maintain good works;" and "be careful, not for the things which are seen, but for the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." "These things are good and profitable unto men."

-

I would now ask you, my reader, whether you are careful and anxious about your worldly concerns, your merchandise and your gains, your pleasures and amusements. I would ask you whether, in sinful distrust of that gracious Being who rules over and protects you - who upholds and supports you you look forward, with trembling anxiety and care, for the meat which perisheth, and how, for the future, your wants may be supplied? If this be so, and I fear that all of us must more or less plead guilty to the charge of weakness of faith and distrustfulness of God,-let me impress on you the necessity of cheerful and unqualified obedience to the command of the apostle, "Be careful for nothing;" and also to that of the Saviour himself, "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, nor yet for your body, what Is not the life more shall put on. ye than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air; for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?"

It is, however, our duty, to labour diligently in our several avocations and pursuits; it is part of the curse, that "in the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread, till thou return unto the ground;" yet we must live without distrustfulness and fear, and look to God alone for a blessing on our labours. "Prosper thou, O Lord, the work of our hands upon us; O prosper thou our handiwork." "Behold the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain ;" and thus, when his part of the work is performed, he commendeth it into the hands of his heavenly Father, and sleeps, and rises, night and day, and the seed springeth and groweth up, he knoweth not how. In like manner, do you 66 cast all your care upon God, for he careth for you;" and when you pray, "Give us this day our daily bread," make not a mockery of your prayers, nor render them nugatory and vain, by doubting whether you shall receive what you ask for; but ask in faith, and "ye shall receive, that your joy may be full." Commit the matter wholly to God, and disturb not yourselves with fearful anticipations for the future; but concerning your temporal affairs, and the things of this probationary life, "be careful for nothing." To those of my readers

Your

who are poor, this may appear a hard saying. Your families are large, your wages small; or perhaps you may be in want of employment, and " no man hath hired you." condition is confessedly wretched and pitiable; but I would ask you, Have you always trusted in the Lord? May not your present need be a punishment for former distrustfulness? "I have been young," says the Psalmist," and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." Let this encourage you to cast all your care upon God; and with respect to the perishable things of this sinful and perishing world, "Be careful for nothing." "Trust in the Lord and do good: so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed."

Biography.

THE VENERABLE JOSIAS SHUTE, B.D.,

Archdeacon of Colchester, and Rector of St. Mary
Woolnoth, London.

This devoted servant of God, whose name is comparatively little known, was born A.D. 1588, at Giggleswick, in Yorkshire, of which his father was vicar; and whose privilege it was to see all his sons, five in number, effective ministers of the Church of England. Of these not the least eminent was the subject of the present memoir, who was a member of Trinity College, Cambridge: he became rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, in London, A.D. 1611, and subsequently archdeacon of Colchester. The living of St. Mary's he would never relinquish for any other of higher value, though frequently placed within his reach; he felt he could not conscientiously do so. According to his own statement, in a pamphlet which he published in the year of his death, styled “An elegiacal Commemoration," it is expressly stated that he was, on several occasions, offered higher preferment; but that he was "unwilling, when he had brought the souls of his neighbours part of the way to heaven, to leave them to a new convoy." His talents were unquestionable. His church was attended by persons of the greatest eminence. He preached twice on a Sunday, and lectured every Wednesday. It is somewhat difficult to conceive any different sense that is implied between lecturing and preaching at the present day. The sermon and the lecture are, though not always in the same strain of doctrine, precisely on the same model of composition; and it is to

be questioned, whether the lecturer is not called upon to make his discourses more of an expository and cate

chetical character than they usually assume. There

can be little doubt that the most beneficial effects would result from the adoption of such a course, which, to a certain extent, combines catechetical with what may be termed pulpit instruction.

The most unquestionable testimonies are on record as to the efficiency of Mr. Shute's ministrations. His church was well attended, as has been observed, on the Sunday; and especially so on the week-day by his brother clergymen. His preaching was uncom

promising. He faithfully rebuked vice, even in the highest quarters; and he was ever mindful that, though a portion of his congregation consisted of the great, the wealthy, and the learned, yet that the poor among the flock were not to be forgotten. Almost every clergyman has found the extreme difficulty of suiting his discourses to the relative position of the several members of his congregation. To be enabled so to address the learned, as not to rise above the comprehension of the unlearned, and to address the poor man in a strain sufficiently plain not to descend to too great familiarity of expression,-is a most valuable talent, which Mr. Shute would appear to have possessed in the highest degree. A volume of his sermons, all preached A.D. 1641-42, was published by Mr. Sparke, rector of St. Martin's, Ironmonger Lane. "In his character were united," says Granger, every qualification of an excellent divine. His learning in divinity and ecclesiastical history was extensive, indeed almost universal. His talent as an orator was perhaps unrivalled. He instantly caught, and immovably fixed, the attention. His life was a uniform example of unaffected piety. He was frequently styled the English Chrysostom, and was particularly conversant in the writings of that father. He first began to be neglected in the civil wars. His primitive virtues could not overbalance the prejudice conceived by some against his learning, which was not apostolical."

The times in which Mr. Shute was called to exercise his ministry were indeed peculiarly trying; and though strongly attached to the Church, and at the same time tolerant to those who dissented from its discipline, both parties seemed to oppose him. It was difficult to be a moderate man under the then existing state of the nation: such Mr. Shute wasmoderate in its true, legitimate sense; and to this circumstance may it be ascribed, that he was overlooked by those in power, and opposed by those who were plotting the overthrow of the Establishment. If there were then troublesome times for the Church of England, the times are little less troublesome now: a strong phalanx is arrayed against her. While her ministers act mildly, they must act firmly. Disagreeing, as they do, among themselves, on points far from unimportant, they must still bear in mind, that they have a solemn duty to perform; that union is strength; and that the very existence of the Establishment may, under God, depend on the circumstance, that there be no divisions among them. The spirit of Mr. Shute is precisely that which is the most likely to act the most effectually for the preservation of our Zion. If the enemies of the Church-men of every religious and non-religious complexion-meet for its overthrow, why should not all its ministers and members take council for its preservation?

Mr. Shute was a diligent student. In disposition he was frank, open, and generous. Large sums were confided in trust to his care for the relief of the needy; and to these he added as much as his own circumstances would allow. His attention in this respect was especially directed to the needy among the clergy." Reader, I do say, and will maintain, he "A Biographical History of England," &c. By the Rev. J. Granger, Vicar of Shiplake, Oxfordshire. Second ed., 1775.

was the most precious jewel that was ever shewn or seen in Lombard Street," is the only remark attached to his name in Zouch's Sketches of Yorkshire Biography. But, if brief, it is abundantly comprehensive; little more could have been added.

When Mr. Shute had been incumbent of St. Mary's thirty-three years, he began to decline in health. He fell into a swoon one day on leaving the pulpit, and from that time gradually sank, He retired to the country, about four miles distant, where he was often visited by his parishioners, between whom and himself the most perfect harmony had always existed, during the whole of his long incumbency. On the day of his death, in 1643, he prayed most earnestly for the Church and nation. He foresaw, probably, what would be the result of the unhappy position of matters, religious as well as civil; and in God's good providence he was saved from witnessing the tumults and enormities of the civil war. Soon after this prayer his spirit departed. His mortal remains were buried in St. Mary Woolnoth, a vast concourse of people attending his funeral, among whom were many nobility, and a vast number of the clergy. It was his dying request, that his funeral sermon might be preached by Dr. Holdsworth, rector of St. Peter-le-Poor. This, however, was not acceded to; and a more popular man, Mr. Ephraim Udall, rector of St. Austin's, was selected for the purpose. What must have been the state of party-feeling, when such a gross outrage was committed against a faithful minister's dying request! Popularity is a sandy foundation on which a minister is to rest his hopes of usefulness. This very divine afterwards became as much opposed as he was now applauded, and by the same individuals. The minister is to recollect whose ambassador he is, whom he is sworn to serve, whose message is committed to his trust; and if he is a faithful ambassador, a zealous servant, who delivers his message without fear or favour, he will not heed the reproaches, or be flattered by the applause, of those to whom he is set forth to preach, in all their fulness, the saving truths of the Gospel.

0.

GAMBLING, AND ITS CONCOMITANT EVILS.

No. II.-The Cockpit.

IT is one of the most melancholy and humiliating descriptions of the heathen world, in which it is affirmed that the dark places of the carth are full of the habitations of cruelty. Cruelty, in fact, is a powerful evidence of the natural alienation of man's heart from God-implacable, unmerciful, is the description of his character in his natural state. Mercy is one of the most delightful traits of the renewed soul-that mercy which extends itself to the very lowest in the scale of animal creation; the wisdom that is from above is "gentle." And yet how sad is the reflection, that cruelty is not confined to the regions of paganism; that it presents itself, to a degrading extent, in our own nominally Christian land; and that amusements, if they may be so called, are engaged in with avidity, which would disgrace the Hottentot, and from which the savage would turn away with disgust! Among such amusements, that of cock-fighting may be ranked as one of the most outrageous; for of all others, perhaps it is the most calculated to brutalise the mind, and to • "Works of the Rev. Thomas Zouch, D.D., F.L.S.," &c. By Archd. Wrangham, 2 vols. 1820.

render it impervious to the entrance of any thing approaching to right feeling: it may be ranked under the same head as bull-baiting and dog-fighting, although the artificial means adopted to add to the cruelty of the misnamed sport, seems, if possible, to aggravate its heinousness. Two birds are pitted one against the other: the utmost care is taken as to their being of pure and proper breed; they are fed on scientific principles, by persons whose whole occupation it is; and immense sums are lavished in endeavouring to rear such birds as will prove victorious. Fortunes are often staked on the result of a main. Steel spurs are fixed on, to increase, if possible, the excruciating agonies of two miserable animals; and to witness their torments, hundreds of persons will assemble with delight. Such sport, as it is termed, meets with exalted patronage; and men of high blood and noble connexions, and even of education, will assemble with the very refuse and scum of society. The shouts of triumph, or the yells of despair, which mark the winners and the losers, can only be surpassed by that which shall proceed from the blackness of darkness for ever.

Is this language too strong? Assuredly it will not appear to be so to any one who has attended a cockpit. The wretched individual who can delight in witnessing the dying agonies of a helpless bird-lacerated, bleeding, expiring is a disgrace to human nature, whatever be the sphere in which he moves.

And yet how often is the cockpit the accompaniment of the race-course! how frequently do the pollutions of the one go hand in hand with the barbarity of the other! It is not affirmed that all who attend the racecourse would enter the precincts of the cockpit; or that a certain refinement of feeling would not dissuade many from joining in the one amusement, who see no harm in the other: but it is a truly degrading, and humiliating, and soul-rending spectacle, to perceive that the cockpit has its charms for many of whom better things might be expected, and who exchange, perhaps for the frivolous gaiety of the ball-room and the almost childish prattle which there prevails, the brutal society of the lowest, and the impious blasphemies that ring around the cockpit's walls. Alas! as I have walked along the streets of a well-known city in the sporting world, I have been sickened with the clamorous shouts proceeding from the den of cruelty, and been shocked to witness the feverish, haggard look of many a ruined spendthrift, who might have been an ornament to society, and a blessing to his neighbourhood. Alas! the love of gambling seemed entirely to have brutalised the heart. We have heard of two men, of immense wealth and high family, endeavouring to kill time on a wet Sunday afternoon at an inn, betting their thousands on which of two drops of rain, on a pane of glass, would soonest reach the bottom; and the story could only excite feelings of intense pity: but far different emotions are called forth when cruelty is exercised, and the man born in a Christian land testifies that, in point of fact, as far as the feelings of his heart are concerned, he is not removed from the savage.

Perhaps one of the most affecting events connected with gambling, which has come within my notice, was that of an elegant and highly accomplished girl, who was wedded to a man utterly brutalised by cock-fighting. She was sacrificed to gratify the vanity of her parents; for he was a man of property and rank-and verily they had their reward. He had concealed from her-though the infatuated parents knew it too wellhis fondness for low company, and his delight in cruel sports. For a season after marriage all was smooth; he treated her with apparent affection; but it was only for a time. He left her refined society for that of his former companions; he grew tired of the atmosphere of the drawing room, where his wife sought by every endeavour to remove his apparent ennui-that of the

cock-pit was more congenial to his feelings. She had never loved him: her affections were devoted to the brave and honourable son of a poor but highly respected family. After the birth of a still-born child, she died of a broken heart. It is just possible, that some one acquainted with the incident may direct his eye to these pages, and can point out the spot where the baby was laid upon her quiet breast in the chancel of the church of

All who are acquainted with the poems of Cowper cannot have forgotten "the Cock-Fighter's Garland," written on reading the following obituary of the Gentlemen's Magazine for April 1789: "At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq.-a young man of large fortune, and in the splendour of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where it may be said he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but if he had his foibles, he had his merits also that far outweighed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting; and had a favourite cock, upon which he had made many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit, and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen, who were present, attempted to interfere; which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious violence declared that he would kill the first man who interposed; but in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot." Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of this unfortunate man,

Now, the object of inserting this most humiliating record (the tone of the record itself cannot be admired) of human depravity, is not to testify the avenging hand of an offended God. It is always extremely difficult to assign positively any occurrence of a similar kind to a direct interposition of divine Providence. Men may differ as to their views on this point; but assuredly no man can fail to trace in this wretched man's conduct the brutalising character of the sports in which he delighted. It is not to record his name; but it is, to act as a solemn warning to all, to check the first risings of a gambling spirit; for, be it observed, the game-cock had lost the battle, the owner was also a loser, and, in the moment of rage, he was summoned to the tribunal of his God.*

It is gratifying to know that, by the unremitting exertions of the admirable Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, established in 1824, much has been done to remove the nuisance of the cockpit. From one of its reports now lying before me, and from the newspapers of the week, I perceive that its labours have been successfully called into exercise. The conduct of many of the persons there referred to, engaged in the nefarious practice, fully warrants the strong language which I have felt it necessary to adopt. By the act of parliament 5 and 6 Will. IV. c. 59, passed September 9, 1835, sect. 3: "Any person keeping or using any house, room, pit, ground, or other place for running, baiting, or fighting any bull, bear, badger, dog, or other animal (whether of a domestic or wild nature or kind), or for cock-fighting, shall be liable to a penalty of 51. for every day he shall so keep and use the same."

Let the reader trace the cock-feeder or cock-fighter through the labyrinth of his guilty career. Has he ever heard the blasphemous language employed, the recklessness to all moral principle manifested, the derision of all that common humanity could suggest? Has he ever seen the man of high rank by birth and

We would recommend to our readers' notice, "The Wrongs of the Animal World; to which is subjoined, the Speech of Lord Erskine on the same subject." By David Mushet, Esq. London: Hatchards, Hamilton, 1839.

fortune disgracing his lineage by close intimate intercourse with the very dregs of the people? Did he ever stand by the death-bed of a cock-fighter, a bullbaiter, or of any one addicted to such horrid sports? if he ever did, he will fully coincide with the above remarks; and unless himself a victim to their brutalising influence, use every method in his power to prevent indulgence in practices which, while they injure the property, inflict tortures on animals, and inevitably ruin the soul for ever.

The above remarks are made, however, not so much with reference to the crime of cruelty to animals, as to the demoralising effects of a love of gambling-a love which deteriorates every good principle, too often overturns all sense of right and wrong, and renders its wretched votary an object of intense wonder and commiseration to others, and of unspeakable wretchedness to himself.

I would close this paper with an extract from the Christian Beacon, No. V. "Whatever may be the opinions of religious men on racing, and the attendant vices and iniquities of races, there is one practice which accompanies the Chester races, which we have good reason to know that many of the approvers of racing heartily disapprove, we speak of cock-fighting. We condemn it openly; for we detest it manfully. We would not be so silly, or so senseless, as to forget that Christianity is not a religion of acts, but of principles.' But there is no casuistry on which either the act or the principle of the cockfighter can be excused. It is a disgrace to our venerable city, an insult to our common manliness. And we call upon the good citizens of Chester to rise up and get rid of a practice which is now contrary to the law of the land, and is spoken of in the language of

that law, (see act on cruel treatment to animals, 5 and 6 Will. IV., 1835,) as a great nuisance and annoyance to the neighbourhood in which it takes place, and as leading to demoralise those who frequent such places. We make this appeal as from an established clergyman of the Church of England; and as a teacher of common morality, we enter our protest most solemnly against it."

SUNDAY REFLECTIONS.—No. XV.

BY MRS. RILEY.

Ask now of the days that are past.-Deut. iv. 32. HOPE and fear, anticipation and memory-emotions which so materially regulate the actions of our present state of being,-have not a less powerful influence upon the ulterior purpose of our existence, and are appealed to for this end by Him who implanted these emotions in the mind. We are told to "rejoice in hope of the glory of God;" and yet to "fear," lest we should seem by negligence to come short of that promised rest which remaineth to the people of God. By anticipation, we are taught to conceive the reality of a happiness which "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard;" and by memory to recall the proofs of God's faithfulness and truth in past ages, and to glean from thence consolation for the present, and encouragement for the future.

So it was, by the hope of God's promises, the fear of his threatenings, the anticipation of his future benefits, and the remembrance of his past deliverances, that in various parts of the beautiful chapter where

This work is edited by the Rev. C. B. Tayler, M.A., Rector of St. Peter's, Chester; and its design is, " to meet, with God's help, the profane and daring impiety of the INFIDELS of the present times."

this passage occurs, Moses warned his people to continue stedfast in their allegiance to God. "Ask now of the days that are past since the day that God created man upon the earth, and ask from the one side of heaven to the other, whether there hath been any such thing as this great thing is, or hath been heard like it. Did ever people hear the voice of God speaking to them out of the midst of the fire, as thou hast heard, and live?" "Unto thee it was shewed, that thou mightest know that the Lord he is God; there is none else beside him."

How materially have the records of "the days that are past" been multiplied since Moses appealed to them! The people whom he forewarned in vain are now "scattered amongst the nations," and "left few among the heathen." God's threatenings have been executed in punishment,-his promises are yet left to be fulfilled in mercy; and to Israel this encouragement remains, "When thou art in tribulation, and all these things are come upon thee, even in the latter days, if thou turn to the Lord thy God, and shalt be obedient to his voice, (for the Lord thy God is a merthee, nor forget the covenant of thy fathers, which he ciful God,) he will not forsake thee, neither destroy

sware unto them."

The days that are now past testify to us, yet more forcibly, of God's hatred to sin, and compassion to sinners: we can behold his first promise of mercy, unforgotten through intervening centuries, and fully accomplished upon Mount Calvary, when "God spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all." We are more highly favoured than were God's chosen people: they heard "out of heaven" God's voice of terror, while he shewed them upon earth "his great fire" but we have heard out of heaven the proclamation of "peace and good-will;" and earth has beheld the meek and lowly Saviour going about "doing good."

Besides the words of inspiration, there is in every breast a record to which we may appeal; and turning to those days of our existence which are now past, glean from our own experience both warning and encouragement.

In its earlier years, life generally glides on so smoothly, that one day testifies to another only of mercy and happiness. The birth-day, or new-year's day, those "eminences" from which, in after-life, we may have to look back upon the past with mournful recollection, or forward into the future with trembling anticipation are then only marks for greater joyfulness or hilarity; for in childhood" the year is comparatively unmarked by memory, and all its days are given to hope." But let one stage of the journey of life be accomplished, and when standing on the threshold of manhood, "let the young ask now of the days that are past," and what do they trace there? Mercy, which has upheld them amidst the dangers of infancy and childhood; and power, which has strengthened every feeble limb and opening faculty, till, increased in "wisdom and stature," they are ready to commence a career of useful exertion. But memory will also recall with gratitude the parental love which supplied every want, and ministered to every capacity for happiness will not its voice call upon the heart to repay, to its utmost ability, this debt of obligation?

:

And if fraternal love has added to the enjoyments of youth, will not the breast of manhood strive to strengthen the bonds of brotherly affection by every present kindness and future assistance?

Let a few more years elapse, and pausing on the meridian of life, let us "ask now of the years that are past." Perhaps success has been permitted to attend exertion, and the sun of prosperity been unclouded. Have the good resolutions with which we entered upon active life stood firm in the hour of trial? or has the God, to whom we were dedicated in infancy, been forgotten amidst the bustle of the world? If so, let the warning voice of conscience be heard: as mercies increase, let not the heart absorb them too readily, lest, gorged by earthly comforts, it have no room left for the promises of eternity. If new ties have been added to those domestic affections which bind up the felicity of earth, let the home of happiness be also a house of prayer, where daily offerings are laid upon the family altar; and high and low, rich and poor, meet together before Him who is "no respecter of persons." If we have freely received of God's bounty, let us freely give to those that be in need; let our professions be sanctified by gratitude and devotedness to Him from whom they come; for the surest way to prevent their injuring us is, to maintain a deep conviction of the unworthiness of the recipient, and of their transitory nature.

When next we gaze back upon " the days that are past," the bright scene may have faded; sickness or sorrow may have brooded over the home, and left its shadow on the heart. Still we may listen to the voice of the past, and gain instruction. If we have been dwelling in the chamber of sickness, have we brought from thence a truer estimate of existence; have we at length discovered that the things which are seen are temporal; and have our hopes found a resting-place on those things which are eternal? As earthly happiness seemed to melt away in our grasp, could we lay hold upon the assurance of heavenly joy? If we have been permitted to feel," it is good for me that I have been afflicted," let not the conviction pass away with convalescence, but bring forth the fruits of a holy and religious life. When sorrow has been our portion, and those we loved are taken from us, let us remember that a broken heart is God's accepted sacrifice; and he can replace the withered flowers that once twined around our tabernacle with that unfading peace which is their only substitute. He who "telleth the stars," does not refuse to "bind up the broken heart," and "comfort those that mourn;" and in his own good time will give "the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness."

And now let us ask of the aged Christian of " the days that are past." He will tell us that threescore years and ten appear at their close but as a dream when one awaketh. Hopes that once agitated his heart have faded; fears that oppressed him are now dissipated. The Lord, who has guided him from his youth up, will not now forsake him; and if his remaining days should be "few and evil," he knows that they will carry him to the borders of an inheritance that is undefiled and fadeth not by time. The days which are past may have been chequered by vicissitude; but the cares of a troubled life are now remem

bered, as throwing into stronger relief the unclouded brightness of that which is to come. The home of his youth may have passed into other hands, the happy dwelling of his manhood be in the possession of strangers; but in his Father's house are "many mansions ;" and he feels that he shall there rejoin those whom he has loved, those "who are not lost, but gone before." While he awaits with patience the termination of days wherein he feels "I have no pleasure in them," he looks forward to entering that presence where there is "fulness of joy" and "pleasures for evermore."

There will be a moment when fear is forgotten, hope fulfilled, and anticipation absorbed in complete enjoyment; but even then will not memory remain to us ?* Shall we not, from the gate of the celestial city, be able to review the various windings of our pilgrimage, while every event of our lives will excite fresh gratitude to God, by evincing his wisdom and his love? What once seemed dark and bewildering will then shine forth as the designs of mercy; chastisements which were believed by faith to be tokens of God's love will then be seen as such; and the trials which pressed heavily upon the burdened spirit will be found to have whispered, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

"The days that are past" will then have fulfilled their office; the fight is fought, the victory is won; all that remains is to hear that cheering sentence, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

all the situations of life to which this consolation is and valuable than when it supports us under the applicable, there is none in which it is more efficient shock of seeing those we love torn from us by the remorseless hand of death. "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," is the universal doom. All must yield to it. Day by day death claims his piness; snatches them from the arms of friendship. victims; strikes them in the bosom of domestic hapMany a widowed mother has followed the remains of an only son. Many an affectionate heart has felt the cruel pangs of separation from a darling child, from a fond and protecting parent, from a faithful partner, from a dear and valued friend.

Many

a one sees those he loves consigned to the earth, and bitterly exclaims, as David did, "Would God I had died for thee !" But wishes such as these avail nothing. Let the afflicted mourner rather turn to his Bible: he will find consolation in the advice of St. Paul-" that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope; for if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him" (1 Thess. iv. 13, 14).

It is a controverted point, whether memory will remain to the disembodied spirit; but since writing the above, I have met with this extract from the Rev. H. Blunt's work on Elisha, which is so similar in sentiment and expression to my own, that I venture to re-quote it here: "When we look down upon the road, as seen from the habitations of the heavenly city, and trace it from the far-distant country from which we came, and observe all its trackless windings, and its now unintelligible turnings, we shall clearly perceive that none other could have carried us to the many mansions of our Father's house."