speaking particularly of excessive and unseasonable appropriations of time to the purposes of recreation. The order of nature is repose in the night season, and invigorated action in the daytime. But to turn night into day, to make recreation or what ought to be such, a wearisome toil, and to give the hours proper for application, to sleep or to dull languor, is to break the harmonies of Providence. We ought to look at this subject as rational beings, conscious that life was given for great and valuable purposes, and desirous so to arrange its employments and pleasures, as best to accomplish its true designs. There is a time for everything; there is a seasonable appropriation to be made of our time, for amusements. But it cannot ordinarily, we think, be very long. Three hours, we suspect, is as much time as most persons can spend together with profit and interest. If there is spirited conversation during that time it will exhaust ; if mere and light amusement, it is enough.

The suggestion here made does not apply, perhaps, to what are called fashionable circles; and indeed where evening parties are very frequent, the hours allotted do not usually, it is probable, run much beyond the time specified. But there is another view of the waste of time, applying particularly to the habits of our cities, which carries it up to a much larger amount. Few of our young men in this country, it is true, are exonerated from the necessity of attending to some kind of business. It has not been possible yet to form here a class of those, whose lives are devoted to killing time,' under the notion of seeking pleasure. Far distant be the day when such shame on manhood shall be seen among us! This may seem to be rather a serious opening for a suggestion with regard to persons of the other sex and we do not intend to be so serious with them. But we ask, and leave it to others to answer, whether, with morning calls and evening parties, with late rising and the languors of exhaustion, with the cares of the wardrobe and the toilet, life is not, in one way and another, nearly consumed, by many, upon amusements?—whether, with some, the splendors and gaieties of social exhibition and pleasure-we speak of the young-do not, either in preparation or enjoyment, form the very business, anxiety, fear, hope, and object of life? Our question is asked, and we are aware that others can answer it better than ourselves. But we do say, that those whom Providence has exempted from the toils and cares which weigh upon many of their less favored sisters, are bound to give some

decided evidence of superior intellectual accomplishment. Whether they do, we again leave others to judge, being ourselves grave men, little experienced in matters of this sort. We can moralize, however, and this is what we are doing. And we must take upon us, in this character, to say to fathers and mothers, that, if a fair portion of the leisure time of their daughters, is not devoted to the cultivation of their minds, and that too, by some higher means than novel reading, no christian law can warrant the course they are pursuing. We might ask, indeed, if such a question did not carry its own answer, whether those to whom God has given leisure and means, should not do something to alleviate human want and misery-something to smooth the neglected pillow of sickness, to cheer the cold and desolate abodes of suffering poverty, to still the cries of halffamished children, and soothe the anguish that none will pity or care for something to claim kindred for them with that noble band of devoted females, the Sisters of Charity.

Under the head of excess, we might mention that excessive estimation in which a connexion with fashionable society is held. Fashionable life abroad, as every one knows, has created an imperium in imperio in society, a barrier of caste, more difficult to break through than that of rank itself. The same tendency of things, only less fully developed, is seen here. The evil consists, not in the exclusion, but in the terms of the exclusion. It is not only exclusion, but the most arbitrary and unreasonable as well as bigoted exclusion-such, indeed, as with all our complaints of the religious world, is not to be found among any of its denominations. There is no sect like the

sect of the fashionable. The standard of every other sect is always, at least, alleged to be that of truth or sanctity; but of this, it is not even worth. It is wealth, equipage, the style of living; or it is mere caprice; or it is taste or manners, and these we will not object against-but it is always some extrinsic consideration. And it is not only thus heartless, but it is excessively selfish. The grand and governing principle of fashion is escape from the multitude. It is this principle, we need not say, which explains the frequent changes of costume. The moment any form of dress falls from the nobler animals in the chase of fashion upon the apish multitude that is following after, it is degraded. What was before the lion's mane,' by change, not in the article but in the wearer, comes to be considered as 'calf-skin,' fit only for recreant limbs.'-The evil,

is-escape

we allow, does some good, as most visible evils do. These frequent changes in dress create employment for millions; and every fabric is sooner or later, and by somebody or other, worn It is the selfish and dissocial principle only, that, in this connection, we object to. But the principle does much harm in other ways. To select one instance, for we cannot enlarge;-fashionable society, in its effort to escape from the multitude, has at length, in the old world, hit upon the notable device of turning the day into night. In everything else the silly multitude could come up with it. But business must be done in the day-time. And those who are exempt from this necessity, have found no theatre for their exclusive possession, but that which is surrounded by the curtain of darkness. Here indeed they have a region to themselves;-but the sickly dews of the night are descending upon it, and feverish excitement or wearisome exhaustion pervades its crowded assemblies, and its avenues to disease, langour and vice, are many, and they are thronged with pale and suffering victims.

Indeed, the evil of this excess-to return to the general view-the evil of this excess in recreation, whether in the time given, or in the eagerness with which it is pursued, does not terminate in itself. It leads to excess in other things. Undue excitement of this kind, arouses all the passions. The mind more easily becomes the victim of dissipation. The body, too, is exhausted, and is more ready to welcome the stimulating draught. It is thus that the path of amusement is sometimes found to be the broad way to destruction. The thoughtless, the gay, the bright and beautiful are there—and, to the inexperienced eye, all appears fair and inviting, because it sees not the dark retreats of guilt and chambers of iniquity that lie beyond. We hope this representation does not apply to any amusements among us. Of this, however, we are too inexperienced to be sure; and we are certain, at any rate, that in these more light and thoughtless hours, too much precaution cannot be taken against excess.

We have now completed the observations we intended to make on the subject of recreation. Little as it has attracted the attention of the moralist or the preacher, we must confess that there are few things that more effectually dispose us to reflection than a scene of amusement. It is not the outward dig

nity or gravity of any situation that most fully developes the workings of human nature. The cottage witnesses the same passions as the throne. The gravest scene of business does not display a keener contrast of human interests and feelings, than the lightest scene of amusement. And it is because those who pass before us in the throng of pleasure, are so unconscious of all this-it is because the glare of splendor and dress and public display, so blinds them to these inward workings of pride and envy and jealousy and selfishness-it is because, that, while all are so eagerly seeking happiness, so many are thoughtless or ignorant of the true means-it is, in short, because of this contrast between the outward gaiety and splendor, and the inward ennui and dissatisfaction, between the outward grace form and feature and the inward unloveliness, that we are often moved to reflection and even to sadness.

of

Nor is there any scene on which we are more ready to invoke the highest influences of piety. Nor is there any that more needs them. We see that it is the felt presence of God that is wanted to give its true dignity and calmness and joy to society-that it is needed for social man, in the midst of the crowd as much as it is for individual man in the solitude of his closet. We see that a cheerful and affectionate piety would spread new life and beauty through the assembly of the young, the prosperous and gay.

And this affectionate piety seems to us as suitable for such an occasion as it is needful. How striking is the display of divine goodness, which, at such a time, is before us! All this world's good is a profusion and splendor that almost captivates the senses-youth, and gaiety of heart, over which the shadows of earthly change have not yet come-the mind bright and buoyant, the step elastic that springs unconsciously from the earth it touches, the ear opened to the melodies of sound, the eye radiant with pleasure-no sickness yet, no heart-breaking sorrow, no blighting disappointment-the diseased, indeed, suffer, the bereaved mourn, the neglected and forlorn sigh and complain, but they are not here,-HERE is the company, the selected and favored company, as it were, of the joyous and gay! And shall they render no thanks to the Giver of all this? Shall they not hallow their pleasures in the love of Him who dispenses them? Who shall thank God, if not the young, if not the joyful, if not the favored?

Let these reflections come to us,we say not in our happi

est hours, for they are more retired hours, and piety must have part with them, but let these pious reflections come to us, in the next happier hours of society. Let an incense go up from our dwellings, when the kind and the friendly, the cheerful and the favored are gathered there. Let Holiness to the Lord, be written, not on our temples and closets only, but upon all our habitations, upon all the places of our labor and of our

recreation.

ART. VII.-1. The Ancient History of Universalism: from the Time of the Apostles, to its Condemnation in the Fifth General Council, A. D. 553. With an Appendix, tracing the Doctrine down to the Era of the Reformation. By HOSEA BALLOU, 2d. Boston. Marsh & Capen. 1829. 12mo. pp. 326. 2. The Modern History of Universalism, from the Era of the Reformation to the Present Time. By THOMAS WHITTEMORE. Boston. 1830. 12mo. pp. 458.

THESE Volumes evince considerable research, and are written in a good spirit. They are, we conceive, unnecessarily diffuse, and for this, as well as for other reasons, are not likely to be read very extensively. We shall give, as succinctly as possible, the most important facts and authorities which they contain respecting the history of Universalism. Some of the information, and that especially which relates to the rise of the doctrine which denies a future retribution altogether, will be new to many of our readers.

In speaking of the Orthodox writers of the two first centuries, Mr Ballou admits that,

Nearly all allude to, or expressly assert, a future judgment and a future state of punishment: seven call it the everlasting the eternal fire or torment; but out of these there are three who certainly did not think it endless, as two of them believed the damned would be annihilated, and the other asserted their restoration to bliss. What were the views of the remaining four, upon this point, cannot be determined; since the circumstance just mentioned shows that their use of the word everlasting, is no criterion.' Anc. Hist. p. 67.