In the midst of these active and laborious ser vices for strangers, he was stopped for a moment to sympathize with distresses in the circle of his dearest friends. It pleased the Almighty to visit him with a severe family affliction, which touched all the strings of his affectionate heart, and which terminated in the death of his nephew, Mr. John Venning. This interesting youth had been sent by his beloved parents in London, to reside with his uncle John Venning, Esq. in St. Petersburg.

Some time before the commencement of his last illness, he had read the Scriptures with great attention, and entered into the spirit of personal religion, while all his hopes of acceptance in this world, and in the world to come, rested on the merits and sacrifice of the Son of God.

An extract from Mr. V.'s journal will be the best explanation:

66

Wednesday 24th March, 1820, my dear nephew John died. In a conversation I had with him, in which I expressed a hope that he thought of the Saviour, he replied, "Yes I do very of

ten." I asked, "Do you look to him?" Yes, said he, "I look to him for every thing."-" He can comfort you," I added. " Yes," he replied, "He is the only person who can-I do pray to

D

him." I then said to him, "Do you love the Saviour ?" he answered, "Yes, I hope I do." "Do you feel the comforts of religion ?" Yes, very much." After this I said to him, "Your uncle John and I

you

wish it ?"

you, don't pray for "Yes, to be sure I do, and I pray for every one of you." My brother then said, "Christ is the only refuge;" to which he replied, "He is the only refuge, in this world, and the next." His last words were," Pray with me," which he distinctly and audibly said, after having made a great effort to speak."'

This short extract must be very consolotary to those dear relatives whom he has left behind, The plain but important questions of the uncle evidently shew on what his hopes were built; and the artless but striking answers of the nephew exhibit a mind deeply penetrated with the unutterable value of a Saviour, in that solemn moment when every other refuge fails.

It was the will of God, that the pious uncle should soon follow his beloved nephew. They died within a few months of each other, and are now lying side by side in the Smolensky burying ground, on Williams' Island.

It is remarkable in the history of Mr. Venning,

that scarcely any thing which he undertook failed of its accomplishment. In this particular he was more highly favoured than most other Philanthropists. His friends often viewed it as a wonderful proof of the loving kindness of him who said, "Him that honoureth me I will honour." One morning he was informed of a young English female, about twenty years of age, who had been seduced from the bosom of her friends, and brought to this country, in the service of sin. The poor unfortunate creature soon found that "the way of transgressors is hard." Her constitution being impaired by disease, she was cast off by the man who ought to have been her protector, and left to suffer, to famish, and to die. He immediately communicated this affecting news to a friend who accompanied him to the place of wretchedness where the unhappy sufferer lay, and the scene which presented itself to them is better conceived than described. The young

woman was instantly removed, and placed under the care of a pious family, who being exceedingly grieved to behold such extreme distress, shewed her every kindness. With this family she still resides, weak and emaciated-just tottering on the brink of the grave, but with the cheering hope that she has obtained the remission of her sins, through the merit of a Redeemer. O! with what ineffable delight must the glorified spirit

of Walter Venning look down from its exalted: state, to behold this poor young woman seeking that inheritance which is incorruptible and undefiled. With what rapture must he praise the eternal God, for making him the instrument of such blessedness to his fellow creatures! And ought not these things to stimulate survivors to imitate his bright example! Some marble-hearted monsters, might hear of this act with little emotion, but the individual who makes his calculation according to the rule of the Apostle James, in the last verse of his epistle, will read it with gratitude and delight.

It is hardly probable that any of that class of men who may properly be called, "Seducers,' will read the life of such a holy man as the subject of this Memoir; but if peradventure it should fall into their hands, ought they not to shudder while reading the above? Might not the seducer behold a picture of the same distress that he has brought on some poor helpless female ? And will he venture to proceed and read more of the cursed effects which flow from his unhallowed conduct for seduction in its very nature involves fraud of the worst kind. It is probably always accomplished by means of the most solemn promises, and often, with oaths more solemn.

Both the promises and the oaths, however, are violated in a manner supremely profligate and shameful. The objects to which they are directed are base, malignant and treacherous in the extreme; and the manner in which it is perpetrated is marked with the same treachery and baseness. He who can coolly adopt it, has put off the character of a man, and put on that of a fiend; and with the spirit of a fiend alone, he pursues and accomplishes the infernal purpose. The ruin sought and achieved is immense. It is not the filching of property. It is not the burning of a house. It is not the deprivation of liberty. It is not the destruction of life. The seducer plunders the wretched victim of character, morals, happiness, hope, and heaven :-and enthrals her in the bondage of sin. With the same comprehensive and terrible malignity he destroys himself; calls down upon his own head the ven geance of that Almighty hand which will suffer no sinner to escape; and awakens the terrors of that undying conscience which will enhance even the agonies of perdition. All this is perpetrated in the mean time under strong professions of peculiar affection-with the persuasive language of tenderness, and with the smiles of gentleness and complacency. For the seducer

"Can smile, and smile, and be a villain."