The long-continued excitement and anxiety, the oftrepeated journeys on foot in all weathers, the sharpness of the mountain air, and the suffocating heat of a small room in which so many persons were crowded together day after day, these, with the everlasting labour of speaking, deprivation added to hard work, coarse food, and the unwholesome quality of it, brought on weakness of stomach, weakness of lungs, weakness of brain, weakness of heart, and, indeed, weakness everywhere. In fact, Neff was "used up" almost before he knew what the strength of manhood was, and he dropped from the just-opened blossom into decay. Yet he would not relax; he struggled through the summer of 1826 pretty well, and when the winter came he resumed his labours in the school with a cheerful serenity. He preached often, sometimes on the rock and sometimes half-buried in snow, and having suffered a severe accident by the fall of an avalanche, which partly buried him in the midst of his labours, he became at last incapable of attending to his duties, and on the 17th of April, 1827, he was compelled to leave for ever his affectionate flocks, so widely scattered among the mountains. He was attended with the most faithful devotion by those he had instructed, and the heads of families and the children met him to bid him adieu with unfeigned sorrow. He preached a farewell sermon, being scarcely able to stand in the pulpit, and felt a deep struggle on leaving the friends he had so dearly loved. Then he journeyed homewards. At Plombières he addressed the gay throng who frequented it for the sake of fashion, or for their health, but he was now waning fast, and his sufferings were becoming extreme, yet he bore all with patience and resignation. One who was near him, and witnessed his dying scene, remarks that he never heard a murmur escape from his lips. He bore all with patience and resignation, and was grateful for the services his friends afforded him. He often threw his arms about their necks, embraced them, and exhorted them with all his soul to devote themselves to God. Knowing his love for sacred music, they frequently assembled in a room near his own, and sang in an under-tone verses of his favourite hymns. This singing filled his soul with a thousand feelings and recollections, and affected him so much. that they were obliged to discontinue it. He made presents to his friends, and set apart religious books suitable to what he imagined to be the spiritual condition of each for their perusal, and gave others to those to whom he hoped to be useful, and underlined those passages worthy their serious thoughts. The last letter he wrote was addressed to his friends among the Alpine regions. It was full of expressions of tenderness and the love of the Redeemer, and at its close he said :— 'Adieu, dear friend André Blanc, Antoine Blanc; all my friends; the Pelissiers, whom I love tenderly; Francis Dumont and his wife; beloved Deslors, Emile Bonnell, Alexandrine and her mother; all the brethren and sisters of Mens adieu! adieu! I ascend to our Father in entire peace. Victory! victory! victory! through Jesus Christ! "FELIX NEFF." On the last night of his life it was necessary to attend him constantly, to hold him in his convulsive struggles, to support his fainting head, to wipe the icy perspiration from his forehead, and to bend or straighten his stiffened limbs-the centre of his body only retained any warmth. For four hours his eyes were observed raised to Heaven; each breath that escaped his panting bosom seemed accompanied by a prayer; and at that awful period when the heaviness of death was on him, in the ardent expression of his supplication he appeared more animated than ever. The power of faith was so visible in his countenance that he imparted fresh faith to those who stood by. His soul seemed hovering on his lips, and panted for eternity. At last, all so well understood what his vehement desire was, that with one impulse they ejaculated, “Come, Lord Jesus! come quickly!" Soon after, Neff was at rest. The character of this mountain pastor, young as he was, will ever be worthy of contemplation and imitation. It is not many who are placed by circumstances in such a field of exertion; but there are other scenes equally sublime with the rocks and cataracts, the peaks and ravines, in which Christian effort is still wanting, and no one, however young, but has an opportunity of becoming the Christian hero, if he likes. The heights of wickedness have to be scaled, the depths of misery to be sounded, and the love of Christ to be spread abroad, although peril may surround us at every step. |