ou flavor it--but, indeed, if I were, as I have been, before I was
graciously called and chosen, I would have recourse to a harmless
gallantry, and say that this most ambrosial beverage must have caught
its sweetness from your lips--its fragrance from your breath--and its
lustre from your eyes--I would say so--if I were as I have been--and,
indeed, as I am--even yet, frail, Eliza, still frail, and very far,
indeed, from perfection--but--still, even as I am I could scarcely
scruple to relapse a little--yea, only a little, Eliza, for the sake of
such lips--of such eyes--and such a fragrant breath. Alas! we are all
frail.'

"'But, Mr. M'Slime, I surely didn't think that you who stand so high
in the religious world, and that the people look upon as a saint, would
talk as you do.'

"'Ah, Eliza, my dear girl, it is very natural for you in your hitherto
darkened state to say so; but, sweet Eliza, if you had your privileges,
you could understand me. For instance, in the indulgence of this
precious little dialogue with you, I am only following up a duty that
strengthens myself; for, Eliza, my precious creature, if more light were
given you, you would be permitted to feel that an occasional lapse is
for our good, by showing us our own weakness and how little we can do
of ourselves. No--there is nothing which gives us so much confidence and
strength as to know our own weakness; but, my sweet girl, of what use is
it for us to know it, if we do not feel it; and why feel it--unless we
suffer it for better purposes to teach us a practical lesson to humble
us.'

"'That's queer doctrine, Mr. M'Slime, and I don't properly understand
it.'

"'I know you don't, my darling girl; for it has not been given to you,
as yet, to understand it. Nay, it seems, as it were, a stumbling block
to you, in your present state.'

"'Why, do you think me so very great a sinner, sir?'

"'Not by acts, Eliza--and what a soft name is Eliza--soft as a pillow
of down--but by condition. You are exalted now, upon pride--not personal
pride, but the pride of position. You think you are incapable of error
or infirmity, but you must be brought--down to a sense of your own
frailty, as it were, for it is upon a consciousness of that, that you
must build.'

"'That is to say, I must commit sin first, in order to know the grace of
repentance afterwards.'

"'You put it too strongly, Eliza; but here is the illustration:--You
know it is said 'there is joy in heaven ov