Morning Star

The Young Lawyer.

BY BISHOP CHASE.

There lived in Poughkeepsie, at this time, a venerable lady and her talented son-in-law.

The former was exceedingly anxious about the latter, because of his loose and infidel opinions on religious subjects; and yet few men were more amiable in manners, or more sprightly in conversation. "O, Sir," said the lady to the writer, "I wish you to have a serious conversation with my son-in-law, on the subject of Christianity. Perhaps he may hearken to you, though to all of us he turns a deaf ear, whenever we speak on the holy scriptures."

A proposal of this nature seemed to be identified with the writer's profession. Accordingly a day was appointed when the lady would spend a social afternoon with the writer and his family, there being no doubt that the interesting young lawyer would, if properly invited, join the party at tea.

The interview took place as was expected, and, in the full flow of talk, something was designedly introduced touching the Christian religion. Contrary to the expectation of his relatives and friends, this interesting gentleman did neither evade nor oppose what was said, but candidly confessed he was differently impressed on that subject from what he had been. "Till a few days ago," said he, "I should have brought forward my preliminaries, and before the threshold of Christianity were passed, I would have insisted that they be all satisfactorily answered; but at present I feel differently disposed."

"And what has wrought the change?" asked the writer.

"O Sir," said he, "I must tell the whole story; it relates chiefly to General Hamilton."

"You know," said he, "that preeminent character—how that he is not only the greatest in the field, in the senate, and at the bar, but also the most agreeable man in social intercourse. In pursuit of his professional duties, he passes from New York to Albany, to attend the higher courts, and Poughkeepsie is his stopping place for rest and social chat. We young lawyers delight to meet him at Hendrickson's tavern and there breathe together the atmosphere of wit and satire. Not long since, he passed by: we gathered round him, and he greeted us with his usual cordiality. But there was something altered in his wit—it was solemn, yet more affectionate. At length, to break the spell, I ventured, as erst, a story, the edge of which was ridicule against Christians and their creed. As I finished the anecdote, instead of the loud laugh, the responsive tale, the General gravely asked me if I knew what I had been talking of? Confusion is the best name I can give my feelings and behavior before the great man at such a question from his lips. Seeing my embarrassment, he said he did not design to give me pain, but by his question, to call my attention to his own case.

Not many months ago,' said he, I was, as you are, doubtful of the truths of Christianity; but some circumstances turned my thoughts to the investigation of the subject, and I now think differently. I had been in company with some friends of a similar sentiment in New York. I had indulged in remarks much to the disadvantage of Christians, and disparagement of their religion. I had then gone further than before I had done in this way. Coming home, I stood, late at night, on the door steps, waiting for my servant. In this moment of stillness, my thoughts returned to what had just passed at my friend's, & on what I had said there. And what if the Christian religion be true, after all? The thought certainly was natural, and it produced in my bosom the most alarming feelings. I was conscious that I had never examined it—not even with that attention which a small retaining fee requires in civil cases. In this, I hold myself bound to make up my mind according to the laws of evidence; and shall nothing be done of this sort, in a question that involves the fate of man's immortal being? Where every thing is at stake, shall I bargain all without inquiry?—Wilfully blinding my own eyes, shall I laugh at that, which, if true, will laugh me to scorn in the day of judgment? These questions did not allow me to sleep quietly. In the morning I sent to my friends, the clergy, for such books as treated on the evidence of Christianity—I read them, and the result is, I believe the religion of Christians to be the truth—that Jesus Christ is the Son of God—that he made an atonement for our sins by his death, and that he rose for our justification.'"

"This is the substance of General Hamilton's declaration to me at Hendrickson's and you may judge how I feel since. As I have followed the General in many other respects, so would I imitate him here."

"Will you lend me books, that I may read, as he did, before I give my opinion?"

The books were accordingly taken to his house, but he never read them. A press of business intervened. He put off his duty to a more convenient season; that season never came till it was too late. A sudden disease deprived him of reason and of life. This talented and interesting young lawyer passed from a temporal to an eternal state—and let the word of God tell the rest.

The story of General Hamilton, which this talented person was the means of communicating to the writer, ought not to be forgotten. It was, from the time the writer heard it, of the deepest interest; and when the tidings came of the General's death, it formed the basis of a sermon preached in Poughkeepsie, on the 2d day of July, 1804. This story is recorded here, because it forms a part of the writer's reminiscences.—West. Ep. Obs.