was taking no inconsiderable share in the arguments and discussions of his fellowtravellers, who were two dissenting ministers.

"But without free-will what is virtue ?" said the thin-faced man, "and where is our responsibility?"

"Our virtue, sir," the other replied, "is a filthy rag; and our responsibility bids us cry aloud and spare not for mercy."

66 Why cry for mercy? To suppose mercy possible would be supposing a contradiction to your former assertions respecting necessity and pre destination."

Free-will and necessity! Hardy would not but listen attentively. It was not long since these subjects presenting themselves to his mind, he had been forcibly struck by the conviction that the question of right and wrong depended on the settlement of them. A thought new also to every boy, but older far than the first foundation stone of Damascus, Thebes, Memphis, or Babylon. He was surprised when he laid the matter before

Mr. Aveley to see him smile. Still more surprised when he heard him declare that it was a thing of no importance at all. He added, that in whatever way the question was decided by reasoning, the conditions on which God had given reason to man remained the same; and that all men acted from the powerful fact of free agency and responsibility in the conscience operating on the understanding. This was hardly satisfactory to the youth. But now, after a solemn moment of parting with his friend, who had spoken to him only of religion, and rectitude, and honour, the speculations of Milton's fallen angels had a new charm for him-by them he was sure the truth of what that friend had asserted would be proved.

Whether the burly arguer for predestination looked upon the lean defender of freewill as possessing anything of the angel or not, it is quite certain he regarded him as one of the utterly fallen and lost. The lean man, for his part, condescendingly considered

the other as merely a stupid fool, and with these sentiments they went on with their discussion very hotly. Beside the coachman sat a gentleman who seemed occasionally to listen to them with contempt, but he refrained from any share in the argument. Hardy did not resemble him, for Hardy was twenty years younger than he, was in a new position, full of new ideas suggested by the old and feeble ones of the combatants, so that now and then he put in a word either startlingly à-propos or mal à-propos.

At last, in a vehement speech which the maintainer of free-will made, gesticulating with much impressiveness, with a flourish of his hand he nearly knocked the coachman's hat off, which elicited a pithy ejaculation condemnatory of free-will. Yet it appeared afterwards that he was a free-will man to all intents and purposes; for, when the question seemed hopelessly lost in inextricable mazes of contradiction between the disputants, he interfered with, "What's the use of talking?

Ain't I a driving of these here cattle? And can't I drive them as I like?

And' isn't

every man a doing the same-only driving of himself instead of four-in-hand? Can't he slacken the reins and go to the devil if he likes? or, can't he drive steady and draw up all in good time?"

As he said this he suited the action to the word, for they had reached a place where they changed horses. He descended from the box when he had finished his harangue, and was followed by the free-will champion who highly applauded it. But the coachman returning to his post before the other, he was solemnly rebuked by the necessitarian for siding with a socinian.

"No socinian he, but a Lancashire mantold me so himself, for I drove him a stage or two a fortnight ago."

"You mistake the meaning of socinian." "Oh, perhaps it means shabby! for he ain't troubled with much coin-told me that too-said he had only coppers in his pocket."

VOL. I.

с

"No, no; not that." But the honest ignoramus on the subject of sects was attending to the passenger on the box seat and did not listen to any explanation. Hardy, however, ventured to say that although he did not take socinian to mean either a native of any place, or a miser, he had no idea of its true signification. This was a most agreeable opening for the stout man's religious eloquence, and, nothing daunted by the juxta-position of the so-named socinian, who just then resumed his place, he proceeded to hold forth on the reprehensible tenets which he ascribed to those to whom he gave that name. No sooner had he begun than the other put himself more fiercely on the defensive than before; and a religious battle followed the metaphysical one. If good and evil had been tossed to and fro like a shuttlecock, happiness and final misery now shared the same fortune.

All this was a living page of that of which Hardy in his quiet village had known no