sionary,' by way of ridicule; but this did not prevent his earnest desires for their conversion, and ingenuous efforts in their behalf. "His regard for the Sabbath all through his youth was peculiar; his grief in its profanation often expressed; and he was frequently known to take a tract upon the claims of the Sabbath, and go out to give it to persons who were desecrating the holy day. No one could refuse to listen to a word of remonstrance from one so young and interesting in his personal appearance. In the absence of both his brothers at this time, he resorted, as by a social necessity, to more intimate self-communications with his mother and sister; such being the frankness and affection of his character by grace and nature, that his mental exercises and emotions must be shared by others in order to be enjoyed by himself. 66 Many hours were spent at his bedside, after he had retired for the night, in delightful converse. We have often regretted that some record was not preserved of those nightly conversations. So attractive and heavenly would he often be, it was difficult to leave him. His mother sometimes in his early sickness would express her sorrow in leaving him alone through the night. Once, in particular, he sweetly answered her, in the words of Scripture, as was his manner, 'What time I am afraid, I will trust in the Lord.' His early development of faith and devout emotion was no less remarkable than his religious activity. His Christian character, at the first youthful period, when the hand of disease was laid on him so heavily, was signalized by a great love of personal labor for the conversion of those to whom he could gain access. With a few tracts in his hand he would pursue his walks, and speak fervently to those to whom he presented them; and the very sight of one so young and so feeble, engaged in such a work with such simplicity and earnestness, had great power. "So deeply had this habit taken possession of his being, that at times it seemed uppermost even in his dreams. His mother was accustomed to leave a cane by his bedside, that he might knock in the night, should any assistance be needed, under a paroxysm of disease. One night a loud knocking was heard ; and the family, having hastened to him, found him still asleep, but with the cane in his hand, as if calling for assistance. When it was inquired what he wanted, 'Mother,' was his earnest, unconscious exclamation, 'I can't make sinners hear! I can't make sinners hear!' "On one occasion his sister had been out for the afternoon, and did not return till the latter part of the evening. It was in the summer. He had retired, being fatigued with the day's exertion, though at that time better than usual in health. As was always our custom, his room was the first place sought in coming home. She went to tell him of the visit, and convey the messages of Christian friends. He was full of animation and hope; had been to Gardiner to visit the iron-foundry during the day, and his mind was much excited with the thoughts started by what he had seen. In giving an account of it, said he : 'When looking into the heated furnace, with the red ore, I thought of the three worthies who were cast into the one seven times heated; and I felt, as I gazed upon the burning flames, that if Christ should call me, I could go through them without fear.' Such was his joyous experience at that time of the love of Christ. A little after this, while suffering severely under an attack of asthma, he was asked by one of the family, who was going to visit a beloved relative, what message she should carry from him. 'Tell her,' was his immediate reply, in the manner peculiar to himself, — 'tell her, with my love, that the hand of the Lord is heavy upon me, yet I rejoice in him daily.' "Sacred music, by the voice and piano, was a delight and solace to him in his affliction. The hallowed language of praise and adoration was often upon his lips; and his voice, thrilled by feeling, was full of melody. One morning, when he was more than ordinarily under the power of disease, and panting for breath, his mother had left the room upon his partial recovery from a severe coughing-spell. It was but a few minutes after that she was arrested by the sound of singing from his apartment; it was his own voice, lifted in praise for relief, warbling its gratitude in that verse of Watts: 'I'll praise my Maker with my breath; "The scene has closed in mid-ocean. At sea in that little cabin, amidst the storm, and in extreme weakness, though, by the mercy of God, with but little suffering, and in a spirit of calm, sweet confidence in the Redeemer, the last dying struggle of life has been passed through, and the soul has winged its way to heaven. What a blissful change, from an existence the protracted effort of which was a conflict with disease and suffering, and one continued trial of faith and patience, to the unclouded presence and perfect likeness of Christ, in a world of uninterrupted holiness, happiness, and glory. 'Now planted in a world of light, Oh, who shall mourn the early flight, In Christ so beautiful and bright, That drew him from a world like this?' "One after another the treasured hopes and expectations of our dear brother were disappointed till the last that was left was the longing desire to see once more his beloved mother and sister, and, if it might please God, to die among his kindred. But even when every earthly hope is taken away, how completely and calmly can Jesus satisfy the soul! Here, at length, God made it easy for him to dismiss the last desire of life, and submissively and serenely to know that never again on earth would he see the faces of those so dear to him. There was no conflict at last; all he had to do was gently to fall asleep in Jesus. "Once, early in life, amidst the sufferings of his disease, our beloved brother wrote an essay on the characteristics of true resignation to God's will, in answer to a question proposed by his sister. In the course of it he alluded to the trying event of a death and burial at sea, and the glorious hope of the Resurrection, the same hope for friends far away, as for those whose green grassy mounds we visit in the graveyard of our native village. It is affect ing now to read that passage; it seems a long, yet not sad presentiment of what might be his own fate. What matter where, since Christ is still the same, in his grace and saving power, on the sea as on the land? How many dear forms lie shrouded there for the Resurrection! But the sea shall give up her dead; and God's angels can watch them there as securely as beneath heaven's crystal atmosphere. The voice of the ocean is a great cradle hymn, by the music of which the dead may slumber. In the roar of its tempest thunder, or in the calm and mighty sweep of its undulating billows, or in the beating of its surges on a rock-bound shore, or in the solemn tramp of its tides upon the long white lonely beach, it is a perpetual · requiem. "O thou that goest forth upon its waters, drooping and sad, so embark that if thine appointed resting-place should be a bed beneath the deep, thou too mayst sleep in Jesus! Go forth, trusting in him; into his hands commit thy spirit; day by day, while thou breathest the air of the sea, let the breath of prayer ascend to God by faith in Jesus. So shalt thou be at peace; and whether in storm or calm, all winds and waves shall be to thee the voice of God in mercy. Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance and my God.'" GREENPORT, Monday evening, January, 1853. DEAREST, DEAREST Lizzie, - Our dear mother still lives; and by the wonderful manner in which the grace of Christ has been vouchsafed to her and manifested in her, we have all been carried quite to the verge of heaven. I |