A late American writer has said of insincerity, that it is the most detestable of all vices for which men go unhung. Yet it must be admitted, there is no vice more prevalent, even among the professed followers of Him, “who knew no iniquity, neither was guile found in his lips.” The sentiment, that it is right to deceive for the good of the church, is not peculiar to the Papists. Perhaps the enlightened Protestant can scarcely be found, who would verbally avow such a doctrine; but it is often practically avowed, even by the messenger of truth; and ecclesiastical elevation is sometimes attributable more to dishonesty than to real virtue or talent. Christmas Evans’ popularity, however, could boast a better origin. It was the spontaneous fruit of his graces and his gifts. He was never indebted to unfair and underhanded measures for his success. His conduct was always open and ingenuous. Of deceit and secret design he was incapable. He never attempted to build up his own church by proselyting the converts of other churches. In one instance, when a young man, who had been educated for the ministry in the established church of England, came to him, desiring baptism by immersion, instead of eagerly seizing upon so valuable an acquisition to the Baptists, as some doubtless would have done, he endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, and yielded at length only to his fervent importunity. He deemed the slightest departure from truth, in any instance, a crime, and a deep disgrace to the Christian character. He was innocent and unsuspecting as a child. His frank and confiding disposition was unquestionably the occasion of most of his heavy trials. Jealous and malicious men took advantage of his Christian simplicity, and made one of his sweetest virtues a poison to his peace. He once employed a person to sell a horse for him at a fair. After some time, he went out to see if he was likely to succeed. There was a man bargaining for the animal, and the contract was nearly completed. “Is this your horse, Mr. Evans?” said the purchaser. “Certainly it is,” he replied. “What is his age, sir?” “Twenty-three years.” “But this man tells me he is only fifteen.” “He is certainly twenty-three, for he has been with me these twenty years, and he was three years old when I bought him.” “Is he safe-footed?” “Very far from that, I assure you, or I would not part with him, and he has never been put in harness since I have had him either.” “Please to go into the house, Mr. Evans,” whispered the man whom he had employed to make the sale, “for I shall never dispose of the horse while you are present.” The frank manner, however, in which Mr. Evans told him all the truth, induced the dealer to make the purchase at a very handsome price; while it procured for Mr. Evans a good name, which is better than gold. SARCASTIC REBUKES.