he was frequently tried by the impertinent curiosity and irritating remarks of persons who came into the work-shop where he was carrying on his humble operations. The first Saturday which he spent in this village, Mr. S. particularly remarked, that at an early hour in the afternoon he put by his work, and began to hum a hymn tune. He asked him if he could sing. "No, sir," he replied. "I thought," added Mr. S., "I heard you singing." "I was only composing my thoughts a little," said the good man, "for the Sabbath." What a contrast to the busy worldliness which so often devotes the Saturday evening to more than the ordinary fatigue and bustle of secular pursuits, entrenching on the very limits of the Sabbath, and unfitting both the mind and body for a vigorous discharge of its duties, and the enjoyment of its hallowed pleasures! How much more fervent and delightful would be the hours of this priviledged season, if, wherever practicable, Christians would endeavour, before the close of the preceding day, to forget their worldly cares, and to attune their hearts to the spiritual feelings of this interval of sacred rest! On receiving the communication of the foregoing particulars, I was induced to return to the poor stranger, with a view to converse with him a little. There was a peculiar bluntness in his manner of expressing himself, but it was very far removed from any thing of churlishness or incivility. All his answers were pertinent, and were sometimes given in such measured terms as quite astonished me. The following was a part of our conversation :-"Well, my friend, what are you about? Making scissar-chains, sir." "And how long does it take you to make one?" With peculiar archness he looked up in my face (for, as was before observed, his head always rested upon his bosom, so that the back part of it was depressed nearly to the same horizontal plane with his shoulders), and with a complacent smile said, "Ah! and you will next ask me how many I make in a day; and then what the wire costs me; and afterwards what I sell them for." From the indirectness of his reply, I was induced to conclude that he was in the habit of making something considerable from his employment, and wished to conceal the amount of his gains. But when I became better acquainted with his manner, and found that after his utmost exertion he could scarcely obtain the meagre pittance before mentioned, I perceived that his apparent reluctance to make known his poverty proceeded from his habitual Christian contentment. How different would have been the conduct of most persons in similar circumstances! and how eagerly would they have given a ready answer to my inquiry, in the hope of exciting compassion and procuring assistance! I next asked him, why he followed his present vagrant life, in preference to a stationary one, in which he would be better known and more respected. "The nature of my business," he replied, "requires that I should move about from place to place, that having exhausted my custom in one spot, I may obtain employment in another. Besides,' added he, "my mode of life has at least this advantage, that if I leave my friends behind me, I leave also my enemies." When I asked him his age, he replied, with a strong and firm voice, "That is a question which I am frequently asked, as if persons supposed me to be a great age: why I am a mere boy." "A mere boy!" I repeated," and pray what do you mean by that expression?" "I am sixty-five years of age, sir; and with a light heel and a cheerful heart, hope to hold out a considerable time longer." Indeed, he seemed always happy: even in the period of his subsequent extreme suffering, his bosom appeared scarcely suffici ently capacious for his joyful feelings. I can do but little justice to the hilarity of his heart, for it was a matter of astonishment to all who witnessed it. The spring of his cheerfulness was religion. Nothing seemed to damp his confidence in God. In the course of our conversation, he said, "It is not often that I am honoured with the visits of clergymen. Two gentlemen, however, of your profession once came to me when I was at in in his native sprightly manner, “No matter; there are two sides to the river:" intimating, as I concluded, that although separated for a time by the waters of discord which flow between them, all who are the true servants of Christ are pursuing the same direction, and will find their course terminate at the same point. There were many other instances of his readiness in reply, which have escaped my recollection. In the midst of the din of business, the roaring of the forge bellows, and the deafening noise of the hammer and the anvil, I regret that I had but little opportunity of entering deeply into religious subjects. What however he said, though I cannot recollect the particulars, gave me an exalted idea of his contentment, cheerfulness, and genuine piety. and I expressed a hope that I should derive some advantage from their conversation," "We are come," said they,' "with the same expectation to you, for we understand that you know many things." "I told them, that I feared they would be greatly disappointed." He then stated that the old scholastic question was proposed to him, "Why has God given us two ears, and one mouth?" "I replied," said he, "that we may hear twice as much. Before I took my leave of him, I as we speak ;" adding, with his ac- asked, how long he intended to remain customed modesty, "I should not "I should not in the village. He answered, “I have been able to have given an do not know; but as I have houseanswer to this question if I had not room and fire without any tax, I am heard it before." I should not have quite satisfied with my situation, retailed this anecdote, but for the and only regret the trouble I am sake of thus incidentally illustrating occasioning to my kind host." the humility and absence of selfesteem which characterized this good man's remarks; though having given it, I may perhaps be allowed to add, that if the rich, whether clerical or laic, duly considered how deep an impression their most casual remarks often make on the minds of the poor, long after they are forgotten by themselves, they would be more careful than oftentimes they are that their “speech should be with grace, seasoned with salt," and that not only no positively corrupt communication should proceed out of their mouth, but that their most transient intercourse should be, in its measure, "to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers."-The divisions which distract the church of Christ being alluded to, I lamented that there should be any separation between men whose hopes and interests are the same. He immediately rejoined From that period to the 20th of the month, being much engaged with domestic concerns, I saw but little of him, and do not recollect any particular remark or incident. On the morning of that day I met him creeping along under a vast burthen, having previously heard that he had set out on the preceding Monday on a journey to Bristol, to procure a fresh stock of wire. There he had nearly expended his little all; and, with half-a-hundred weight of wire upon his back, and three halfpence in his pocket, the sole remains of his scanty fund, he returned on foot to this place. He had been two days on the road, and had passed the intervening night before a coal-pit fire in a neighbouring village. The snow was lying deeply upon the ground, and altogether the scene was desolate beyond descrip tion. I was glad once more to see him, and, accosting him, inquired if he were not very tired. "A little, a little," he replied. Then taking off his hat, he asked if he could execute any thing for me. I gave him an order for some trifling articles, which he brought to me on the following Wednesday. He came to my house just as I was engaged on particular business; I went out, however, for a few minutes, and, after paying him for the articles, entered into conversation with him. He repeated many admirable adages, with which his memory appeared to be well stored, and incidentally touched upon the word cleanliness. Immediately I added, "cleanliness is next to godliness," and seized the opportunity which I had long wanted, but from fear of wounding his mind hesitated to embrace, to tell him of the absence of that quality in himself. He with much good nature replied, "I believe I am substantially clean. I have a clean shirt every week: my business, however, necessarily makes me dirty in my person." "But why do you not dress more tidily, and take more care of yourself? You know that God has given us the comforts of life that we may enjoy them. Cannot you afford yourself these comforts?" "That question," said he emphatically, but by no means rudely, " you should have set out with. No, sir, I cannot afford myself these comforts." His long fustian trowsers concealed nearly the whole of his foot; but about the instep I thought I perceivedconsiderable inflammation, and made inquiry respecting it. "Oh, it is nothing particular," said he; it is a little tender." Perceiving that he had a miserable pair of shoes upon his feet, I asked him if he thought he could wear a pair of mine. He said he felt obliged to me for my kind intention, but he would not trouble me. I however fetched a pair, and with much persuasion made him accept them. He expressed himself much gratified; only adding, with his accustomed humility, that they were too good. I mention these circumstances, in themselves trifling, to shew how very different was the conduct of this poor man from what might have been expected from a person in his destitute condition. I am persuaded that it was not apathy or pride, but a far higher principle, that thus had taught him, "in whatever station he was, therewith to be content." My engagements now requiring my presence elsewhere, I left the poor creature for the present by the side of my kitchen fire, determining to see him the next day, and to have some farther conversation with him. When I visited him, I found him in his usual station, working upon his chains. He was sitting—a posture in which he did not often indulge. I requested to look at his foot, for it was turned away from me towards the wall. With the greatest astonishment and alarm, I found the whole leg, from the foot to the knee, so prodigiously swollen, that he had been obliged to rip up his trowsers. It exhibited one continued appearance of black, exceptwhere it was distained by bladders and patches of blood. It was only partially protected from the extreme inclemency of the weather by the separated parts of the fustian trowsers. He continued to manifest his usual cheerfulness. "I must insist," said I, "upon your allowing something to be done to it. The doctor is expected in the village to-day, and you must see him; I will give orders for him to call in upon you." "That is kind, very kind," he replied. At this moment some ignorant prattler in the shop was exclaiming, in a very vexatious and offensive manner, that he would not have such a leg (taking off his hat) for that full of guineas. The old man looked up somewhat sharply at him, and said," Nor I, if I could help it." The other, however, proceeded with his canting, when the afflicted creature added, "You only torture me by your observations." I mention this, because it was the only instance approaching to impatience witnessed by those who had the most constant access to him. I proposed getting a bed for him, for I found that of late he had slept in one corner of the work-shop, upon the bare earth, without his clothes, the blanket as customary being wraped round his shoulders. We wished to have procured him a bed within some habitable abode; but he preferred remaining where he was, and requested us only to provide for him some clean straw. As he seemed fixed to his purpose, we consented to comply with his wish; and after arranging every thing as well as we could for his accommodation, I mentioned my intention of immediately sending him some warm broth, which he declined with his usual answer, "I have had enough; it would be intemperate." I then left him under the care of his worthy friend. The next morning I visited my patient as early as I could, and was greatly alarmed to find that the swelling and blackness of his leg had increased, and were now extending themselves rapidly towards the vital parts of his body. The blood which had oozed from his wound had literally soaked his straw-bed, and his leg was unprotected from the friction of the straw, and was exposed to the cold air; for his extremities, when I came into the shop, were in a state of complete nudity. He was at times delirious, and his whole frame was in a degree convulsed; but he dozed during the greater part of the day. Nothing could exceed this picture of misery! Having attended to his immediate wants, I went up by his side, and gently inquired how he was. From his head being muffled in his blanket, he did not hear me. Mr. S. removed the clothes, and asked, "How are you?" "Happy, happy!" was the reply. "I am truly grieved my friend," I said, " to see you in this deplorable condition. Are you suffering much pain?" "I am sick," said he, "and very weak." At this moment the arrival of the medical gentleman was announced. I ran to him, and begged that he would come and see this wretched object. He accompanied me back to the work shop, which he had no sooner entered, than I perceived by an involuntary gesture that he had not before witnessed many such objects of misery, even in a very extensive country practice. He at once informed me there was but little hope of life. Warm fomentations, and large doses of bark and port wine, he said, were the only remedies. Of course no time was lost in administering them. I had previously provided a bed in a neighbouring house, and informed the suffering patient of my wish to remove him to it, and my anxiety that he should take the medicines prescribed. He very meekly submitted to all I proposed, saying that he was willing to take any thing; but, he added, " One night more, and I shall be beyond this world." The next morning, Saturday, I found him lying in the comfortable bed to which we had carefully removed him the preceding evening, in his usual calm and contented frame of mind, willing to live, but still more willing to die. I cannot describe the dreadful appearance which his whole body now assumed. His leg was again fomented, and he partook of some broth with eager ness, but his dissolution was evidently drawing near. His speech was almost unintelligible. Delirium became more frequent, and his hands were often apparently employed in the task to which they had been so long habituated, making links for chains: but, alas! it was a fruitless effort, no wire was now near him, no chains were the result of his labours. By addressing him, you seemed for a moment to recal his mind from its aberrations, and during such intervals he was perfectly collected. His respiration became more and more hurried. Finding that there was scarcely a ray of hope of preserving his life, I gave orders that he should be allowed to remain quite quiet upon his bed, being simply supplied with what sustenance was necessary. After his attendants were gone, I sat down by his bed-side, and said to him, "I am afraid you are very ill; but I trust you have no fears respecting your future happiness, should it please God to summon you to appear before him?" He opened his eyes, and instantly said, "Fed by his hand, supported by his care, I scarce can doubt: why then should I despair? "Ah, my friend," I rejoined, "what an inconceivable blessing it is to have the Son of God for our Friend!" "It is, it is!" said he, in a tone and manner that indicated that he was accustomed to look to God through that Divine Mediator, and that he was practically acquainted with the truth of that scriptural, declaration, "To them that believe, Christ is precious." Seeing his spectacles lying upon his pillow, I said, "There are your spectacles; but I do not think they have brought your Bible: I dare say you would like to read it?" "By and bye," he replied: "I am pretty well acquainted with its contents." All his fire had now expended itself. I found him articulate so indistinctly, and he appeared exhausted, that after commending him to the protection of his God and Saviour, I took my leave of him. As I was departing, he said, "You have done your duty by me, I can say without flattery." Alas! poor soul, would that I had thee here again (if that were not tò bring thy spirit from the mansions of rest and peace), that I might shew thee how deeply conscious I am of not having done my duty! I pray God to pardon my coldness, my inactivity, my general remissness! Yes, much more would I have done for thy comfort, much more might I have learned for my own. But thou art gone! May the impression which thou hast left upon my mind never be effaced. May I learn also more diligently to work while it is called to-day, since the night cometh in which no man can work! Oh how many opportunities of doing or receiving good do we suffer to pass away, not knowing their value till they are for ever beyond our reach! On Sunday morning, the knell too well convinced me that my humble friend was no more. I hastened to his chamber. His happy spirit had fled to the bosom of his Maker. He died about two o'clock in the morning without a sigh. His last word was in answer to the question, How are you? "Happy" a happiness built upon a solid foundation; for, notwithstanding his afflictions in this world, the Saviour was his Friend, the Holy Spirit was his Comforter, and God was his Pórtion and exceeding great Reward. I could not avoid adverting in my discourses on that day to the happy circumstances of this departed saint, who, without a friend, excepting those whom Providence had unexpectedly raised up in his emergency, and without any earthly comforts, had so completely divested himself of every murmur and complaint. Surely nothing but Divine Grace could have enabled him thus to triumph in tribulation. It was in the school of Christ, as I have before remarked, that he had thus learned, in whatsoever state he was, therewith to be content. A very respectable funeral was arranged under the management of the kind friend who at first sheltered him, nor forsook him so long as he continued a tenant of our earth. The corse was followed by a long train of, I think I may say, very sincere mourners; for though his residence in the village had been short, and his station was very obscure, yet his character, wherever he was known, conciliated a degree of affection and esteem, which were the more unequivocal, as they were an unbought, and perfectly disinterested, testimony to virtues which a homely exterior could not conceal or poverty disgrace. It has been already mentioned, that this poor man was a regular frequenter of Divine worship, and a diligent reader of that holy book which was able to make him wise |