"WELL, I am thankful to hear such good old-fashioned preaching," she said, as she came out of church, after hearing a sermon on Luke 19: 10: "The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." "But, auntie," I said, "why do you call it 'old-fashioned preaching'?" "Because," she replied; "because, like good old Mr. Baxter's books, it makes one feel the awful guilt of sin, and the wonderful mercy of Christ in coming to save us from its condemnation and from its reigning power in our hearts and lives." "But, auntie, is not almost all the preaching what, in that sense, you might call 'good old-fashioned preaching'? Does it not tell us of the sinfulness of sin, and the mercy of God, in Christ Jesus, to all who repent and believe on him?" "No, Henry, I am sorry to say, it don't. There is too much preaching on the outskirts of the gospel instead of preaching the full gospel itself; and some, I am sorry to say, that don't seem to get even to the outskirts. Why, only six weeks ago I heard a minister in Massachusetts give a long essay, which he would probably call a sermon, on a possible probation after death for some who had not repented in this life. And though he did say that he supposed the doctrine referred particularly to the heathen, I could not but think that some who heard him might believe they stood just as good a chance as the heathen could, and so put off repentance now, while life and probation continue. And then the next Sunday I heard, from a young man, a sermon, I suppose he would call it, but I should call it a discourse or essay, on the beauties of autumn; and though it was well written and well delivered, there was no mention of Christ, or of sin, or of duty in it, and it might just as well have been given by some heathen moralist or poet as by him." "But, auntie, you don't think all the preaching is like that, do you?" "Well, I can't say all, by any means; but there is too much of it—too much that has no kind of gospel in it. Why, only last week I read an advertisement in the daily paper, by a minister in H—, that he would preach on 'Orange Peel on the Sidewalk,' and of another in F—, on 'Giving the Wink,' and of still another who in his sermon had seventeen quotations from the classics and the poets, and only three from the Bible! What do you suppose Paul, or Whitefield, or Brainard, or Edwards, or Nettleton would have thought of that?" I was telling a friend afterward of all this, and he said, "I am sorry to say there is too much truth in what your good old aunt has been saying. If we had far more of the faithful and searching preaching of the law, like that of Nettleton and of Finney in his best days, we should see far deeper impressions of the exceeding sinfulness of sin and of the need of the grace which is offered in Christ Jesus, and the Christian character of many in our churches would be broader and more substantial, and more intelligent and serious than it now is." And he added, "There is great truth and wisdom in what Spurgeon says, and which I wish all our preachers would remember, viz.: Preach the law, that men may deeply feel their sinfulness; then the gospel, that they may be led to Christ for pardon; and then the law again, as the great rule of life, that they may so live as to obey and honor Christ, and that all may so take knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus as to be led to him as their Saviour." To all which I could but say, "Amen!"—The Presbyterian.