irresistibly reminded here of the closing verse of the _Address to the
Deil_, by Burns:--

"But fare ye weel, Auld Nickie ben!
Gin ye wad take a thought and mend,
Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken--
Still has a stake
I'm was to think upon yon den
Fen for your sake."

The old schoolmen and fathers seem to agree that the Devil and his
ministers have bodies in some sort material, subject to passions and
liable to injury and pain. Origen has a curious notion that any evil
spirit who, in a contest with a human being, is defeated, loses from
thenceforth all his power of mischief, and may be compared to a wasp who
has lost his sting.

"The Devil," said Samson Occum, the famous Indian preacher, in a
discourse on temperance, "is a gentleman, and never drinks."
Nevertheless it is a remarkable fact, and worthy of the serious
consideration of all who "tarry long at the wine," that, in that state of
the drunkard's malady known as delirium tremens, the adversary, in some
shape or other, is generally visible to the sufferers, or at least, as
Winslow says of the Powahs, "he appeareth more familiarly to them than to
others." I recollect a statement made to me by a gentleman who has had
bitter experience of the evils of intemperance, and who is at this time
devoting his fine talents to the cause of philanthropy and mercy, as the
editor of one of our best temperance journals, which left a most vivid
impression on my mind. He had just returned from a sea-voyage; and, for
the sake of enjoying a debauch, unmolested by his friends, took up his