near and dear friend; and their children will seem almost like my own. A current of counter thoughts rushed through his mind. He rose quickly and walked the room, with a feverish agitation he had never before experienced. But through all the conflict, the idea of saving his brother from suffering remained paramount to his own pain. The promised ride could not be avoided, but it proved a temptation almost too strong for the good unselfish man. Deborah's sweet face looked so pretty under the shadow of her plain bonnet; her soft hand remained in his so confidingly, when she was about to enter the chaise, and turned to speak to her mother; she smiled on him so affectionately, and called him Friend David, in such winning tones, that it required all his strength to avoid uttering the question, which for ever tiembled on his lips: "Dost thou love me, Deborah?" But always there rose between them the image of that dear brother, who slept in his arms in childhood, and shared the same apartment now. "Let him have the first chance," he said to himself. "If he is accepted, I will be resigned, and will be to them both a true friend through life." A very slight pressure of the hand alone betrayed his agitation, when he opened the door of her house, and said, "Farewell, Deborah." In a few days, Jonathan informed him that he was betrothed; and the magnanimous brother wished him joy with a sincere heart, concealing that it was a sad one. His first impulse was to go away, that he might not be daily reminded of what he had lost; but the fear of marring their happiness enabled himi to choose the wiser part of making at once the effort that must be made. No one suspected the sacrifice he laid on the altar of friendship. When the young couple were married, he taxed his ingenuity to furnish whatever he thought would please the bride, by its peculiar neatness and elegance. At first, he found it very hard to leave them by their cozy pleasant fireside, and go to his own solitary apartment, where he never before had dwelt alone; and when the bride and bridegroom looked at each other tenderly, the glance went through his heart like an arrow of fire. But when Deborah, with gentle playfulness, apologized for having taken his brother away from him, he replied, with a quiet smile, Nay, my friend, I have not lost a brother, I have only gained a sister." His self-denial seemed so easy, that the worldly might have thought it cost him little effort, and deserved no praise; but the angels loved him for it. By degrees he resumed his wonted serenity, and became the almost constant inmate of their house. A stranger might almost have doubted which was the husband; so completely were the three united in all their affections, habits, and pursuits. A little son and daughter came to strengthen the bond; and the affectionate uncle found his heart almost as much cheered by them, as if they had been his own. Many an agreeable young Friend would have willingly superintended a household for David; but there was a natural refinement in his character, which rendered it impossible to make a marriage of convenience. He felt more deeply than was apparent, that there was something wanting in his earthly lot; but he could not marry, ualess he found a woman whom he loved as dearly as he had loved Deborah; and such a one never again came to him. In Their years flowed on with quiet regularity, disturbed with few of the ills humanity is heir to. all the small daily affairs of life, each preferred the other's good, and thus secured the happiness of the whole. Abroad, their benevolence fell with the noiseless liberality of dew. The brothers both prospered in business, and Jonathan inherited a large portion of his father-in-law's handsome property. Never were a family so pillowed and cushioned on the carriage-road to heaven. But they were so simply and naturally virtuous, that the smooth path was less dangerous to them than to others. Reverses came at last in Jonathan's affairs. The failure of others, less careful than himself, involved ham in their disasters. But David was rich, and the idea of a separate purse was unknown between them; therefore the gentle Deborah knew no change in her household comforts and elegancies, and felt no necessity of diminishing their large liberality to the poor. At sixty-three years old, the younger brother departed this life, in the arms of his constant friend. The widow, who had herself counted sixty winters, had been for some time gradually declining in health. When the estate was settled, the property was found insufficient to pay debts. But the kiad friend, with the same delicate disinterestedness which had always characterized him, carefully concealed this fact. He settled a handsome fortune upon the widow, which she always supposed to be a portion of her husband's estate. Being executor, he managed affairs as he liked. He borrowed his own capital; and every quarter, he gravely paid her interest on his own money. In the refinement of his generosity, he was not satisfied to support her in the abundance to which she had been accustomed; he wished to have her totally unconscious of obligation, and perfectly free to dispose of the funds as she pleased. If His goodness was not limited to his own household. If a poor seamstress was declining in health, for want of exercise and variety of scene, David Trueman was sure to invite her to Niagara, or the Springs, as a particular favor to him, because he needed company. If there was a lone widow, peculiarly friendless, his carriage was always at her service. there was a maiden lady uncommonly homely, his arm was always ready as an escort to public places. Without talking at all upon the subject, he practically devoted himself to the mission of attending upon the poor, the unattractive, and the neglected. Thus the good old bachelor prevents his sympathies from congealing, and his heart from rusting The sunlight was taken away from his landscape of life; but little birds sleep in their nests, and sweet flowers breathe their fragrance lovingly through the bright moonlight of his tranquil exist out. ence. **Since 1857 Mrs. Child has written Autumnal Leaves: Tales and Sketches in Prose and Rhyme, followed in 1860 by The Right Way the Safe Way, proved by Emancipation in the British West Indies and Elsewhere. To these succeeded, Looking Towards Sunset, 1864, a series of extracts relating to old age, and the Freedmen's Book, 1865, a collection of plain stories and sketches. In 1867, Miria: A Romance of the Republic, narrated the hardships of quadroon life in ante-war times, while Fred, Maria, and Me told an attractive story of child-life, and Married Women, in 1871, gave the biographies of Good Wives. EDMUND D. GRIFFIN. EDMUND D. GRIFFIN, the second son of George Griffin, a leading member of the New York bar, and the author of a volume published in 1850, entitled The Gospel its own Advocate, was born at Wyoming, Penn-ylvania, September 10, 1804. He was a grandson, on the mother's side, of Colonel Zebulon Butler, who defended the valley against the British attack which terminated in the memorable ma-sacre of 1778. When two years old Edmund Griffin removed with his family to New York. He revisited Wyoming with his father in his thirteenth year, and attending religious service on the Sunday after their arrival, Mr. Griffin was requested in consequence of the absence of the clergyman to read a sermon. Not being very well he asked his son to read in his place, a request with which the boy, accustomed to obedience, after a moment's modest hesitation, complied. afterwards, mortal. It is a fact of interest in the history of that eminent prelate, as well as in the present connexion, that the last letter written by him was one of condolence with the father of Mr. Griffin on their joint bereavement. Mr. Griffin's Literary Remains were collected by his brother, and published with a memoir, written with characteristic feeling and taste, by his friend Professor McVickar, in two large octavo volumes. They include his poems, several of which are in the Latin language, and written at an early age; a tour through Italy and Switzerland in 1829, with extracts from a journal of a tour through France, England, and Scotland in the years 1828, '29, and '30; extracts from lectures on Roman, Italian, and English literature; and dissertations, written while the author was a student at the Theological Seminary. These were selected from manuscripts, which, if pub By far the greater portion of those printed, the journals and lectures, were necessarily written in great haste, and probably without any anticipation that they were to appear in print. The journals are the simple itinerary of a traveller, making no pretensions to any further literary merit; the lectures are more elaborate performances and possess much merit; the poems are few in number. LINES ON LEAVING ITALY. Deh! fossi tu men bella, o almen piu forte.-Filicaia. After passing through various schools young Griffin was prepared for college by Mr. Nelson, the celebrated blind teacher of New York. He entered Columbia in 1819, and maintained through-lished in full, would have filled six octavo voluines. out his course a position at the head of his class. After a few months passed in a law office in 1823, he resolved to engage in the ministry of the Protestant Episcopal Church, soon after commenced his studies in the General Theological Seminary, and was ordained deacon by Bishop Hobart in August, 1826. The two following years were passed in the active discharge of professional duty as assistant minister of St. James's church, Hamilton Square, near New York, and of Christ church in the city, when he was compelled by a threat, ened affection of the lungs to abandon the labors of the church and the study. By this relaxation, combined with the invigorating effects of a three months' tour, his health was restored, but, by the advice of his friends, instead of recommencing preaching he sailed for Europe. After a tour through England and the Continent he returned to New York on the 17th of April, 1830. Within a week afterwards he was called upon to complete a course of lectures on the History of Literature, commenced by Professor McVickar at Columbia College, and necessarily abandoned at the time from illness. He complied with the request, and at once entered upon its execution, delivering within the months of May and June a course on Roman and Italian literature, with that of England to the time of Charles the Second. These lectures, though prepared almost contemporaneously with their delivery, were so acceptable by their warm appreciation of the subject and scholar's enthusiasm, not only to the students but also the trustees of the college, that the plan of an independent professorship of literature, for Mr. Griffin, was proposed. The early part of the ensuing college vacation was spent in visits to his friends, and plans of study and future usefulness in his sacred profession. After a Saturday morning passed at the college with Professor Anthon in planning a course of study of the German language, to which he proposed to devote a portion of his remaining leisure, he employed the afternoon in a walk with his brother at Hoboken. He was taken ill on his return home with an attack of inflammation, sank rapidly, and died on the following Tuesday, Augu-t 31, 1830. The news of his decease reached Bishop Hobart at Auburn, where he too was lying in a sickness which was to prove, within a few days When thy sun sinks in glory, and a veil From tree to tree depending, and the flowers soon, E'en fallen columns and decaying towers. Would that thou wert less fair, at least more strong, ་ Yon broken arch once spoke of triumph, then That mouldering wall too spoke of brave defenceShades of departed heroes, rise again! Italians, rise, and thrust the oppressors hencel Oh, Italy! my country, fare thee well! For art thou not my country, at whose breast Were nurtured those whose thoughts within me dwell, The fathers of my mind? whose fame imprest, E'en on my infant fancy, bade it rest With patriot fondness on thy hills and streams, Lovelier than I had seen thee in my dreams? But must I rove by Arno's current clear, And hear the rush of Tiber's yellow flood, And wander on the mount, now waste and drear, Where Cæsar's palace in its glory stood; And see again Parthenope's loved bay, And Paestum's shrines, and Baiae's classic shore, And mount the bark, and listen to the lay That floats by night through Venice-never more? Far off I seem to hear the Atlantic roar It washes not thy feet, that envious sea, But waits, with outstretched arms, to waft me o'er To other lands, far, far, alas! from thee. Fare, fare thee well once more. I love thee not As other things inanimate. Thou art The cherished mistress of my youth; forgot Thou never canst be while I have a heart. Lanched on those waters, wild with storm and wind, I know not, ask not, what may be my lot; For, torn from thee, no fear can touch my and, Brooding in gloom on that one bitter thought. JOHN HENRY HOPKINS. JOHN HENRY HOPKINS, the son of a merchant of Dublin, was born in that city January 30, 1792. He was brought by his parents to this country in 1800. After receiving a classical education at school, he passed a twelvemonth in a countinghouse in Philadelphia; assisted Wilson, the ornithologist, in the preparation of the plates to the first four volumes of his work; and was afterwards engaged for several years in the manufacture of iron. Mr. Hopkins married in 1816, and in 1817 was admitted to the bar at Pittsburg. He practised with great success until November, 1823, when he abandoned the profession to enter the ministry of the Protestant Episcopal Church. After his ordination as deacon, in December, 1823, by Bishop White, by whom he was also admitted to the priesthood in 1824, he became Rector of Trinity Church, Pittsburg, where he remained until 1831, when he removed to Boston as assistant minister of Trinity Church. In October, 1832, he was consecrated the first bishop of the diocese of Vermont, and since that time resided at Burlington till his death, January 9, 1868. Bishop Hopkins is the author of several volumes on the evidences of Christianity, the primitive church, and the distinctive principles of Episcopacy, all of which exhibit research, and are * Christianity Vindicated, in seven Discourses on the External Evidences of the New Testament, with a Dissertation. Published by Ed. Smith, Burlington, Vt.. 1833. The Primitive Creed Examined and Explained, the first part written in a forcible and animated style. He has also published a number of separate sermons and pamphlets. The Life of the late Rt. Rev. John Henry Hopkins, First Bishop of Vermont, and Seventh Presiding Bishop, by One of his Sons, appeared in 1873. containing sixteen discourses on the Apostles' Creed, for popular use the second part containing a dissertation on the testimony of the early councils and the fathers, with observations on certain theological errors of the present day. Published by the same, 1834. The Primitive Church, compared with the Protestant Episcopal Church of the present day, being an examination of the ordinary objections against the church in doctrine, worship, and government, designed for popular use, with a dissertation on sundry points of theology and practice. Published by V. Harrington at Burlington, Vt., 1835. A second edition, revised and improved, was printed the following year. Essay on Gothic Architecture, with various plans and drawings for churches, de signed chiefly for the "se or the clergy. Royal quarto. Published by Smith & Flarrington, Burlington, 1336. The Church of Rome in her Primitive Purity, compared with the Church of Rome at the present day, addressed to the Roman Hierarchy. 12ino. Published by V. Harrington, Burlington, 1337. Repubished, with an introduction by Rev. Henry Melvill, B.D., at London, in 1839. The Novelties which Disturb our Peace. 12mo. Published by Herman Hooker, Philadelphia, 1844. Sixteen Lectures on the Causes, Principles, and Results of the British Reformation. Phila., 101. The History of the Confc, lonal. 12mo. Published by Harper & Brothers, New York, 185). The End of Controversy, Controverted: a Refutation of Milner's End of Controversy, in series of letters addressed to the Roman Archbishop of Baltimore. 2 vols. 12.no. PubStanford & Swords, New lished by Pudaey & Russell, York, in 1854. The American Citizen: His Rights and Duties According to the Spirit of the Constitution, New York, 1857. A Scriptural, Ecclesiastical, and Historical View of Slavery, New York, 1863. The Law of Ritualism, New York, 1866. History of the Church in Verse, New York, 1866. Candid Examination whether the Pope is the Great Antichrist of Scripture, New York, 1869. Sermon, preached by request before the Howard Benevolent Society, Boston, 1832. Sermon, preached by request before the Church Scholarship Society at Hartford, Conn., 1832. Sermon, preached by request, at Burlington, on the doctrine of Atonement, 1841. Scripture and Tradition, Sermon preached at the Ordination of Deacons, New York, 1841. Charge to the Clergy of Vermont, 1842. Letter to the Right Rev. F. P. Kenrick, Roman Bishop of Philadelphia, 1842. Second Letter to the same, 1843, of which there were two editions. Two Discourses on the Second Advent, of which there were four editions. Humble but Earnest Address to the Bishops, Clergy, and Laity, on the Progress of Tractarianism. Published 1846. Pastoral Letter and Correspondence with Rev. Wm. Henry Hoit. Sermon before the General Convention of 1847. Sermon on Episcopal Government, preached at the consecration of Bishop Potter, of Pennsylvania, 1845. Letter to Rev. Dr. Seabury, on Tractarianism, 1847. Two Discourses, preached by request in the Cathedral of Quebec, on the Religious Education of the Poor. Published 1835. Lecture on the Defect of the Principle of Religious Authority in Modern Education, delivered by request before the American Institute of Instruction, at Montpelier, about the year 1846 or 1847. Discourse on Fraternal Unity, delivered by appointment before the Missionary Board, at the General Convention of 1850, in Cincinnati. Address, delivered by request of the Selectmen of St. Alban's, on the death of General Taylor, President of the United States, 1850. Address, by request, before the Prot. Ep. Historical Society, New York, 1851. Lecture on Slavery-its religious sanction, its political dangers, and the best method of doing it away, delivered before the Young Men's Associations of Buffalo and Lockport. Pub lished by request, Phinney & Co., Buffalo, 1851. Discourse, preached by request, in aid of the Fund for the Widows and Orphans of Deceased Clergymen. Boston, 1851. Pastoral Letter on the Support of the Clergy, 1852, and 1854. Defence of the Constitution of the Diocese of Vermont, 1854. Tract for the Church in Jerusalem, 1854, The True Principles of Restoration to the Episcopal Office. The next four years were passed in desultory reading and study. His preference was early formed for a clerical career, but from a distrust of his fitness for the holy office, a distrust arising solely from the modesty which characterized him through life, it was not until 1826 that he finally decided to enter the ministry. He commenced his preparatory studies at the General Theological Seminary in New York, where, owing to ill health, he remained but a short time. After passing a brief period at New Haven he went to Hartford, where he edited, with Mr. now Bishop Doane, a religious newspaper, The Episcopal Watchman. in relation to the case of Right Rev. Henry U. Onderdonk, D.D., 1854. Address, delivered by request before the House of Convocation of Trinity College, Hartford, Conn., 1854, Discourse, by request, on the Historical Evidences of Christianity, at St. Andrew's Church, Philadelphia. Published 1854. Harry Croswell was in the early part of his life a prominent political editor of the Federal party. He commenced his career in The Balance, a paper published at Hudson, New York, which divided the honors with the Farmer's Museum at Walpole, as one of the first literary journals of the country. Mr. Croswell was associated in this enterprise with Ezra Sampson, a clergyman by education, who came to Hudson to officiate in the Presbyterian church of the village, but from lack of effectiveness as a public speaker retired from the pulpit. He subsequently gained a wide popular reputation as the author of a series of essays, with the title of The Bri f Remarker, which were collected from the columns of the Hartford Courant, and printed in a volume. The collection was republished in 1855 by D. Appleton & Co. The essays it contains are briefly written compositions, and are in a vein of practical common sense. Mr. Sampson was also the author The Beauties of the Bible, a selection of passages from the sacred volume, and of an Historical Dictionary. Mr. Croswell wrote his editorials with vigor, and, in accordance with the prevailing spirit of the press at that time, spoke with great bitterness of his political opponents. An article published in the Wasp, a journal also under his direction, on Jefferson, led to a libel suit, and the celebrated trial in which Hamilton, in defence of the editor, made his last forensic effort. Mr. Croswell afterwards removed to Albany, where he established a Federal paper. He was here prosecuted for a libel on Mr. Southwick, a leading democratic editor, who recovered damages. Mr. Croswell called on his political friends to enable him to meet the pecuniary requirements of their service, and on their refusal to do so retired from editorial life, and a few months after entered the ministry of the Episcopal Church. He died at New Haven, March 13, 1858. He commenced his poetical career in the columns of this journal with a number of sonnets and short poems, which were much admired and widely copied. At the end of the second year of their joint editorship Mr. Doane removed to Boston to become the rector of Trinity church, and Mr. Croswell retired to devote himself exclusively to his studies. In 1828 he was ordained deacon by Bishop Brownell of Connecticut. He has described the emotions of this solemn event in one of the most beautiful of his compositions: THE ORDINAL. Alas, for me, could I forget The memory of that day Which fills my waking thoughts, nor yet E'en sleep can take away; In dreams I still renew the rites Whose strong but mystic chain How oft the Bishop's form I see, The heart for God alone! As then, the sacramental host As then they on my vision rose, The mitre o'er the marble niche, The hangings, the baptismal font,- With decency arranged; To bless the bread and wine.. To serve the Lord, from first to last, O Thou, who in Thy holy place That so, replenished from above, In 1829 Mr. Croswell was admitted to the priesthood, and became rector of Christ church, an ancient edifice in the vicinity of Copp's Hill burial-ground, Boston. He continued his poetical contributions, which were almost exclusively on topics connected with church ordinances, or the duties and affections of Christian life. A portion of these were collected and appended by Bishop Doane to the first American edition of Keble's Christian Year. In 1840 Mr. Croswell resigned the rectorship of Christ's, and accepted that of St. Peter's church, Auburn. He remained in this parish for four years, and during that period married, and became the father of a daughter. In 1844 he returned to Boston to take the rectorship of a new parish, in process of formation by a number of Episcopalians and distinguished men of that city, among whom may be mentioned Mr. Richard H. Dana and his son, on the principle of a rigid adherence to the rubrics of the prayer-book in its worship, an enlarged system of parochial charity, and a provision by collections and subscriptions in the place of pew rents for the support of the rector, leaving the seats of the church free to all comers. An upper room was fitted up in an appropriate manner, and on the first Sunday in Advent, 1844, the new rector commenced the services of the parish, which, from this commencement, took the name of the Church of the Advent. Morning and evening prayer was henceforward continued every day of the year. In conducting divine service, the rector, during the mutual acts of prayer and praise turned in the same direction with, instead of, as usual, facing the other worshippers, and preached in the surplice instead of changing it for a black gown. These practices gave great offence to the bishop of the diocese, Dr. Eastburn, who at the close of his first confirmation service in the church, expressed his disapprobation, coupled with a censure of a gilt cross placed over the communion table. This was followed in a few days by an official letter to the same effect addressed to the diocese by the bishop. Dr. Croswell, believing himself unjustly censured, responded in a letter, citing authorities from the primitive and subsequent ages of the church in defence of his plan. He also complained of the bishop for uncanonical conduct in publicly censuring a presbyter without giving the opportunity of defence by means of a trial. Both parties believing themselves in the right, no accommodation was made of the matter; the bishop refu ed to visit the church unless the practices he objected to were di-continued, and the parish held their course. In consequence of this, candidates for confirmation were obliged, accompanied by their rector, to resort to other churches to receive the rite. In spite of this unhappy difficulty the parish prospered. The rector was indefatigable in the discharge of the duties of charity, sallying forth at all hours and in all weathers to relieve the poor and needy, visit and comfort the sick and dying. During seasons of pestilence he remained in the city, continuing his church services as usual and redoubling his care of the sick, with the energy and devotion required by the crisis. Such a career soon won its just meed of boundless honor and love from all who came within its sphere. It was, however, destined to be as brief as beautiful. Seven years had thus passed from his arrival at Boston to become rector of the Church of the Advent, and the upper room had been exchanged for an edifice purchased from a congregation of another denomination, possessing no architectural beauty, but spacious and commodious, when in the delivery of a sermon to the children of the congregation at the afternoon service of Sunday, November 9, 1851, the rector's voice was observed to falter. He brought his discourse to an abrupt close, and gave out the first stanza of the hymn Soldiers of Christ, arise And put your armor on, Strong in the strength which Christ supplies, This he announced instead of the lxxxviii., as the The numbered hour is on the wing The choir, however, following directions previously given, sang the former. At its conclusion he knelt in his ordinary place at the chancel rail, and said from memory, his book having dropped from his hand, a collect. He then, still kneeling, in place of as usual standing and facing the congregation, delivered, in a faltering voice, the closing benediction. A portion of the auditory went to his assistance, and bore him helpless to the vestry-room and in a carriage to his home. He was conscious, but unable to speak distinctly, and uttered but a few words. Apprised by his physicians of his imminent danger he closed his eyes as if in slumber. His friend, the Rev. Dr. Eaton, was soon by his bedside, and finding him unable to speak, and apparently unconscious, took his hand, and offered the "commendatory prayer for a sick person at the point of departure," provided "As the word, by the Book of Cominon-Prayer. amen, was pronounced by the venerable priest, the last breath was perceived to pass, gently, quietly, and without a struggle." The beautiful harmony of the death with the life of Dr. Croswell, combined with the respect felt for his talents and example, called forth many expressions of sympathy with his bereaved family and congregation. At his funeral his body was carried from his house to the church by eight of his parishioners, and accompanied by a committee of wardens and vestrymen to the cemetery at New Ilaven, where it was buried, in conformity with the wishes of the deceased, "deep in the ground." The affecting scene of the ninth of November is commemorated regularly on the annual recurrence of the day by an appropriate sermon. In 1853 a biography of Dr. Croswell, by his father, was published in one octavo volume. It contains, in addition to selections from his correspondence, a collection of his poems, scattered through the narrative in the order in which they were written, and in connexion with the events by which they were, in some cases, occasioned. These poems were never collected by their author, and have not appeared in a separate collective form |