ion."

"It is true," said the Doctor, "we are not called to resemble him in his
external circumstances. It is not our bounden duty to be necessarily
exposed to the same contempt; nor are we obliged to embrace the same
ignominy. Yet it seems a natural consequence of our Christian
profession, that the things which he despised, we should not venerate;
the vanities he trampled on, we should not admire; the world which he
censured, we ought not to idolize; the ease which he renounced, we
should not rate too highly; the fame which he set at naught, we ought
not anxiously to covet. Surely, the followers of him who was 'despised
and rejected of men' should not seek their highest gratification from
the flattery and applause of men. The truth is, in all discourses on
this subject, we are compelled continually to revert to the observation,
that Christianity is a religion of the _heart_. And though we are not
called upon to partake the poverty and meanness of his situation, yet
the precept is clear and direct, respecting the temper by which we
should be governed: 'Let the same _mind_ be in you which was also in
Christ Jesus.' If, therefore, we happen to possess that wealth and
grandeur which he disdained, we should _possess them as though we
possessed them not_. We have a fair and liberal permission to use them
as his gift, and to his glory, but not to erect them into the supreme
objects of our attachment. In the same manner, in every other point, it
is still the spirit of the act, the temper of the mind, to which we are
to look. For instance, I do not think that I am obliged to show my faith
by sacrificing my son, nor my obedience by selling all that I have, to
give to the poor; but I think I am bound by the spirit of these two
powerful commands, to practice a cheerful acquiescence in the whole will
of God, in suffering and renouncing as well as in doing, when I know
what is really his will."

CHAPTER XX.

The pleasant reflections excited by the interesting conversation of the
evening were cruelly interrupted by my faithful Edwards. "Sir," said he,
when he came to attend me, "do you know that all the talk of the Hall
to-night at supper was, that Miss Stanley is going to be married to
young Lord Staunton. He is a cousin of Mrs. Carlton's, and Mr. Stanley's
coachman brought home the news from thence yesterday. I could not get at
the very truth, because Mrs. Comfit was out of the way, but all the
servants agree, that thoug