Soon after this publication I had an opportunity to read Professor Robison's "Proofs of a conspiracy against religion and government." I perused it with a degree of astonishment; but was constrained, on the whole, to give it credence. The moral, political and religious state of a considerable part of Europe had for many years been such, as rendered it possible, and in some degree probable, that a conspiracy of this kind might exist. The insidious arts and incessant industry, with which infidels had long laboured to undermine the gospel, appeared consonant to the measures said to be adopted by these conspirators. The professor was a man of such high and extensive celebrity in the literary world, that, possessed of common discretion, he would not risk his reputation on the credit of a forgery, which could at once be detected. He referred to documents, the truth or falsity of which could easily be ascertained by such as would take the pains to examine them. In the horrid scene of wickedness which he described, men of publick character and literary talents were deeply implicated. These men, then living, were called by name. It was in their power, and for their interest, to confute the charge against them, if it was a calumny. The book had passed through two or three editions, and no answer, so far as I had heard, had been made to it. The appearance of it excited a considerable irritatation in America among a particular class of men. Virulent attacks were made on the private character of the author; but nothing written that had the least tendency to invalidate his proofs; the credit of which depended on the documents; not on his personal character. I was therefore induced to give credit to the narrative. And finding that many of the nefarious sentiments imputed by Robison to the societies of Illuminists in Europe, were actually circulating in America, in books and periodical papers, I judged it my duty to guard my own people against them, and to warn them of the dangers, which threatened them and their coun

try. I therefore, in September, 1798, preached in my own pulpit, and soon after in Springfield, the sermon, which has appeared under the title of "The dangers of the times from infidelity and immorality, and especially from a lately discovered conspiracy against religion and government." The publication was encouraged by the people in Springfield and West-Springfield.

My parish for many years had felt the importance of erecting a new meeting-house. A number of unsuccessful attempts had been made to agree on a location. In 1799, the controversy was happily terminated. Mr. John Ashley, a respectable inhabitant, offered the parish the sum of thirteen hundred pounds, as a fund for the support of the ministry, on condition, that within a time prescribed, an elegant and capacious house of worship should be erected and finished on ground, which he marked out, about half a mile north of the ground on which the then present house stood.

This proposal at once brought the long dispute to a crisis. By the acceptance or rejection of it, the question would probably be decided, whether the parish should any longer exist as one religious society. Some in the neighborhood of the ancient house would feel an attachment to that ground. Those who had long contended for the new ground, would feel their attachment strengthened by Mr. Ashley's proposal, and would think all dissentients utterly unreasonable. If an opposition to the proposal should ultimately prevail, the parish would necessarily be divided, and perhaps dissolved. I interested myself in the business, and both publickly and privately gave my opinion in favour of accepting the proposal, and supported it by arguments, which I thought to be weighty. I observed to my people, that I knew the subject to be delicate, but as the proposed location would discommode my own and my sons' families, as much as any families in the parish, I could not be suspected of being under an unworthy influence. The proposal was accepted almost unanimously. The few who

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hesitated, honorably acceded to the general sentiment. The work was promptly undertaken, cheerfully prosecuted, and happily accomplished.

On June 20, 1802, I preached to a serious and affected audience a valedictory sermon in the old meeting-house; and on the 24th day of the same month, which day completed a century from the erection of that house, I preached a dedicatory sermon in the new house. Both were printed.

In August, 1802, I preached a sermon at Northampton before the Missionary Society. Soon after, at the request of the committee of said society, I prepared two sermons, on the christian sabbath, for distribution in the new settlements. These were all published at the expense of the society.

On the public fast in April, 1802, I preached to my own people, and the next year to the people in Springfield, a sermon on the uniformity and constancy of the divine government. In this, after illustrating the leading sentiment, I endeavored to shew, that human governments ought to be, like the divine, steady and uniform, as far as the imperfection of men will permit; that there can be no free government without the influence of religious principles; that, as religion and government are connected, it must be the duty of ministers to preach on political subjects in this connection, and that the clamour against them on this ground has, in all ages, resulted from atheistical principles. This sermon was published at the request of the people in Springfield.

February, 1803. Riding alone in my cutter, I passed a man on foot, who belonged to my parish. He was nearly fifty years old-not a man of the most blameless character. I invited him to ride with me. A particular incident introduced religious conversation, to which he seemed not averse. I had before conversed with him. He would always receive advice and reproof without

offence, and never would deny the faults of which he was openly guilty. Our conversation was as follows:

Mr. why do you not attend publick worship?

"Because, I think, it will do no good. I mean to be an honest man-to injure no man."

So far is well. No man can be a real christian without honesty. But this alone will not make a christian. There must be a holy heart; a heart to love God; to believe in Christ the only Saviour of lost sinners. There must be a conviction of sin, a godly sorrow for it, a hatred of it, a resolution and watchfulness against it in all its forms, and especially against the sins which most easily beset you; there must be a respect for all God's commandments, and a humble reliance on the grace and mercy of God through the divine Redeemer.

"I know all this; and I know I am a sinner; and I would give all I have in the world, that I was a good man. I desire this above all things."

Why then are you not a good man?

"I wish I was; but I can't be. I can't change my own heart. If it is ever changed, it must be done by the power of God's spirit."

It is true, that for a change of heart you are dependent on the grace of God. But there are some things, which you can do; and which you will do, if you really desire to be a good man. You can go to God's house on his appointed day. That is the place where, and the time when you are to hope for God's spirit. He begets men by the word of truth. Therefore be swift to hear. There were many in the apostles' days, who received the spirit in the hearing of the word of faith. You can withdraw your foot from the place of temptation-you can lay apart the superfluity of naughtiness, and the gross forms of wickedness, which oppose the spirit.

"Yes; I can do all this; but it will do no good. My withdrawing from the tavern, and going to the place of worship will make no difference in my case. If God is pleased to send his holy spirit into my heart, and to renew it by his immediate power, I shall then be renewed. If not, I must remain as I am, and take my destiny. Nothing that I can do, will make my case better or worse-more or less hopeful. I hope God will do something for me. When he does it, then it will be done."

But, my friend, you certainly deceive yourself. You say, you would give all you have in the world that you was a good man. But you won't give your bottle. They who are sensual, have not the spirit. And if you will not renounce sensuality, how will you have the spirit. If ever you become a good man, you will become a temperate man. If you desire to be a good man, be a temperate man now. This you can be. If you would give all you have, that you were a good man, you will give so much labor as to go to God's house and seek him there. If ever you become a good man, you will do this. Why will you not do it now? It is manifest, you do not wish to be a good man. You will not relinquish so small a thing as your bottle-nor take so small a walk as from your house to the meeting-house; though you know that so long as you retain the former, and neglect the latter, you cannot be the man, whom, you say, you wish to be. You are like those of whom God complains, that they will not frame their doings to turn to him. And how will he pardon you for this?

By this time we came to the place where it was convenient for him to leave me, and the conversation ended. I do not know that it had any effect. He seemed to be sensible that he was a sinner; and to think that it was no fault of his, if he continued such; because he was dependent on the grace of God, and his eternal destiny was fixed by God's sovereignty, and fixed unconditionally. In his last sickness, which was not many years after,