ndanus," says William Law, "is a man of excellent parts, and clear
apprehension. He is well advanced in age, and has made a great figure in
business. He has aimed at the greatest perfection in everything. The
only thing which has not fallen under his improvement, nor received any
benefit from his judicious mind, is his devotion; this is just in the
same poor state it was when he was six years of age, and the old man
prays now in that little form of words which his mother used to hear him
repeat night and morning. This Mundanus that hardly ever saw the poorest
utensil without considering how it might be made or used to better
advantage, has gone on all his life long praying in the same manner as
when he was a child; without ever considering how much better or oftener
he might pray; without considering how improvable the spirit of devotion
is, how many helps a wise and reasonable man may call to his assistance,
and how necessary it is that our prayers should be enlarged, varied, and
suited to the particular state and condition of our lives. How poor and
pitiable is the conduct of this man of sense, who has so much judgment
and understanding in everything but that which is the whole wisdom of
man!" How true to every syllable is that! How simple-looking, and yet
how manly, and able, and noble! We close our young men's session with
Law and Butler to-night, and I cannot believe that our session with those
two giants has left one feeble mind in the two classes; they were all
weeded out after the first fortnight of the session; though, after all is
done, there are still plenty left both among old and young in the
congregation. Even Homer sometimes nods; and I cannot but think that
John Bunyan has made a slip in saying that Feeble-mind enjoyed the
Interpreter's House. At any rate, I wish I could say as much about all
the feeble minds known to me.

4. The Hill Difficulty, which might have helped to make a man of Feeble-
mind, saw a laughable, if it had not been such a lamentable, spectacle.
For it saw this poor creature hanging as limp as wet linen on the back of
one of the Interpreter's sweating servants. Your little boy will explain
the parable to you. Shall I do this? or, shall I rather do that? asks
Feeble-mind at every stop. Would it be right? or, would it be wrong?
Shall I read that book? Shall I go to that ball? Shall I marry that
man? Tell me what to do. Give me your hand. Take me up upon your back,
and