of serious reflection. At length, however, he yielded to the truth that his recovery was, at least, doubtful, if not altogether improbable, and then he applied himself more earnestly to the state of his soul. On the subject of pardon and justification, his views were clear and scriptural. "All I want,” said he, "is to feel more deeply my sinfulness, and to possess an assurance of my safety in Christ."

On Tuesday, June 8, I saw and conversed with him for an hour, during which he spoke more freely of his state. I read to him some extracts from the Youths' Magazine, which he said exactly suited his case, and with which he appeared much interested. One of the extracts was upon Regeneration, and the other on Promptitude, in the number for April, 1842, pages 110 and 124. This visit appeared as profitable to him as it was satisfactory to me. He spoke of that striking hymn with much energy, as expressive of his experience,

"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly;
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is nigh!
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,

O receive my soul at last!"

He frequently asserted his entire reliance on the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation, to the entire exclusion of works as meritorious.

The following morning I was sent for, at an early hour, to see him. The change upon him was evident; all strength seemed to have deserted him. His pale and emaciated visage, his exhausted frame and difficult breathing, too plainly indicated that his spirit was about to quit its earthly abode. To the questions I proposed, "Are you happy? Is Christ your only hope?" He replied, in a whisper, "Yes." I read to him a hymn from Burder's Selection, which he had pointed out, as expressive of his thoughts,

"Yes, there's a better world on high,

Hope on, thou pious breast;

Faint not, thou traveller to the sky,

Thy weary feet shall rest.

Through death, that vale of awful shade,
Thy feet shall surely go;

Yet there, even there, walk undismay'd,
'Tis thy last scene of wo.

Farewell till that great morning rise,

The frame I hold so dear;

Till He who lives for ever, dies,

Farewell to every tear."

He was now so exhausted as to be unable to speak, and became gradually weaker, till at length nature altogether failed, and he expired about five o'clock, aged twenty-seven.

The event speaks loudly to all. To his parents, particularly it conveys the admonition, Prepare to meet your God.' To his brothers it says, ‘Seek the Lord while he may be found.' To the youths of this congregation, it expresses the necessity of early religion. How indifferent soever the deceased appeared at the commencement of his illness, he was eventually constrained to acknowledge its imperative claim, and we trust, experienced its full

power, in leading him to the Son of God for salvation, May the congregation present feel the impression of the subject, and each one be deeply affected by the solemn truth,—“ I know that Thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all the living."

HAVE YOU A PRAYING MOTHER?

I HAVE frequently read the memoir of the Rev. Legh Richmond; it is a most edifying and refreshing volume: I have just now commenced a re-perusal of it; the following paragraph I have copied, and hope you will indulge me by its insertion; I pray God to bless the reading of it in your pages to many dear young R. H. S.

persons.

Pimlico.

"Ye that are mothers, and whose office more peculiarly is to instil into the minds of your offspring an habitual reverence for God, and a knowledge of the great truths of the gospel, be earnest in your endeavours to fulfil the duties which Providence has assigned to you, and which your tenderness, your affection, and the constant recurrence of favourable opportunities, so admi

rably fit you to discharge. Consecrate them to God in early youth with faith and prayer; and remember that the child of many prayers is in possession of a richer treasure than the child of the amplest honors, and the greatest possessions: for the child of many prayers can never perish so long as prayer is availing. To faith all things are possible, and the promise stands firm, 'I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring.' (Isaiah xliv. 3.) Pray then for them, and with them. There is an efficacy in the bended knee, in the outstretched hand, in the uplifted heart, in the accents of prayer issuing from the lips of a mother, supplicating God to bless her child, that faith may trust to, and patience wait for, and the future shall one day realize. There is also a solemnity in the act itself, peculiarly calculated to elicit all the best feelings of the heart, and to quicken it in the diligent use of the means best adapted, through divine mercy, to insure the blessing."

THE LITTLE CHINESE SUNDAY SCHOLAR. Two of the Chinese boys in the school of Penang died during the last year. "One of these," writes the superintendent, "was about seven years of age,—a very promising little boy. He was with us about one year, during which he was repeatedly detained at home by illness. A few weeks before his death he became very unwell, and his mother was allowed to take him home to nurse him, but he grew gradually worse, and died. His mother has since called on us, and seems to take a melancholy pleasure in telling us of the sweet spirit he latterly displayed. During his illness she often heard him repeating the lessons and passages of Scripture he had learned at school, and frequently perceived him engaged in prayer. Even on the day he died, he entreated his mother to take him back to school."

SENECA ON PRAISE.

PRAISE little; but dispraise less.

WRITING AND READING.

How vulgar, and yet how marvellous, is writing! or "putting down words upon paper," as it is commonly called-words which are without form and substance! impalpable as moonshine! thoughts wrapt in air! ethereal couriers from mind to mind! volatile as lightning! short-lived as an instant! and yet we transfix them, drag them from the air of which they are part, nail the very breath to paper, and render that permanent which is by nature as transient as time, giving figure to what the wildest imagination cannot conceive to be figured; sketching sound; making the voice visible, and the eye to hear. It is the distillation of thought!

Nor is the act of reading a whit less wonderful. We glance at a few fantastic figures, and the inmost recesses of another's soul are instantly revealed to us; the secret processes of his mind are laid bare to us, like so much clockwork: we see him think, and look, as it were, into his very conscience. We cast our eye along a series of grotesque cyphers, and lo! the absent are with us; the past becomes the present; the dead are brought to life. Space melts, and time rolls backward: death no longer kills.

One word, and the

gates of the grave are flung back, and the long-deceased start into life.

What to teach.

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER SENT TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD.

"HAVING myself lost a beloved infant, I am the more prepared to weep with you. I know how keen must be the sorrow produced by the repeated visits of the last enemy, though when he comes for the purpose for which he has been recently commissioned to your abode, he seems deprived of his most appalling character.

"It is often difficult to read God's kindness in the severer strokes of his providence; but all his intentions are gracious, since 'he does not willingly afflict the children of men;' he wounds that he may heal.

"It is important to obtain all the benefit intended, from our afflictions, and therefore, it is not enough to remain mentally bending over the house of clay. There is a solace in following the spirits, of such as we hope have slept in Jesus, to the bosom of their Saviour and their God, and then, the mind is not to be Hh

engrossed with the spirit of the departed; the attention is to be directed to God himself, and to the glories of the Lamb, who is in the midst of the throne. In thus addressing you the third time, he seems to speak with additional emphasis; he says, he will not have you satisfied with any thing short of himself. If it be his will, I trust the dear young ones that remain will be spared to be a comfort to you, and will serve on earth that Saviour, whom the departed praise in a more pure and exalted state of being."

E. W. M.

PRETENSIONS OF HEATHEN WRITERS.

THE earliest profane writers, in order to disguise the fact of their having borrowed from the Mosaic records, have always exaggerated to an absurd extent the chronology of the several countries of which they undertook to write the history. But the mere circumstance of their consciousness that they were under an obligation to begin at the beginning of the present constitution of things, shews that they were the first, each in his separate department, in the field of enquiry; and that consequently their writings are to be regarded rather as conjectural, than as based on any thing approaching to documentary evidence.

For why, under any other supposition should the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Chinese, the Phenicians, and the Hindoos have meddled with the creation of the world at all, when by their own account, a succession of ages, some of them far more glorious and highly-favored than their own, had rolled between them and their primogenitors. If in these early days, the countries referred to, had been peopled by a succession of gods, demigods, heroes, and sages, how came it to pass that they had left no records of their origin or achievements? If they had done so, their descendants could have been under no necessity of groping their way back to the beginning of time; and if they had not done so, there could be no data in the possession of subsequent authors, to give value or authority to their annals.

SOCRATES ON JUSTICE.

No man can be just, without the fear of God.