IRISH CHRONICLE.

DECEMBER, 1858.

N. G.

A NARRATIVE.

N. G. was a native of county A., in the north of Ireland. Her parents were Roman Catholics, very poor, but very zealous as regarded the traditions of their fathers. In conformity with the almost invariable practice, N. was brought, when still very young, to chapel. There she beheld the wondrous man, in the strange and striking garments, bowing, turning, occasionally bending the knee, and performing with punctilious ceremony that pantomime which binds as with a spell the imaginations of the worshipping thousands that behold him. In reply to the earnest inquiries of her excited mind, she was told, on her return home, that this was the priest, that he was among men in the place of God, and that she must try with heart and soul to please him, doing all he might command, and avoiding whatever he might forbid. She was also enjoined to tell him whatever in her character she thought might be wrong, with the understanding that it was in his power, as he might please, to retain or remit her sin. She was likewise told that, were he pleased with her, he could anoint her in her dying hour, and thus open to her the gate of heaven. With what power was he thus arrayed in her infantile mind! With what awe did she behold him! How did she tremble before him as one who held in his hands, not merely her present weal or woe, but her eternal destiny! To her his word was law, his frown an evil not to be borne, his approval her highest ambition.

Such was N.'s early training. Such is the training of myriads in Ireland at this moment-training that scarcely any ever neglect! Thieves, pickpockets, and the most accomplished in ruffianism, never, in this respect, prove indifferent to their offspring. The Irish poor have many faults-nought would I here extenuate-but they are not infidels, nor without natural affection, and such religion as they have, they do, with all diligence, communicate to their little ones, around whom the heart's finest tendrils are ever invincibly entwined. Would that they had learned "a more excellent way"! Would that those who are more favoured than they were equally faithful to their families!

N. has grown up to womanhood. In consequence of a natural quickness and thirst for knowledge, she has acquired the art of reading a little, then a rare endowment in such circumstances as hers. But in her hand she has never held for a moment a copy of the Word of God! Of the Old or of the New Testament she has never heard! She would not have known what the title meant! She was about as ignorant, in this respect, as those priests, in the days of Luther, who declaimed indignantly against that new language called the Greek which some had latterly invented, and in which they had written a book called the New Testament, which had originated such a number of heresies as had well-nigh ruined the church!

"Swaddler" is, in these parts, a term, not over respectful, to denote one who is not a priest nor a minister of the Church of England. Fame, with her thousand tongues, has published, far and wide, that such a one is to preach in the neighbourhood. There is novelty in the circumstance, and consequent excitement. Curiosity is taking a number to hear what the "babbler" may

have to say. N. was present among the rest. The Word of God proclaimed by this herald proves itself to be "quick and powerful, sharper than a twoedged sword, and a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." Our young friend felt as if her heart had been laid bare under the preacher's gaze. He had nothing, scarcely, in common with the priest. There was nothing about him of concealment or mystery,-no assumption of peculiar dignity or power, and yet, before the address is concluded, N. is conscious of an influence to which she had previously been a stranger. The result is, she becomes very unhappy. She feels that her heart is not right with God. The sharp arrows of conviction have entered her soul. Hitherto she had heard only of the commandments of the church (which respect saints' days, attendance on mass, &c.), and of those of the ten commandments which her church permitted its votaries to learn. She is now brought to see that "the law is exceeding broad," extending not merely to what is outward, but to the heart-to the thoughts and feelings as well as to words and actions. And it is by this law-by trying to live a stricter life-she still desires to be saved! Vain attempt! It becomes to her only "the knowledge of sin." In return for all her confidence and endeavours, it only exhibits in light more vivid how much she comes short, and her continually increasing guilt. It is to her a law that "worketh wrath."

Feeling miserable, and having been from her infancy accustomed to trust in the priest, to confess to him, and to receive a satisfying absolution, she has again recourse to him. She tells him of her vain thoughts, that she does not love the Lord with all her heart, and likewise of her want of god-likeness. On these matters he did not seem to feel strongly. But, unfortunately, she also tells him that she has heard the strange preacher! At this his face becomes black as a thunder-cloud. He denounces it as the very climax of transgression. A heavy penance is imposed, part of which is the performance of certain stations at Lough Derg. N. is obedient. She wants peace with God-a pearl of such price in her view, that to obtain it she will do, dare, or submit to anything. She performs carefully, and to the utmost, the prescribed penance. She attends to all that the most exacting superstition can require. In the anguish of her mind, she makes full proof of all the benefit which the remedies suggested by her priest can impart. But she found them vain remedies. Her distress of mind continued. All her penances had been but miserable com forters. The little light she had received gives her still to see that she has become no better than she had previously been, that she is still a sinner and deserving of hell. "Fear and trembling came upon her, and horror overwhelmed her." At length it is again published that he who preached before is to preach in the same place again. Will she go? Will she brave the priest's anger? Will she risk further penance? "A wounded spirit who can bear?" Therefore is she again present, listening-oh, how eagerly-if there be any comfort for her. With what majesty and power did those words come home to her stricken soul,-"The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from all sin." This was just the balm she wanted. Her case was now met exactly. But what is the consequence? She has peace, but how? It is from Christ, not the priest-from the blood of the cross, not from penances, the absolution, or the unction. This blood takes away all sin; and wherefore, then, a purgatory? Wherefore, then, the continual repetition of the sacrifice of the mass? What a condition! Has she been all her lifetime the victim of fatal error? Does the infallible church prohibit inquiry, with the view of concealing her apostasy! Such were the conclusions forced upon her in spite of herself. But she searched the Scriptures daily as to whether these things were so. Like a little child she received the truth in the love of it. After a time she moved from that neighbourhood to a locality where she might enjoy, what her soul now panted for, the privilege of Christian fellowship. Our church at T. became her home; and, all her remaining days, her humble and earnest walk adorned the truth she had received.

But her heaven-born soul dwelt in a body oppressed with a complication of diseases. Her sufferings were almost without interruption. She was entirely dependent on her needle for support. Is there, then, any work in the

Lord's vineyard to which such a one is equal? Without education, of but weak capacity, poorest among the poor, and, likewise, a continual sufferer, need poor N. attempt anything for Christ? The love of Christ constrains her -love stronger than every opposing difficulty; and she must render again according to the benefit she has received. Accordingly, she knows several young people, amiable and excellent, but strangers to the true grace of God. How dare to preach to them? This is not her plan. This she would not think of for a moment. No; she will get them to preach to her. Accordingly, she explains to one that she is not a proficient in reading, but she dearly loves her Bible, and she would take it as a very great favour if he would come and read a chapter with her occasionally. He does so. N. has a great many questions to ask, to which, in his generous kindness, he is anxious to give the fullest replies, little imagining all the time that, while he is trying to instruct her, she is skilfully leading his mind to the important inquiry,-Am I myself resting on Christ for salvation? Many a good discourse had he heard, but never had he received so much instruction as now, in his efforts to oblige poor N. She tells another of this young man's kindness, of the happy hour they had, and invites him to render what help he can. He consents, and in explaining to her gets new light himself on the "one thing needful." Another and another unite with them. The original object is forgotten; it becomes a mutual-instruction society, poor N. invariably contriving that redeeming love shall be evermore the engrossing theme. At length her room is quite filled, all being fully satisfied that to N. they owed the happiest hours they had ever enjoyed, and many of them declaring her their mother in the gospel. For years these meetings were sustained with undiminished interest. Those who originally took part in them are now widely scattered in many and distant lands. Some of them fill places both of honour and profit, and it is to be hoped are diligently exemplifying the lesson to which, in early life, they owed

so much.

This is but a specimen of the labours of this poor afflicted convert from popery. Space will not permit our entering into other particulars. She lived to do good to those around her. The Word of Christ dwelt in her richly, and its teachings so mingled with all conversation that none ever felt there was any particular aiming to reach their cases, while all had reason to know she had probed their secret, and given them that counsel their souls especially needed.

She now sleeps in Jesus. Some are already united with her in glory, as her "joy and crown of rejoicing." Others, too, will soon share her triumph, "standing on the sea of glass, and having the harps of God." Her memory is eminently fragrant. Hers is an everlasting remembrance. "I speak what I know, and testify what I have seen." Many a useful lesson have I learnt from her lips. Many an edifying hour have I spent with her. More than once has my drooping spirit been cheered and strengthened by her joyous, world-vanquishing faith.

This narrative furnishes encouragement to those who preach the gospel. Popery is strong, but the Bible is stronger. As surely as the God of Truth has said it, "His word shall not return to him void."

It should stimulate to increased exertion. How many may there be, unknown to us, whose bruised and bleeding hearts demand from us the healing balm of Gilead! O, that no one whose cry is, "What must I do to be saved ?" may be suffered, through our stinginess or inactivity, to die in ignorance of the blood that cleanseth from all sin!

In all the world, again, there is not a heart that is warmer, or a zeal more resolute, than is found in a genuine Irish convert.

There is yet hope for Ireland-not so much from the great and mighty, and wise and noble, as from the poor of Christ's flock, who, under the burning impulse of constraining love, live but to unfold to others "the unsearchable riches of Christ." The case narrated is only one of a multitude. Those who have been most my helpers in the Lord, to whom I am peculiarly indebted, whose holy consistency and invincible earnestness have been most widely felt in the interests of Zion, and who, in every storm, stood by my side, with a