Now and then we meet a man engaged in preaching who has been converted from a very dissolute kind of life. He seems to think that he has special claims upon the attention of others, and peculiar power over them, because of that reckless, sinful course. He delights in recounting the evil deeds of his former life, and minutely dwells upon them, with a sort of satisfaction to himself and a ghastly pleasure to the mass of his hearers. His speeches, partaking more or less of the sensational character, often draw large crowds to hear them. But for what purpose do they go? Is it that they may learn to lead a better life? I fear not. It is not so much to hear of a purer life to be lived, as to hear the details of a sinful life past; not so much to learn what to do to be saved, as to learn how much a man may do in sin, and then have a brilliant conversion, and get to Heaven. The retailing of the deeds of a dissolute life has a charm for some people. They will attend criminal trials and sit for hours, never weary, to hear the secret plots of crime unfolded, and to listen to the harrowing tales of darkest deeds. But why should a preacher like to tell of his past wicked life? Why dwell on it? Why not, as Paul did, "forgetting the things that are behind," go on to something better? Why not drop the veil over those deeds of which they ought to be ashamed? We rejoice to know that the very wicked are often converted, but I would rather hear the man preach who has never led such a life. I would rather hear one tell his experience who has one more in keeping with common mortals and the declarations of the New Testament. No preacher ought to glory in that which should be his shame. Let him show by a godly walk and conversation what the Christian life is, and not for sensation's sake relate what his former evil life has been.—Truth.