mental vigour; and they were equally distinguished for
observance of the Sabbath. The universal observance of the same day was
of great importance. It guarded against neglect. It told upon the
ungodly, as was shown by an eloquent induction of circumstances,--the
shops closed--the sound of the church-going bell--the throngs of decent
worshippers going to and fro, &c.

Young men in great cities (it was observed) were in great danger,
chiefly from example. They met with those who were older in sin than
themselves--who prided themselves on knowing where the best oysters
were sold, the cheapest horses to be hired, or the cheapest boats to be
engaged for the Sunday's excursion. Young men were ready to think, "If
I don't do this, I may do something worse." The fallacy and danger of
this mode of reasoning were exposed. It might be employed to excuse any
sin. Public places of amusement were highways to destruction. Ah! how
those old people in that little cottage--surrounded with a stone
wall--on the hill side--far away--would weep, if they knew their son
was treading on the verge of these burning craters! Familiarity with
Sabbath-breaking destroyed the sense of guilt. The young medical
student when he first visited the dissecting-room, and the soldier when
he first stood on the field of battle, were sensible of misgivings,
against which repetition only made them proof,--each gradually losing
his first sensations.

The desecration of the Sabbath was a greater evil to society than any
tyrant could inflict. How would any infringement of civil rights be
resisted! Here was an infringement with consequences infinitely more
injurious; and yet the press were dumb dogs, and the pulpit itself was
not guiltless!

This masterly discourse was read, but read in such a manner as to lose
none of its effect. It occupied upwards of an hour. My irresistible
impression as I listened was, _There is a man of God!_ Truly a light
shining in a dark place; for, as I returned to my lodgings, I found the
coffee-houses, oyster-saloons, and theatres all open, just as on any
other day, only more thronged with customers. How much such discourses
are needed in this place, I leave you to judge from the following
extract from the _New Orleans Guide_:--

"The greatest market-day is Sunday. At break of day the gathering
commences,--youth and age--beauty and not so beautiful--all colours,
nations, and tongues are co-mingled in one heterogeneous mass of
delightf