general sin of the heart, and was the necessary consequence of its separation and alienation from God. That this condemnation would come upon all sinners was evident, for it is written, “The wages of sin is death,” (Rom. vi. 23.) One point appeared particularly to produce the deepest sensation of pain in this young man’s mind; this was the representation of the conduct of God towards him in reference to his father; that whilst that unhappy man had been cut off, and sent almost without warning, with all his sins upon him, before the Judge who will deal with every man according to his works, he, the murderer, had been spared, and brought into a prison, where he had opportunity given him to reflect upon his state, to seek for pardon, and where salvation was offered to him, if he would turn and seek it. The cry of, “Oh my father, my poor father!” mingled with his sobs on that occasion. Although Jolin’s crime was so palpable, and was confessed by him in the fullest, yet as it was committed unconsciously, and he had seen no traces of it, except in what others told him, the whole seemed like a dream; and the deed itself, with its appalling circumstances, were not likely to fasten themselves on his mind as if it had been premeditated, or as if he had been in full possession of his understanding, or as if he, which he himself wished, had seen his father’s murdered corpse. However, this circumstance afterwards appeared to turn out to his advantage. It prevented him from fixing his thoughts exclusively on a particular sin; and he was thus less hindered in discovering the sinfulness of his nature and of his general habits, and learning the lesson it is often so difficult to comprehend, that we are not less condemned by the law of God for our general alienation from him, than for any one or more scandalous offences which we may have committed. Not that this state of mind in Jolin prevented him from coming to the deepest sense of his own particular offence; for as he learned more thoroughly to understand the nature of sin in general, his feeling for his peculiar crime more deeply penetrated his soul. One other subject seemed to produce in him the same intense state of feeling which the mention of his father had done; this was the sin of intemperance, which had, as I have before remarked, been the immediate cause of his crime. Mr. Hall, thinking that he might be suffering from the cold, confined as he was in a large stone-chamber, of which the window was usually open, guarded him against seeking a refuge from his sufferings from drinking. At the mention of this, he went off again into expressions of horror at the supposed possibility of such an offence in his tremendous circumstances, and declared that nothing should again tempt him thus to transgress. Yet, as Mr. Hall observes, were his resolutions expressed rather as if smarting under the penalty of his crime, than as if conscious of his own inability to keep the engagement