It might be asked,-Why is man thus required under such anxieties, and toils, and perils of awful failure, to build up a character that shall be holy and meet for heaven? Would it not have been kinder had his Maker, who created him holy, for ever kept him so? This question it would not become us even to attempt to answer. God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways. He has been pleased to leave man, whom he made in his own image and after his own likeness, free; and to deal with him as a free and responsible agent-to entrust him with the direction of his own destiny. There is one suggestion, however, which we may offer as bringing our paper to an appropriate conclusion, and as casting some light on this dark subject, and it is this, that assuming, as we must do, that in the world to come saints shall be employed in service, shall be God's ministers, doing his pleasure; it may be that by the obedience which they here learn through the things they suffer, and the attainments which they here perfect through suffering; they may, through possessing experience which simple innocence merely could not furnish, be qualified for higher and more trusty service.

The view of work which we have been endeavouring to present may perhaps assist in correcting some misapprehensions which we think are current in regard to its relation to the fall of man. There would seem to exist a

generally diffused notion that work was imposed on man after his fall as a penalty; and we have heard it referred to as a curse-" the curse of labour," which, from the evil it helps to repress, and the temporal advantages it secures, has nevertheless turned out a blessing. Work, however, was imposed on man at his creation, and there is no reason to believe that he then engaged in it, as an amateur might do, for mere employment. On the contrary, there is much to lead us to suppose that work even then was pursued under conditions which required considerable exertion of his powers. Labour was required of him by the relation in which he stood to the earth and the fulness thereof, for the supply of subsistence and for every other physical want; and to recruit both mind and body, and brace and energize them for further labour,-night, with its still and natural opportunity for rest, from the beginning succeeded day. The curse consequent on the fall did not originate work, but it made work greatly more toilsome and more exacting. The ground being cursed for his sake, and he himself suffering physically as well as spiritually by the fall,-the fertility of the earth being lessened on the one hand, and his own strength being weakened on the other, it then came about that he had to eat bread in the sweat of his brow, and in sorrow all the days of his life. But this punitive or penal purpose of work is not its only one. Work must have been ordained at the first for some purpose. We believe that purpose was to serve some end in connection with the original probation state, and though it now carries in it a penal element, and so exacts hard and irksome requirements, we also believe that its main purpose still is to fulfil the important function in regard to the present probation state which we have indicated.

We close by merely adding these practical reflections:-1. It is evident that work will prove to us either a curse or a blessing according to the spirit in which we engage in it, and the motives under which we act. The end we propose to ourselves will determine whether it shall accomplish in us good or evil. If that end be merely to make money, if that be the only, the all-absorbing one, then it is clear our whole action will be controlled by it, our choices will all be wrong, and will constantly be violating those principles, a supreme regard to which alone can form a virtuous and holy character. Surrounded daily by influences capable of such good and evil, the result of

whose operation on us is dependent solely on our own choice, how necessary and appropriate the prayer of the Psalmist, "Incline my heart to thy testimonies, and not to covetousness." 2. It is evident that our life is not separated into distinct and isolated departments, but is an inseparable whole-a unity. Our business life is not one thing, and our religious life another thing; they flow not in different channels, but in one and the same. Yet have we never felt, when viewing ourselves as candidates for a happy immortality, as living here to become meet for life there, as if the exactions and restraints of work alienated our life wholly away from its main object and design, and prevented our availing ourselves of those pious exercises which seem to be best, if we have not thought them to constitute the only ones, fitted to aid us in securing it? But our subject presents life to us as an inseparable unity; a thing which cannot be broken. Our religion is to strengthen us in the business day's trials, and the business day's trials are to strengthen our religion. The want of religion, on the other hand, will cause us to fail under trials, and our failing under trials will but cause us to be more irreligious. 3. Our subject makes it evident what is to be regarded as the test of success in business. It shows us that only he achieves success, that only he is fortunate who, though he may have failed again and again in an earthly point of view, or may have attained no position in the world's estimation, shall yet, whether under prosperity or adversity, be found to have been rightly exercised thereby; and, on the other hand, that he is but a bankrupt, the true unfortunate as God judges, and as man ought to judge, who, though he has gained the whole world, yet loses his own soul.

Miscellaneous Papers.

RICHARD WEAVER.

THE following biographical notice of this remarkable man appears as an introduction to Six Addresses lately delivered by him at Rochdale, and published in London by S. W. Partridge :

sioned appeals, he fulminates in wrathful tones against the dastardly wife-beating drunkard, it is easy to see that the secret spring of his keen invective and eloquent reproof is to be found in his own reminiscences of childhood-a drunkard's home, a blaspheming father, and a suffering, patient mother. And it is to his mother that we "The influence of early training was must turn for the other side of this dark picnever more strikingly exemplified than in ture. From his father, he derived nothing the present instance; and this both for good but pernicious, evil influences; but his and for evil. Richard Weaver was sur-mother was a religious woman, and one who rounded, from his birth, with two opposite sets of influences, antagonistic in their tendencies, and each, in turn, preponderating. He is a native of Shropshire. His father was a collier, and, like many of that class, was a man sunk in the depths of depravity. A victim to intemperance, he gave loose to the vices which follow in its train, and was a noted blasphemer and reveller. As is too generally the case, his family suffered from his drunkenness. Often did his drunken madness cause him to ill use and assault his "Amidst such conflicting influences it is wife, and this in the presence of his children. not surprising that, as Richard grew up, the Scenes of this kind frequently repeated, and mild entreaties of his mother were disrefamiliar from his early childhood, have left garded; and, yielding to the temptations of a deep impression upon the mind of Richard; bad company, and the naturally evil tendenand when, in some moment of his impas-cies of his own depraved nature, he should

kept her light burning in a dark place. She was a praying woman; and from her mouth, instead of the parental blasphemy, Richard first learned to call upon God with the voice of prayer and thanksgiving. He has seen, he says, his father stand over her, when she has been reading the Bible, with a weapon in his hand, and heard him "threaten to split her head in two." Yet amidst all this persecution and opposition she steadily persevered in her Christian course.

be found growing in wickedness, and gra- able to fulfil his intention, he attempted to dually obtaining the position of a pioneer in murder a poor unfortunate female with whom the ranks of iniquity. As early as sixteen, he was connected. Fortunately, a comhe had acquired a taste for intoxicating drink; panion prevented him from accomplishing and the dancing-room found him one of its the awful crime. For two days longer did frequenters. Before long, he added to his his misery continue, and then, in boundless other bad habits a love for fighting, and was compassion, the Lord spoke peace to his often found indulging in this barbarous and soul. He soon made his mother's heart to brutalising practice. After one of these sing for joy, by sending her a letter, telling occasions, when but seventeen years of age, her what God had done for him. For a time he returned home with two black eyes. As he ran well, but something hindered.' soon as his mother saw him she fell on her Satan strove hard for him, and his old comknees, and began to pray for him with broken panions laboured to get him once more with utterances from an almost broken heart. them; and at last he fell, and was, for a time, This so enraged the young reprobate, that a living example that the 'last state' of such he says, 'I felt like a bloodhound of hell, men is worse than the first. and I said I would murder her if she did not give over praying.' He left the room, and went to bed; she followed him, after a short time, and knelt down by the bedside, again to pray for her poor boy; but he, infuriated by passion, sprang out of bed, and seizing her by her grey hairs, swore that he would murder her if she did not cease praying for him. Mark the steady faith of the poor mother while thus in the grasp of her depraved son; she cried, 'Lord, though thou slay me, yet will trust in thee! It is hard work, my child, to see thee raising up thy hand against thy mother; but, O Lord, though thou slay me, yet will I trust in

thee.'

66

"He now removed to a village not far from Manchester, where, as California Dick,' he soon acquired a reputation for everything that was evil. One Sunday afternoon, two young men, who had recently been converted, and whose hearts burned with all the fervour of first love, were standing in a house in the village, when the sister of one of them said, pointing out of the window, 'Look, there goes California Dick.' One of these young men said to the writer of this sketch, I shall never forget that first sight of Richard Weaver. He was walking between two fighting men, and his face was plastered in all directions from wounds he had received in a recent fight. While I looked upon him I resolved to try and get hold of him, and to win him for Christ.' This resolve was carried into effect,—an ac

'He went on from bad to worse, and for years was one of the most dissipated among the depraved with whom he associated. His courage and success in his pugilistic encoun-quaintance was formed-early impressions ters with his fellow pitmen gained him the name of Undaunted Dick.' Drinking, dancing and fighting, blasphemy, and obscenity, were now the characteristics of his career; and, up to this time, we see fully exemplified the results of his father's pernicious example. God was not in all his thoughts, and the ways of religion were his abhorrence. But God's ways are not ours. In the face of all this rebellion and sin, God intended to use him for his glory, and, as in the memorable case of Saul of Tarsus, to make the bitter opposer to become a champion for the truth. In the midst of his sin, and while preparing for a fight, which had been arranged to take place a few days after wards, he overheard some individuals conversing on religious subjects; his past life flashed before him, and he was miserable. He had not been to a place of worship for eight years, but these words flashed into his mind, Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?' Now the effect of his mother's early training began to show itself; and though thus sunk in sin, the seed, which had been long before sown, began to bear fruit. For some days he resisted the strivings of the spirit-tried to drown the voice of conscience with drink - he even attempted suicide; and when un

were revived, and he was induced to go to the Sunday School, not, however, without considerable opposition from some of the teachers, who thought, and not without reason, that until a more marked change took place in him, his attendance at the school might possibly do it harm in the opinion of others. Though his convictions were revived, he did not at once wholly forsake his sinful courses. One day, in the year 1856, Richard being in a place in Manchester used as a sparring or boxing saloon, and having the boxing gloves on, he was, while actually engaged in a boxing match, seized with such deep conviction and sorrow for sin, that he became horror-struck, all his past career appeared to start up before him, and the awful end to which it all tended, stared him full in the face. Leaving the place, he hastened to his lodgings, and rushing up to his bedroom, cast himself on his knees before the Lord; and for several hours he remained in earnest prayer. During that night the Lord heard the voice of his supplications, and for Christ's sake pardoned his iniquities and blotted out his sins. It was evidenced by his life that he was now a changed man. Old things had passed away, and all things had become new. He joined the Wesleyan

Society at Openshaw, a village in one of the Manchester circuits, and where he is still a member, this being his residence. The conductors of the school, satisfied as to the reality of his conversion, began to make use of him as a teacher in some of the juvenile classes; and thus he began to work a little for God.

"About this time a party of Mormons came, as they had frequently done before, to the village where Mr. Weaver was living, and one Sunday afternoon held a meeting in the open air. In company with some of the teachers he was returning from the Sunday School, and stopped to hear what was going on. The Mormon speaker, after giving an account of their system, and enforcing it to the best of his power, closed by challenging any one to reply. No one else appearing willing, Richard Weaver said, I will answer thee, but I must have a chair to stand on; lend me thine.' This the Mormon refused to do; but several of the villagers, expecting nothing from him but a little amusement, cried out, I'll lend thee a chair, Dick.' Accepting one, he mounted it, and commenced his reply. To the astonishment of the villagers, and the confusion of the Mormons, he showed very considerable knowledge of the subject; and so handled his opponents that they speedily left the assembly, and slunk out of the village, leaving Richard master of the field; and from that time they have avoided the place. Mr. Weaver's brother was a class leader and local preacher, and occasionally he supplied for him, and this brought him more prominently before the public. He became known to that devoted servant of God, Mr. Reginald Ratcliffe, of Liverpool, and he soon found him employment as a colporteur. In this capacity he attended the execution of Palmer, and sold Bibles and distributed tracts on the ground at Stafford during the previous night. For about twelve months he continued in this occupation, frequently accompanying Mr. Ratcliffe on his preaching excursions to various places; and his reputation as an ardent and uncompromising preacher greatly extended. He next accepted an engagement as town missionary, at Prescott. Here he soon became an object of persecution to many, especially the Papists; and on several occasions he was cruelly ill-used by them-being more than once dragged along the ground by his legs, with his head striking against the stone pavement until it was severely cut. 'But none of these things moved him.' All bleeding as he was, he stood up and preached Christ to the infuriated people; one of whom rushed at him with a bludgeon, with which he struck him a violent blow on the head, which felled him to the ground. He rose to his knees, and, bleeding as he was, commenced pray

ing for the man who had struck him. The ruffian still grasping the weapon, walked round him threatening to kill him. But an unseen Power protected Richard, and throwing the stick down, the man was heard to mutter as he slunk away, 'I cannot kill him; he has so many lives.'

"The many applications for his services in distant towns compelled him to resign his engagement at Prescott, and since that period he has travelled over the British islands, preaching the Gospel. He is not in the employ of any society, and therefore receives no salary. But, trusting to Providence for temporal blessings, he has realised the truth, Verily, thou shalt dwell in the land, and be fed.'

"In London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dublin, and in many towns in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Cheshire, and elsewhere, he has laboured with unprecedented success. He specially addresses himself to the working. classes, and, being one of themselves, he is able so to appeal to their sympathies that he secures their attention. After once preaching in any place, crowds flock to hear him on all succeeding occasions, and these are to a very large extent from the ranks of those who seldom or never attend any place of worship. In some towns, upwards of a hundred persons have been brought to the enjoyment of religion, every night, under his ministry; and this for several weeks in succession. Though sometimes, he may, in his earnestness, be betrayed into expressions which, to say the least, had better have been omitted, yet few can hear him without feeling persuaded that he is a remarkable man, raised up specially for a great end. God has wonderfully owned his labours. Thousands have been converted by his instrumentality; and to recount but a portion of the thrilling narratives which he gives of the scenes in which he has taken part since his conversion, would fill a volume, and cannot, therefore, be attempted in this brief sketch. But no pen can do justice to the power with which he sways the emotions of the immense throngs who crowd to hear him. Now provoking a smile, almost merging upon open merriment, by some flash of native humour, and then melting them to tears by some pathetic narration, matchless for its artless simplicity and tenderness. And it is a sight worth looking upon, to see a large chapel filled with the hard-handed, and grimy featured sons of toil, who have come direct from their workshops to the chapel, thus acknowledging the power of one of nature's orators. Untaught, rugged, and sometimes uncouth, he at all times fearlessly declares the truth; warning all men, exhorting and reproving. Hypocrisy he boldly attacks, and unsparingly rebukes. An uncompromising

teetotaler, and with his own fearful remembrances of the deadly nature of the evil of drunkennes, he denouncess the liquor traffic in all its forms, and relentlessly lashes all engaged in it. To drunken fathers and husbands he shows no mercy, but pours upon them a torrent of withering and bitter sarcasm, showing them their sinful folly and madness; but to all he offers a free salvation with an earnest faithfulness that carries convictions of his own sincerity, and which is again and again blessed by God to the conversion of scores and hundreds."

The following fearful passage, from one of Weaver's Rochdale addresses, corroborates some of the foregoing statements:

there I went up stairs, took a razor, and pulled my handkerchief off to get to my throat, but my mother's prayers would not let me. I then went into an harlot's dwelling, and tried to murder her. I fastened a rope round her neck, and threw it over a beam in the house and wound her up, and had she not been cut down she would have been hung. This was on the Friday evening, and I said that if God would only spare me till Saturday morning, I would give God my heart. He did spare me, and I found pardon; and I sent my mother a letter, telling her what God had done for my soul. As she read the letter the tears rolled down her cheeks, and she thought of my hands having been in her grey hairs to murder her; and she went "I was at a meeting some time ago, and I amongst her neighbours showing them the heard a young man tell his experience. He letter, and saying, "This, my son, was dead said, I was brought up by a praying and is alive again, was lost and is found." mother, but I took no notice of that praying When I went home, before going to bed at mother; when she has been reading the night, I took the Bible, and as I knelt me Bible I have seen my father stand over her down on the stone on which my mother had with a weapon in his hand, and threaten to knelt when I seized her by the hair of the split her head in two. At the age of about head, I could not pray. My father began fifteen I began to get into company with to cry out, "It is time for me to begin to other bad boys of my own age, and I neg- pray now, when my children have begun to lected the advice of my praying mother. A serve God." My father became converted. sixteen years of age I took to drinking and That young man was Richard Weaver, and dancing, and at seventeen I went home one he is in the pulpit of Union Street Chapel, night after I had been fighting, and my in Rochdale, to-night. I knocked at hell's mother saw me with two black eyes. Her gate, but the Lord would not let me fall in. poor heart seemed almost broken, and she May heaven help you to arise and come to began to pray for the Lord to bless me; I our Father. If he can save a sin-blighted felt like a bloodhound of hell, and I said I Richard Weaver, he can save the vilest would murder her if she did not give over sinner in Rochdale, and if there is pardon praying. After I had gone to bed she came for me he can save you. Was there ever a to my room and she knelt at the bed side, wretch like me? No, never! As I stand and I jumped out of bed, and seizing her by here a sinner saved by grace, I shall never her grey hairs, I swore I would murder her forget the counsels of a praying mother in if she prayed sny more for me. She ex-by-gone days. I have often thought what claimed "Lord, Though thou slay me, yet an awful thing it will be for you that have will I trust in Thee. It is hard work, my praying mothers, if you do not come to child, raising up thy hand against thy mo- Christ you will have to be damned. May ther; but Lord, though thou slay me, yet heaven save you to-night. When I was will I trust in thee.'" My mother's prayers fighting, cursing, swearing, and drinking, followed me into the public-house, and II thought I had lots of friends, but they began to fight, but my mother still kept praying for God to bless me, and those prayers did me more harm than a man's fists. I was lying in bed one morning, and I had not been to a place of worship for "When I was first converted I had a eight years, when these words, which I had companion, and I asked him one day to go not heard for years, came into my mind, with me to the chapel, and begin to serve "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" As God. He was a good dancer, and he reI was lying on my bed the Spirit was rap- plied, "I am going to dance for £5 a-side ping at my heart, and the devil said, "If to-night, and if I win I shal have a good thou does get converted, thy companions spree.' I said to him, 'What shall it profit will say that thou art frightened of fighting a man if he gain the whole world and lose this and the other man.' The next day I his own soul, or what shall a man give in determined to get drunk, and I tried to exchange for his soul?' I left him, and walk four miles to a public-house; and as I three years after that I went to see him went upon the road I had to cry every now again, and found him on the bed of death. and then, "Lord have mercy upon me.' "It was the same young man that was with I returned home drunk, and when I got me in the harlot's dwelling, and that cut

were my enemies; and now that I am serving God, I have a great many friends, and they are a great deal better than those I had before.