indulgences; it litigates its right to every inch of contested enjoyment; and is so fearful of not getting enough, that it commonly takes more than its due. It is one of the cases where 'the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.'

"It obtains, however, its worldly reward. It procures a good degree of respect and commendation; but it is not attended by the silent train of the Christian graces, with that 'joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,' which are the fruits of the Spirit, and the evidences of a Christian. These graces are calculated to adorn all that is right with all that is amiable, 'whatsoever things are honest and just,' with 'whatsoever things are lovely and of good report.' And, to crown all, they add the deepest humility and most unfeigned self-abasement, to the most correct course of conduct, a course of conduct which, though a Christian never thinks himself at liberty to neglect, he never feels himself permitted or disposed to be proud of!"

"Well, well, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, "I never denied the truth of Christianity, as Carlton formerly did. 'Tis the religion of the country by law established. And I often go to church, because that too is established by law, for which you know I have a great veneration. 'Tis the religion of my ancestors, I like it for that too."

"But, sir," said the Doctor, "would you not show your veneration for the church more fully if you attended it twice instead of once? And your veneration for the law, if instead of going sometimes, you went every Sunday, which you know both the law of God and man enjoins."

"Why, unluckily," returned Mr. Flam, "the hour of service interferes with that of dinner."

"Sir," said Dr. Barlow, smiling, "hours are so altered that I believe if the church were to new model the calendar, she would say that dinners ought to be placed among the moveable feasts. An hour earlier or later would accommodate the difference, liberate your servants, and enable you to do a thing right in itself, and beneficial in its example."

Mr. Flam not being prepared with an answer, went on with his confession of faith. "Doctor," said he, "I am a better Christian than you think. I take it for granted that the Bible is true, for I have heard many men say, who have examined for themselves, which I can not say I have ever had time or inclination to do, that no opposer has ever yet refuted the Scripture account of miracles and prophecies. So if you don't call this being a good Christian, I don't know what is."

Dr. Barlow replied, "Nothing can be better as far as it goes. But allow me to say, that there is another kind of evidence of the truth of our religion, which is peculiar to the real Christian. I mean that evidence which arises from his individual conviction of the efficacy of Christianity in remedying the disorders of his own nature. He who has had his own temper improved, his evil propensities subdued, and his whole character formed anew, by being cast in the mold of Christianity, will have little doubt of the truth of a religion which has produced such obvious effects in himself. The truths for which his reason pleads, and in which his understanding, after much examination, is able to rest, having had a purifying influence on his heart, become established principles, producing in him at the same time holiness of life and peace of conscience. The stronger evidence a man has of his own internal improvement, the stronger will be his conviction of the truth of the religion he professes."

"There are worse men than I am, Doctor," said Mr. Flam, rather seriously.

"Sir," replied he, "I heartily wish every gentleman had your good qualities. But as we shall be judged positively and not comparatively; as our characters will be finally decided upon, not by our superiority to other men, nor merely by our inferiority to the divine rule, but by our departure from it, I wish you would begin to square your life by that rule now; which, in order that you may do, you should begin to study it. While we live in a total neglect of the Bible, we must not talk of our deficiencies, our failings, our imperfections, as if these alone stood between us and the mercy of God. That indeed is the language and the state of the devout Christian. Stronger terms must be used to express the alienation of heart of those, who, living in the avowed neglect of Scripture, maybe said, forgive me, sir, 'to live without God in the world.' Ignorance is no plea in a gentleman. In a land of light and knowledge, ignorance itself is a sin."

Here Dr. Barlow being silent, and Mr. Flam not being prepared to answer, Mr. Stanley said, "That the pure and virtuous dispositions which arise out of a sincere belief of Christianity, are not more frequently seen in persons professing themselves to be Christians, is, unhappily, one of the strongest arguments against us that can be urged by unbelievers. Instances, however, occur, which are too plain to be denied, of individuals who, having been led by divine grace cordially to receive Christianity, have exhibited in their conduct a very striking proof of its excellence; and among these are some who, like our friend Carlton, had previously led very corrupt lives. The ordinary class of Christians, who indeed scarcely deserve the name, as well as skeptics and unbelievers, would do well to mark the lives of the truly religious, and to consider them as furnishing a proof which will come powerfully in aid of that body of testimony with which Christianity is intrenched on all sides. And these observers should remember, that though they themselves may not yet possess that best evidence in favor of Christianity, which arises from an inward sense of its purifying nature, they may nevertheless aspire after it; and those who have any remaining doubts should encourage themselves with the hope, that if they fully yield themselves to the doctrines and precepts of the gospel, a salutary change will in time be effected in their own hearts, which will furnish them with irresistible evidence of its truth."

I could easily perceive, that though Mr. Stanley and Dr. Barlow entertained small hopes of the beneficial effect of their discourse on the person to whom it was directed; yet they prolonged it with an eye to Sir John Belfield, who sat profoundly attentive, and encouraged them by his looks.

As to Mr. Flam, it was amusing to observe the variety of his motions, gestures, and contortions, and the pains he took to appear easy and indifferent, and even victorious: sometimes fixing the end of his whip on the floor, and whirling it around at full speed; then working it into his boot; then making up his mouth for a whistle, but stopping short to avoid being guilty of the incivility of interruption.

At length with the same invincible good nature, and with the same pitiable insensibility to his own state, he arose to take leave. He shook us all by the hand, Dr. Barlow twice, saying, "Doctor, I don't think the worse of you for your plain speaking. He is a knave or a fool that is angry with a good man for doing his duty. 'Tis my fault if I don't take his advice; but 'tis his fault if he does not give it. Parsons are paid for it, and ought not to be mealy-mouthed, when there is a proper opening, such as poor Tyrrel's case gave you. I challenged you. I should perhaps have been angry if you had challenged me. It makes all the difference, in the event of a duel, which is the challenger. As to myself, it is time enough for me to think of the things you recommend. Thank God, I am in excellent good health and spirits and am not yet quite fifty. 'There is a time for all things.' Even the Bible allows that."

The Doctor shook his head at this sad misapplication of the text. Mr. Flam went away, pressing us all to dine with him next day; he had killed a fine buck, and he assured Dr. Barlow that he should have the best port in his cellar. The Doctor pleaded want of time, and the rest of the party could not afford a day, out of the few which remained to us; but we promised to call on him. He nodded kindly at Dr. Barlow, saying, "Well, Doctor, as you won't come to the buck, one of his haunches shall come to you; so tell madam to expect it."

As soon as he had left the room, we all joined in lamenting that the blessings of health and strength should ever be produced as arguments for neglecting to secure those blessings which have eternity for their object.

"Unhappy man!" said Dr. Barlow, "little does he think that he is, if possible, more the object of my compassion than poor Mr. Tyrrel. Tyrrel, it is true, is lying on a sick, probably a dying bed. His body is in torture. His mind is in anguish. He has to look back on a life, the retrospect of which can afford him no ray of comfort. But he knows his misery. The hand of God is upon him. His proud heart is brought low. His self-confidence is subdued. His high imaginations are cast down. His abasement of soul, as far as I can judge, is sincere. He abhors himself in dust and ashes. He sees death at hand. He feels that the sting of death is sin. All subterfuge is at an end. He is at last seeking the only refuge of penitent sinners, I trust on right grounds. His state is indeed perilous in the extreme; yet awful as it is, he knows it. He will not open his eyes on the eternal world in a state of delusion. But what shall awaken poor Mr. Flam from his dream of security? His high health, his unbroken spirits, his prosperous circumstances and various blessings, are so many snares to him. He thinks that 'to-morrow shall be as this day, and still more abundant.' Even the wretched situation of his dying friend, though it awakens compassion, awakens not compunction. Nay, it affords matter of triumph rather than of humiliation. He feeds his vanity with comparisons from which he contrives to extract comfort. His own offenses being of a different kind, instead of lamenting them, he glories in being free from those which belong to an opposite cast of character. Satisfied that he has not the vices of Tyrrel, he never once reflects on his own unrepented sins. Even his good qualities increase his danger. He wraps himself up in that constitutional good nature, which, being partly founded on vanity and self-approbation, strengthens his delusion, and hardens him against reproof."