and a cheerful disposition. He delighted in the service of the Lord, loved to attend the means of grace, to read good books, and to be with God's people. When he was about four years old, as he was walking by his mother's side, he said to her, "Mother, one of your children is in heaven; and if I should be taken up into heaven as Elijah was, you would have half of your family there should you not be glad?" At another time he heard a sermon preached from Isaiah xii. 2: "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song, he also is become my salvation." The subject seems to have made such an impression on his mind as never forsook him. He mentioned it with great ardour in his last sickness; and remarked that he knew God was his salvation.

When he was fourteen years of age, he was engaged as organist in the parish church; in the discharge of which duty his mind became seriously impressed, and the Clergyman's discourses were very beneficial to him. About twelve months after, he was desirous of going with his father to a class-meeting; and after attending a few times he obtained a note of admission into the Methodist society; of which he continued a steady, zealous, humble member to the day of his death, esteemed and beloved by all his class, and by the society in general, and always anxiously concerned to bring others to a sense of their duty, as well as to secure his own growth in grace. His closet and his Bible bear testimony to his esteem for the religion he professed; and his ardent desire was to be made conformable to the bright example of his Lord.

After he joined the Methodist society, he attended the Lord's table, in obedience to the injunction, "Do this in remembrance of me.'

Both before and after his public profession of religion, his reproofs of sin were fraught with great prudence and wisdom, and accompanied with divine power.

Towards the close of his earthly career, his temptations were numerous; the enemy of his soul harassed him continually, but could not shake his steadfast faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Being visited by his Christian friends, he was asked if he thought he should die: he replied, "I do not think it right to harass my mind as to whether I shall live or die; but to give myself up into the hands of God, that I may be prepared for his will, whether it be life or death." While his mother was reading to him a hymn on the characters of Christ, it charmed his soul with joy unspeakable; and one evening, as he went to rest, his soul was filled with the love of God. He said he was happy in the love of God; and that God for Christ's sake had blotted out all his sins. At another time he said to his mother, "I think it an insult to Jesus Christ to imagine that there is not efficacy in his blood to wash away all my sins. I will believe; I must believe.” As his frame became weaker, his evidence of the favour of God

became clearer; so that he met his last enemy with an undaunted mind. A short time before his departure, be requested his father to call the family to prayer. When united in this exercise, the divine presence was powerfully manifested, and the influence of the Holy Spirit evidently felt in every heart. They could all say, "It is good to be here." While his father prayed, his countenance bespoke his happy feelings; and his responses showed the interest he felt in the holy exercise, and intimated to all present that he would soon be with God.

When life was ebbing out, he was heard to say, "It is almost over,-praise,-come to Jesus." At length his imprisoned soul, without a lingering groan, escaped to the realms of light and glory. Thus died, of a consumption, this amiable youth, on Christmas eve, 1828, aged eighteen years and ten months. DAVID DUCKHAM.

POETRY.

LINES ON AN ORPHAN.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

THOU hast been rear'd too tenderly,
Beloved too well and long,
Watch'd by too many a gentle eye:
Now look on life-be strong!

Too quiet seem'd thy joys for change,
Too holy and too deep:

Bright clouds, through summer skies that range,
Seem ofttimes thus to sleep,-

To sleep, in silvery stillness bound,
As things that ne'er may melt;
Yet gaze again-no trace is found
To show thee where they dwelt.
This world hath no more love to give
Like that which thou hast known;
Yet the heart breaks not-we survive
Our treasures-and bear on.

But O! too beautiful and blest

Thy home of youth hath been;

Where shall thy wing, poor bird! find rest,
Shut out from that sweet scene ?

Kind voices from departed years
Must haunt thee many a day;

Looks that will smite the source of tears,
Across thy soul must play.

Friends-now the alter'd or the dead-
And music that is gone,

A gladness o'er thy dreams will shed,

And thou shalt wake alone.

I

Alone!-it is in that deep word
That all thy sorrow lies;

How is the heart to courage stirr'd
By smiles from kindred eyes!

And are these lost?—and have I said
To aught like thee, Be strong?
So bid the willow lift its head,
And brave the tempest's wrong!

Thou reed! o'er which the storm hath pass'd,
Thou shaken with the wind,

On one, one Friend, thy weakness cast,-
There is but One to bind.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

BY WM. LEGGETT.

THE birds when winter shades the sky,
Fly o'er the seas away,

Where laughing isles in sunshine lie,
And summer breezes play.

And thus the friends that flutter near,

While fortune's sun is warm,

Are startled if a cloud appear,

And fly before a storm.

But when from winter's howling plains

Each other warbler 's pass'd,

The little snow-bird still remains,

And chirps amid the blast.

Love, like that bird, when friendship's throng

With fortune's sun depart,

Still lingers with its cheerful song,
And nestles on the heart.

THE PROGRESS OF LIFE.

I DREAM'D I heard an infant's feeble cry,-
Look'd round, and saw a rosy boy at play;
And as I gazed, he changed to man; his eye

Sparkled with health; his form was comely, gay:
He changed again; his dark brown hair turn'd grey;
His eyes were dim, his health, his bloom decay'd.
I wept; but ere my tears were wiped away,
His hoary head beneath the sod was laid,

And near his grave I saw the sexton with his spade!

T. W.

Printed by Mills, Jowett, and Mills, Bolt-Court, Fleet-Street.