f as Alexander the Great. He cried for another world to
_conquer_, and I cried for another world to _see_."

The case of our friend, I imagine, differs not materially from that of
a host of other seekers of contentment in this productive world. Like
"blind leaders of the blind," our invariable fate is to go astray in the
universal race for happiness. How common is it, after seeking for it
in every place but the right one, for the selfish man to lay the whole
blame upon this fine world--as if anybody was to blame but himself. Even
some professors of religion are too apt to libel the world. "Well, this
is a troublesome world, to make the best of it," is not an uncommon
expression; neither is it a truthful one. "Troubles, disappointments,
losses, crosses, sickness, and death, make up the sum and substance of
our existence here," add they, with tremendous emphasis, as if they had
no hand in producing the sad catalogue. The trouble is, we set too
high a value on our own merits; we imagine ourselves deserving of great
favours and privileges, while we are doing nothing to merit them. In
this respect, we are not altogether unlike the young man in the parable,
who, by-the-by, was also a professor--he professed very loudly of having
done all those good things "from his youth up." But when the command
came, "go sell all thou hast, and give to the poor," &c., it soon took
the conceit out of him.

In this connexion, there are two or three seemingly important
considerations, which I feel some delicacy in touching upon here.
However, in the kindest possible spirit, I would merely remark, that
there is a very large amount of wealth in the Church--by this I include
its wealthy members, of course; and refer to no particular denomination;
by Church, I mean all Christian denominations. Now, in connexion with
this fact, such a question as this arises in my mind--and I put it, not,
for the purpose of fault-finding, for I don't know that I have a right
view of the matter, but merely for the consideration of those who are
fond of hoarding up their earthly gains, viz.: Suppose the modern Church
was composed of such professors as the self-denying disciples of our
Saviour,--with their piety, simplicity, and this wealth; what, think
you, would be the consequence? Now I do not intend to throw out any
such flings as, "comparisons are odious"--"this is the modern Christian
age"--"the age of Christian privileges," and all that sort of nonsense.
Still