some dependence; but those hopes and that dependence are now buried with her in the grave. He may now with more propriety, and he hopes with a better spirit, say as Jacob said, I will go down into the grave unto my daughter, mourning. He may be allowed to mourn but not to murmur. He knows it becomes him to hold hi* peace, and not open his mouth, because the Lord has done it. But you will permit mc to make the same request that Job made on a similar occasion : ' Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends ; for the hand of God hath touched me.' "

" Never shall we forget," writes one of his parishioners, " the manner in which he uttered those last words. Our youthful eyes beheld him, then in the seventy-eighth year of his age, and in the fiftieth of his ministry, imploring tho prayers of his people that he might not sink, while the waves of affliction dashed over him. His eyes ran down with tears; his people wept around him ; his swelling grief choked his feeble utterance in almost every sentence, till he was obliged to terminate his discourse. He closed his sermon book, withdrew his spectacles, wiped off the falling tears, and then, lifting his suffused eyes toward heaven, he said, ' Let us find relief in prayer.' God strengthened him, and enabled him to lead our devotions with unusual terror. He prayed for himself, his wife and children, his church and people, like a man who stood on the confines of eternity, like one who stood between the living and the dead. Never before nor since have we seen a Christian assembly so perfectly dissolved in tears. Some wept at the remembrance of those whom God had taken away from him; more by reason of their sympathy with his sorrows, and at the painful apprehension that they would soon hear his voice no more; and others because their hard, impenitent hearts were not prepared to offer to God acceptable prayer for their afflicted and beloved pastor. Prayer being ended, a hymn sung, and the benediction pronounced, we retired, wiser and better for tho soul-stirring scene." — (American Quarterly Register, Vol. 15, pp. 118,119.)

It was evident, through all the sufferings attending this bereavement, that the stricken patriarch had been schooling himself for his hours of sorrow. His favorite remark had been : " Affliction is the good man's shining time." One of his daughters, visiting him in his solitude, inquired : " Do you not feel anxious about your domestic arrangements, now that all your children, on whom you had specially depended, are in their graves ? " His characteristic reply was: " Not in the least." He remembered his text: " And Aaron held his peace."

But a new sorrow awaited him. He had lived with his estimable wife about half a century. For twenty years she had been an invalid, suffering the severest pains from her broken limb. A faithful nurse who had attended her for seven years, remarked: " I have often heard her groan, but I never heard her complain." It was becoming obvious to Mrs. Emmons, that her consumptive habit and the consequences of her fractured limb, would soon release her from the earth. With her usual deliberation she made all the needful arrangements for the closing scene. She prepared her shroud. On Saturday eve, when her Sabbath began, she called her nurse to her bedside, and informed her that she should not probably continue until the morning, desired her to bring the shroud which she had wrapped up by itself in a safe place, also to bring down the board on which the corpse of her son and her daughters had been laid, and which she hud kept in a safe place (just so sacred was her care) — and to let her lifeless body rest on the same support which had upheld the remains of her children. She also requested that a man might bo called to spend the night in the house, as there was only a small boy who could wait upon them, and he might be afraid to move about in the dark tenement where a corpse was lying. She further expressed her wish that Mr. Emmons might not be disturbed during the hours of sleep, as he would feel less burdened if he were to come into her room on the Sabbath morning, and find the long agony over, than to come at night and witness the pains which he could not relieve. Four days after this dark night, the old patriarch, in his eighty-fifth year, wrote the following letter to his wife's brother, John Hopkins, Esq., of Northampton, Mass.:

"frasklix, Aug. 6,1829. " Dear Brother: Tho last Sabbath, about four o'clock in tho morning, Mrs. Emmons exchanged that day of rest, I hope and believe, for ' that rest which rcmaincth to the people of God.' Your loss is great, but mine is irreparable. I am emphatically a pilgrim and stranger on the earth, having neither father nor mother, nor brother nor sister, nor uncle nor aunt living. I am left alone to bear tho heaviest affliction I have ever been called to bear, in an evil time. Though I enjoy usual health, yet tho decays of nature and the infirmities of old age render me less able to bear troubles and sorrows than I was in former days, when I was called to suffer breach after breach in my family; therefore this lost and widest breach seems destined to bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to my grave. I sympathize with you, and I know you will sympathize with me. You knew the excellent character of your sister, but I knew more of her excellence, worth, and importance to me. She was indeed a rich blessing to me, and to her family, and to her people, among whom. I believe she never had a single enemy. She was eminently a pattern of patience, meekness, and submission during a long life of peculiar trials, bodily infirmities, pains and distresses. She was—but I forbear. Her health was visibly declining through tho Winter and Spring, but we did not view her immediately dangerous until the Tuesday before she died. Sho was apparently struck with death Saturday evening, but did not expire till morning. She retained her senses to the last, and left the world, not in triumph, but in that hope which was an anchor to her soul, both sure and steadfast. You and Mrs. Hopkins will, I hope, in your best moments remember your aged and bereaved brother: Naih'l Emmons."

In his Autobiography, this devoted pastor, noting hw personal afflictions according to the Calendar of his Franklin church ; and thus betraying his ministerial " passion strong in" his old age, simply writes: b Within a few weeks after Mr. Smalley's ordination, I was bereaved of my dear consort, who closed her pious, exemplary life in peace to herself and all her surviving friends." having failed at all in Lis public performances, except in the strength of his voice. He remained not less acceptable to other congregations, or to his own parishioners, than he had been for previous years. His people were not less grieved than astonished, by his withdrawal from the office which they thought him able to fill with so much honor. " Many of them were in tears." They remonstrated with him, but it was of no use. They desired him to remain Moderator of the church; but it was of no use. They insisted that he would occasionally at least perform some small part of his old duties ; but his mind was decided. " I have turned a short corner" was his sure word. With unabated attachment to him as a man, with a grateful recollection of his past faithfulness, and under a deep sense of the loss which they now sustained, his people at length yielded their consent to his wishes, and took measures for the supply of the pulpit which he had vacated.

The Epitaph of this devout woman is :

To the Memory of Mrs. Martha Emmoxs, the wife of Kathanael Emmons, D. D., who died Aug. 2, 1829, in the 79th year of her age.

O ! stop the tear, nor sorrow for the blest,
But with her fair example, fire thy breast.
Her worth still lives, that living worth regard,
And with like virtue, seek the same reward.

Another wave of trouble was soon added to the billows which had gone over him. His son-in-law, "Willard Gay, Esq., a gentleman of rare worth, was called suddenly from life, and the widow, having a frail constitution, and sinking under her unexpected bereavement, returned to her father's house, in order to receive that soothing influence which he was skilled in exerting over those who were agitated and disordered both in body and mind.

During each of his later afflictions, he was " an object of admiration to such as beheld the composure with which he sustained the shock, and of deep and compassionate interest to all who considered his great age and lonely condition." He had disciplined himself, by communion with Infinite Grace, to endure calamities with fortitude, and to make disinterested submission the virtue of his life, as well as of his theory. He had often reiterated his own words:

" Men arc apt to murmur and repine because their troubles and afflictions i upon them in an evil time, when they feel less prepared and able to bear them than at any other time. They aro ready to say that if they had been afflicted when they were young, or when they were in their full strength and vigor, or at any time before they felt the infirmities of old age, they could have borne it, but now their afflictions are too heavy for their feeble powers to support. But all ought to remember, that God knows the best times to afflict them, and always chooses the best times to do it. He may sec it best, that some should bear the yoke in their youth that some should bear the yoke in riper years ; that some should bear the yoke in their declining days ; and that some should be afflicted, time after time, from the morning to the evening of lire, and Men receive the heaviest stroke. If it were left to the afflicted to choose the tune of affliction, they would never know what time to choose. If it had been left to Aaron when his sons should die, he would not have chosen that they both should have died the same day, and the next day after ho and they had been consecrated to the priect'i office. If Eli had been allowed to choose the time of his sons' death, he would not have chosen that they should have died in one day, and at a time when he was stooping under the decays of nature, and when the bare news of his bereavement was more than he could support, and live. It is well that God does not allow men to Cdoom when he shall afflict them, but has reserved the times and the seasons in his own power."

But it was difficult for parishioners trained for so long a time by so faithful a guardian, to become satisfied with any one as his successor. They listened to different candidates "for the space of more than two years." During this long period their paternal counsellor exerted himself with unwonted zeal, to procure for them exactly the right man. When Mr. Smalley (afterwards Dr. Smalley of Worcester, Mass., and Troy, N. Y.), was introduced to him, " J like your name " he said: for he could never outgrow his attachment to the Dr. Smalley of his younger days. Dr. Ide writes:

' The day of Mr. Smallcy's ordination, although attended with associations peculiurly solemn to this aged servant of God, was nevertheless one which he appeared to enjoy very highly. Ho rejoiced in the union which now prevailed among his flock ; in the joy and satisfaction which they appeared to feel in view of their prospects ; and in the hope which he himself indulged, that the transactions of that day would be the means of lasting good to the people in whoso spiritual welfare he felt the liveliest interest. He was now in his eighty-fifth year. Not more than once had he addressed his congregation, since ho fainted in the pulpit. A deep silence and a most intense interest pcrvnded the great assembly when he arose to give the charge to his colleague. In a fow and tremulous voice, he thus began:

" Dear Sir, — More than fifty years ago, while standing near this memorable spot, I was consecrated to the Pastoral office over the church and religious society in this place, by my then fathers and brethren in the ministry, who have long since finished their course, and one after another gone the way of all the earth. A vivid recollection of those past scenes and events, awakens the most serious, the most painful and the most grateful reflections, anticipations, and emotions in my breast, on this affecting occasion. Though I have very frequently attended the