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been a prisoner of war for thirteen years, and possessing all that could endear him to hearts like his own renewed by divine grace, was early summoned to the better world. Crossing the Atlantic in a vessel which he commanded, a portion of the rigging aloft gave way during a terrific hurricane. His crew and mate refused to attempt the hazardous task of repairing it. With characteristic courage he sprang aloft and repaired the damage; but ere he could descend or make sure his hold a heavy sea struck the vessel, threw him from the mast, and he perished.

About this time Mr. Graham entered into business on his own account, soon after which he married, and, as years revolved, became the father of a numerous family, all of whom, except one who died in infancy, with his widowed partner survive him.

Always diffident, and extremely guarded in speaking of himself, his religious attainments were to be estimated by his temper, disposition, habits and pursuits rather than the expressions of his lips. Happily, the former were of a character that demonstrated that he was habitually under the influence and control of religious principle.

The first sphere of usefulness he entered was the Sabbath-school, where for many years he found employment congenial to his tastes, till he was persuaded that there was greater need for his services in another department of usefulness, the visitation of the sick and dying. But he retained through life a strong partiality for children, which he manifested by sympathizing with them in their little sorrows, and endeavouring, as occasion offered, to impress their minds with Scripture truths. He had the happy art of securing their attention, ingratiating himself into their favour, and winning their confidence. His mode of communicating religious instruction so interested them, that his "Bible stories" and "pretty anecdotes" were sure to be called for by the juveniles in those families into which either his own business or that of the Church led him. The distress of children strongly excited him. However employed, if the cry of a child in the street caught his ear, he rushed out of the shop to ascertain the cause and apply a suitable remedy. If a bigger lad were beating a less, he was seized by the collar, well shaken, told he was a cowardly fellow," and, when he had promised amendment, sent off with a suitable admonition. Then the sufferer was conducted into the shop, and if found to have given occasion for offence, received a gentle reprimand; and when the coast was clear for a safe retreat, he was dismissed.

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His active habits in the general business of the Church were conspicuous from an early period. The strength of his memory, the soundness of his judgment, and the equanimity of his temper, made him a valuable member of Church-meetings. Nothing of interest and importance connected with the Church was ever forgotten by him; an evidence how devoted were heart and mind to Zion's weal. Not easily provoked, his temper was scarcely ever ruffled in business meetings. He lived in As

strict adherence to the principle of never giving or taking offence. much as in him lay, he lived in peace with all men. If, as was sometimes the case, men would take offence because he had the temerity to differ in opinion from them, he used, as he phrased it, to "go on the even tenor of his way." There was no perceptible alteration in his mode of treating them; and it was curious and edifying to see how the stiffened shoulder would gradually relax, and the averted eye return its wonted kindly glance, after his hearty salute," Well, brother, how do

you do?" had been repeated, as it invariably was, till returned with recovered freedom, feeling and friendliness. This deportment was not the result of stoicism or indifference; for Mr. Graham was extremely sensitive; but was the triumph of Christian principle and divine grace in a disposition naturally amiable. "I cannot," he would say, when some expressed surprise that he so uniformly suppressed every manifestation of resentment,"act otherwise, when duty is so clearly revealed in the Word of God."

As Society and Trustees' Steward, Mr. Graham had for many years been remarkably attentive and useful, but had declined taking a more spiritual office in the Church till death made vacancies which no other person so well qualified could be found to fill. During the last ten years he sustained the office of class-leader, the gifts of which he did not suspect himself to possess, so as to secure the esteem and affection of his members. The duty of visiting them in their sickness and other troubles, which thus devolved on him, opened a new sphere of usefulness in which he took great delight. He spent at least the whole of the intervals of public worship on the Sabbath, and frequently his week-day evenings, in these "works of faith and labours of love." Having been disciplined in the school of adversity and affliction-possessing a soul alive to every emotion the scenes of the sick-room were fitted to awaken-sympathetic, kind, gentle, cheerful, he was ever a welcome visitor; his counsels and prayers being highly prized and eminently beneficial. The Society and congregation, as well as the members of his own class, shared in his attentions as circumstances required; while among the members of other. communities, where business led him, they were sought and enjoyed, in some cases for months; the attention of no other spiritual adviser being deemed necessary.

It was in offices of kindness and Christian charity that Mr. Graham excelled. He could seldom be prevailed on to undertake any public exercise. The subject of extreme diffidence and excessive nervous timidity, he had a severe and protracted struggle before he obtained that amount of self-possession which enabled him in his latter years to pray in public, with even a moderate degree of comfort to himself. When his eldest son, John, was brought into the Church and began to exercise in public, a happy expedient occurred to the mind of Mr. Graham, by which he was frequently enabled to escape passing through a painful ordeal. The minister conducting the Sabbath-evening prayer-meeting, looking at Mr. Graham, would say, "Brother Graham will engage in prayer." A significant look and gesture, perfectly understood by his son, transferred the duty from sire to son, very much to the satisfaction of the former, though not of the latter, who inherited the constitutional nervousness of his father. Speaking in a love-feast was a severe task to him. He would rise suddenly, trembling from head to foot, his eyes closed, grasp the front of the pew, briefly and hurriedly relate his experience, and drop on his seat as if exhausted by the effort.

Singularly contrasting with this excessive timidity in public was the perfect self-possession he manifested in private. He was at ease among men of every grade of society. There was no indication in him of conscious inferiority in the presence of men of wealth, station, or cultivated intellect. Unabashed he took part in the conversation, which a wellstored mind and ready utterance enabled him to do respectably.

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almost inexhaustible fund of anecdote, a ready wit, a dry quiet humour, an exuberant good nature and a sprightly cheerfulness, made him an agreeable and interesting companion. Being asked how he succeeded in keeping himself so much at ease in the society of men occupying a position so much above his own, he replied that he never had to make any effort, for he had never but once felt abashed in the presence of a man, and that was Edmund Kean the celebrated tragedian.

Patience, fortitude and courage were remarkably developed in the character of Mr. Graham, and these graces were severely tried through life. He commenced business with promising prospects of success, having early manifested those qualities of mind and heart which made him beloved by many, and admired by all with whom he came frequently in contact. He seemed secure of steady support in his business; but unforeseen fluctuations and disasters, accidents and sicknesses, with their attendant and consequent infirmities, crippling his energies, and the increasing claims of a numerous family, plunged him into difficulties which probably were increased by a perhaps blameable indifference to that which most men most prize, worldly prosperity; for in the rivalry for fame, fortune or favour he was never seen. When a child, his thighbone was broken; when a young man, one of his legs was broken by leaping off a sand-bank, and, some years after, the other was broken by his bootheel slipping off a paving-stone in the frost. Three times his arm was laid open to the bone, which operations were necessary for the removal of a disease occasioned by a slight blow on the elbow. He was afflicted frequently with fevers and inflammations, and during his latter years was seldom free from some ailment. When suffering these visitations and their consequent embarrasments, his patience, fortitude and courage never failed him. "All things," he would say, "work together for good to them that love God." "What thou knowest not now thou shalt know hereafter.'

Though painful at present, 'twill cease before long,
And then, oh, how pleasant the conqueror's song!

And, sustained by the unfailing consolations of his Christian faith, his submission to the divine will was meek, uncomplaining and cheerful. The secret of his perfect submission to God was this: seasons of suffering were especially seasons of prayer, when all was placed in the hands of infinite power, wisdom and mercy.

The antipathies and the attachments of Mr. Graham were strong. Any attempt on the part of one to invade the rights or privileges of another, the slightest manifestation of despotism, oppression or cruelty, grated harshly on his kindly nature, and, if occasion presented itself, was fearlessly denounced and indignantly rebuked. His patience was sorely tried in the presence of those addicted to croaking and faultfinding. Their connexion with the Church, he often stated, he regarded as wholly mischievous, as they seemed to live for no other purpose that he could divine than to paralyze the energies and obstruct the usefulness of the zealous and enterprizing. Evil-speaking and talebearing he abhorred. "From these sins,' says his oldest and most intimate friend, Mr. Tate, "he was wholly free." If at times compelled to hear a reproach against his neighbour, he never assisted in its circulation by becoming the medium of transmitting it to others.

Believing the principles which the Church polity of the Methodist

New Connexion embodies and applies were scriptural, he held them tenaciously, and advocated them warmly. His attachment to our Connexion was enlightened, discriminating and unwavering. At the same time, free from bigotry, he lived on the happiest terms with the members of other Christian communities, rejoiced in the peace and prosperity of every section of the universal Church, and mourned over their divisions and declensions.

His love for the Society with which he was connected was evinced by tireless endeavours to advance its interests. Always regular in his attendance on the means of grace, he marked absentees, visited and stirred them up; while many were induced by his solicitations to attend Salem who had been entirely neglecting public worship. When special services were to be held, wherever business led him, he invited the parties he came in contact with to attend them, and was always successful with many, and often with those who had never crossed the threshold of a Methodist chapel. "Did you see Mr. ?" he would say to some of his old friends, "he was never in a dissenting chapel before. I imagine he never heard such a sermon as that! He will have a different opinion of our ministers now. They only want to be known, sir!" It was manifest that the interests of the Church occupied a much larger share of his solicitude than his own personal interests, and that he did what he could to promote them.

In the domestic circle he was uniformly thoughtful, affectionate and gentle. Devotedly attached to every member of his family, all shared alike in his attention and solicitude. His mode of communicating religious instruction was attractive and impressive. He read the Scriptures with a peculiar and striking emphasis, and prayed in the family with remarkable earnestness, unction and appropriateness. He ruled his own household with a very gentle hand. His reproofs were proportioned to the offence committed, sometimes sarcastic and cutting, generally mild, always felt, and rarely ineffectual. A blow from him was a rare phenomenon, and evidently occasioned him more pain than the party who suffered it. If he erred, it was on the side of kindness and forbearance. Given to hospitality, he received his friends with a sincere and hearty welcome; and wherever he accepted an invitation made himself quite at home. Admonished at times that it would probably be more in harmony with the wishes of some parties if he declined their invitations than if he accepted them, his reply was, "Perhaps so; but I am resolved that when I am invited, if it suit my convenience and inclination, I will accept the invitation. If they are sincere I shall gratify them if they are not I shall gratify myself; and punish their hypocrisy." And his keen sense and exquisite relish for the ludicrous, combined with his contempt for insincerity and penuriousness, enabled him to enjoy the carrying out of this resolution in those few instances where he suspected it was a becoming corrective.

During the winter of last year he began to be troubled with severe pain in his ankle. His medical adviser was shortly after called in and various remedies applied, all of which afforded but slight temporary relief. The pain he suffered was excruciating. Writing to his son in the early part of this year, he said, "Last night I had two hours' ease before I went to bed, and a good night's rest after; which is more than I have had for four months. It has been trying work to attend to busi

ness. Saturday I feel very heavy, and it unfits me for the services of Sunday. I have lost four Sunday mornings and two whole Sundays, which to me is a great sacrifice; but I hope this will not last long."

It soon became evident to his family and friends that severe pain and the want of rest were rapidly undermining and breaking down his constitution. The members of his class observed a peculiar richness in his experience; while at the last love-feast he attended his constitutional aversion to speak of himself seemed to have quite forsaken him, and his language indicated a consciousness of justification by faith, an assured hope of heaven and a fixed resolution to persevere to the end. The last times he was able to attend public service were on the 22nd of June, when his son preached the anniversary sermons of the Sabbath-school, and on the evening of the following Sabbath, that he might be present at the renewal of tickets in his class. He sat during the last public service in his old place in the singers' pew, suffering severe pain. What were his feelings on that occasion may be judged from what he stated afterwards: I twice tried to turn round and look on old faces, but it was too much for me, my feelings would not bear it."

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Compelled by a stern, unyielding necessity, and sustained by a heaveninspired fortitude and courage, he continued, without a murmur or complaint, to drag his sinking, wasting body a weary, painful round of employment for a few days longer, when, nature worn out, he sunk on the bed of death. Just a fortnight previous to the day on which he died a physician was called in. His ominous words were, "I shall give Mr. Graham some powerful medicine; if that fail, the only hope of saving his life will be to amputate the limb, and he is so greatly reduced that I fear that operation will not save him." He continued to sink, spoke seldom and at times incoherently. Yet when roused, his quiet humour, innocent pleasantry and cheerful serenity of soul would break out, like gleams of sunshine in the dark and cloudy day, welcome to the sad hearts of his family and friends where hope and despair trembled in the balances. Urged one day to rise and have his bed made, in making the attempt which, owing to weakness and pain, was very distressing, he looked smilingly on his friend, Mr. Tate, who was in the room, and said, "Non-resistance and passive obedience."

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Mr. Tate, whose unremitting attention to his dying friend has imposed a large debt of gratitude on the bereaved, writing to Mr. Graham's son during the last days of agonizing suspense said, "Believe me, your dear father is a pattern of patience and meek submission to the divine will. Never a sigh nor a pitiful look. A countenance the picture of content. When asked by the doctor, How are you?" Mercifully dealt with, doctor,' is the reply. There is no symptom of uneasy feelings. He is cheerful, easy, happy midst all that can annoy and distress.” The Rev. W. Hughes says, Soon after my arrival at North Shields, I embraced an opportunity of calling upon our late departed brother Graham, having been informed of his indisposition. I found him, though attending to his worldly business, suffering greatly from a diseased leg. He gave me to understand that he had no fears in reference to futurity, and that religion afforded him never-failing consolation. I, in common with his friends, fondly indulged the hope that he would shortly be restored to health, and that I should have frequent opportunities of conversing with him on subjects in which he felt most deeply

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