"From this time forth I watched my nephew most narrowly, and that with much still remaining suspicion; for I could not banish from my mind the idea that some sly design or unworthy motive lay at the root of his religious profession. Ere long, however, I was compelled to acknowledge the injustice of this judgment.

"Paul's state of health grew daily worse, and the pulmonary affection, which had been the cause of his leaving the army, made such rapid progress, as to excite the most serious apprehensions of even a speedy termination of his life. In moments of intense suffering, which were, indeed, of but too frequent occurrence, he would clasp his hands, and with an upward look of filial submission, murmur out,' Have pity, O my Father, and help me; yet not my will, but thine be done!' or, 'Precious Saviour, I know and am sure that all things must work together for good to them who love thee!'

"But what most of all affected me, was his unchanging meekness and contentment. He was satisfied with every arrangement, and grateful for the most trifling attention to his comfort, so that we were all struck with it; and I one day observed to my wife, that Paul's change of character was the most extraordinary thing I had ever met with,-more especially the manner in which he spoke of God's goodness towards him, at the very time he was enduring such agony of body, and anticipating death, filled me, I said, with astonishment.

"True,' replied my wife, 'but I'll tell you a secret which accounts for it-Paul is a christian, a true christian !'

"What do you mean by that?' retorted I, 'neither you nor I are heathens I hope.'

"Ah! my dear husband,' replied she, "not quite heathens, perhaps, and yet not real christians! For 1 put it to yourself, has God been hitherto the chief subject of our thoughts, or his law the rule of our actions? We scarcely knew the name of Jesus formerly, or, at all events, when we did pronounce it, no sense of benefit derived from him, or dependence on him for salvation, accompanied the word. But in my intercourse with Paul, I have learned things which constitute my greatest joy.'

"In your intercourse with Paul, you

have learned new things; and, pray, what are they?' asked # .£47.IMU.GY "Listen," said she. Some little time ago, as I was one day trying to prop up the poor boy, in one of his sad fits of suffocation, a little book fell out from beneath his, pillow; I afterwards picked it up from the floor, and saw it was a New Testament; of which I had indeed heard, but never before seen. one. The following day I mentioned my discovery to Paul. He then related to me that a soldier, who had been mortally wounded close beside him, had given him this book, and expired immediately afterwards; that the dying man had bade him read it; that he had done so ; and that this legacy had proved to him the treasure of all treasures, the source of his change of character, his peace, and his joy. Every day since, when he and I have been alone, Paul has looked out passages of the Testament for me to read to him; and he has given me such plain and simple expla nations of what I did not understand, that I soon began to believe and to love the great good news, that God sent his only Son into the world, that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but receive everlasting life. Paul is anxious to speak to you also of these things, but he is afraid; and, indeed, the poor boy blames himself much for this coward fear, which he calls treachery towards his Saviour, and is constantly praying that he may be strengthened to confess him, not only before you, but before the whole world.'

"This communication of my wife's," said the landlord, with deep feeling, "made a great impression on me. I went oftener than before to my nephew's sick-bed, and, blessed be God, he soon began to tell me also of the gospel of Christ; and God, who is rich in mercy, bestowed his effectual blessing on Paul's instructions, so that not only my wife, my son and daughter, but my own hardened self, received the truth, and am able to testify, as the Samaritans did of old, 'Now we believe, not because of his saying, but we ourselves know that this is indeed Christ, the Saviour of the world.'

"Paul is no longer among us," continued the host, with a trembling voice; "the Lord has called him home. But," said he,. as he laid his hand on the New Testament which had first attracted the traveler's attention, "this is the dumb, and yet most eloquent witness of the immeasurable goodness of God, and the instrument of convey-,.

The The

The

So thought we as, returning just now from the funeral of a friend, we fell once more into the current of busy life. world knows nothing of our loss. world cares nothing for our grief. world is full of life and motion; it cannot stay for death. The very hearse as it moved slowly through the streets was jostled by the stage, the wagon, the pleasure-carriage, in their impatient haste. The funeral procession crossing the great thoroughfare was broken to let pass the vehicles of trade, and men hurrying to busiThe world moves on.

ness.

He seemed to be worth something to the world. A man of noble form and mienthey must have marked him on the street these many years. A man of wise counsels, of high integrity, of large benevolence-they must have prized him in the intercourse of life. Do they know that he is dead? Do they care that he is dead? Why do not they pause to think of it? In the country village the death of such a man would throw a gloom over every dwelling. Labour would stand still, and all the population would come as mourners to his grave, and then go home sadly to feel his loss. Here, the family circle, a few tried friends, a few brethren of the church, have gathered at his funeral, but even the neighbours are not there, and there is no diminution of the moving throng in the street. The scriptures are read, words of comfort are spoken, prayer is offered, but all amid the din of carts, and bells, and cries, and the tramp of hurrying feet sounding up through the windows. And when we come out there is no sign of change, no gloom upon the houses, no solemn stillness in the air, no shock or scar on the world's brow. But did not the world feel that shock ?

was like the felling of can oaks Then the forest resounds, the neighbouring trees sway to and fro with the concussion, and. winds rush in to fill the chasm. But in this great dense forest of life there is hardly a sensation as one and another falls.. The vine that clung to the oak is trailed on the ground, and the young saplings quiver, a few surrounding trees bow their heads to the blast, but straightway erect them again, and the forest seems as thick and sturdy as ever. Even the king of a nation falls almost without a shock. The wheels of government pause but for a moment, a new set of hands are summoned to the vacant posts, and everything moves on as before. Man dies, but the world moves on. Life hurries on. We feel it at this moment, when inclination would dispose us to quiet meditation on the loss of a friend, but parish, press, and pulpit demand that we shall work. And work we must while life lasts.

It is well that this is so. Life has a present interest. Its value does not lie simply in its relation to death and the future. While we must feel the pressure of the world to come if we would ennoble life to its just aim, and while we should be uplifted and borne along by the Infinite and the Eternal, yet we cannot live in heaven before our time. Nor should we be always preparing to die as our distinctive and absorbing occupation. We are living men, and are placed in this world to live. Life is an earnest work. And as the world moves on we must move with it, and seek to guide its energy and its progress to high and holy ends. Our Saviour prayed not that his disciples should be taken out of the world, but that they should be kept from the evil. And while in the world, they must finish the work He has given them to do. For this the thought of death, and the frequent and vivid contemplation of the future will give them faith, and diligence, and patience. But life must not wait for death. The world moves on, it must move on although men die. Yet the world feels its losses, though it does not stop to notice them. taken out of it is a loss. feel the loss, the world will feel the loss, of the good man we have buried to-day. For a while at least some interests will not do

Every good man The church will

so well without him. His prayers will be a want, his charities will be a want, his counsels will be a want, his example will be a want, not only in his immediate circle, but also in the ever-widening circles that swell out from that, till lost on the remotest shores of time. Though the tide of life, by its mighty pressure, overbears a single death, yet that death makes a ripple on its surface; disturbs, discolours, perhaps divides, the stream. The good man's death is felt till others take his place and fulfil his work. Neither does the world move on without him whom it has lost. His memory lives, his influence lives, his work follows him. And these all are added to the grand sum of influences that are shaping this world's character and destiny. The world is made up not merely of those at any one moment upon its stage, but of all the past interblending with their thoughts, and feelings, and acts, and giving its impress to the present and its course to the future. Man is not born into this world, merely to die out of it. If he lives to any purpose he still lives here after death. The world moves on as if without him, yet it moves on by and through his influence. With what a sanctity does this invest our life! There is perversion often in the well-meant counsel, "Live each day as if it were your last." Rather live each day as if you were to last, knowing that what you do and are will last when you are gone. We are to live, and not to die, daily. And living rightly we shall be always ready to die. Death shall then bring to us a twofold life; a life of purity and bliss in heaven, and a life of influence and power still on earth. The friend we this day buried is not dead. They carried him away to the quiet village, which was his summer retreat, and there they laid him in the bare and stiffened earth. The city knows not his resting-place. But soon the fresh grass will spring, and flowers will bloom, and trees will blossom in that lone church-yard, and so will virtue, truth, and holiness spring up the richer from his grave. Thus will "the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust." We lately heard an address to children commended because the speaker talked to them not as if he thought they were at once to die, but as if he expected them to live and to accomplish something in life. So should we in the high christian sense live while we may and die when God calls

us, in life or death discharging the duty of the hour. This was the high moral significance of that strange answer of Christ to him who would go home and bury his fathers;"Let the dead bury their dead: follow thou me." Thou art a living man and hast the work of life to do. The world moves on, and my cause must not be re tarded nor thy salvation hindered, by offices of respect and kindness to the dead or by unavailing grief. While the battle rages, fighting men must not stop to pick up the slain.

The world moves on. The forces of steam and electricity now drive its wheels. Faster and faster all things fly. Yet the world and all that it contains shall have an end. Its marts shall be deserted, its bustle and clamour shall cease, and all be silent as the grave. But in this world, moving on with it, is a kingdom that shall have no end. That kingdom hastens to its glorious consummation. Though men die, Christ's cause moves on. How grand has been its march since first apostles suffered and martyrs died. And they that are of this kingdom shall live and reign with it when time and earth shall cease to move.

THE DYING CHILD'S REQUEST.

A man of the name of M-, noted for his ungovernable temper and proneness to dissipation, employed me as his attorney, and I frequently examined the dockets for him, and, as a conveyancer, made out deeds of property which he purchased and sold. He was a good paymaster, but exceedingly disagreeable in his deportment, often drunk, and most profane in his language. He called one day, and seemed much subdued, much altered from his usual deportment. After stating his wants, he was about leaving my office. I asked what was the matter with him, he seemed so changed. He stopped, hesitated, but made no reply. I asked again what could have occurred to make such an alteration in his whole de

meanour.

"Squire," said he, "something has occurred; I am indeed an altered man. I had a little son, about nine years old; he was as dear to me as the apple of my eye; and, at times, when I went home from my work intoxicated, I abused my wife, drove her and the other children from the house, broke the furniture, and did all in my power to make my family as miserable as myself. This little

boy, when I was at the height of my anger, would watch me, and when I would sit down, would steal up to my knee, climb upon my lap, pass his little hand through my hair, and tame me down irresistibly, when my wife and the other children would fearlessly come in, knowing, from experience, that my little son had subdued me, and I was in his power. Well, Squire, my son took sick; it was evident to me he would not recover. I sat by his bedside; he was in a doze; the tears gushed from my eyes as I watched him; my heart was sad indeed! He awoke, he turned his face towards me. Father, you are crying. What is the matter?' 'I am afraid, my son, I am going to lose you, -you are going to die.' 'Well, father, I know I am going to die, but I am not afraid to die, for I will go to Jesus.' 'To Jesus! Why, what do you know about Jesus?' 'Why, father, you know mother used to send me to the Sunday-school at the corner, and the teachers told me all about Jesus, and taught me how to pray; and for this reason, father, I was never afraid of you when you came home drunk, and abused poor mother and the children; and I saw that you could not injure me. Now, father, I am going to die, and would die quite happy if you would promise me to do two things.' 'Well, my son, what are they? If it is in my power I will do them.' Father, promise

me that you will drink no more whisky; this is the cause of all poor mother's distress; and if you would not drink, you would be a good man, and mother and the children would be so happy. Well, father, now promise me that you will pray.' 'Pray! why, I don't know how to pray !' 'Father, kneel down by my bed, and I will teach you how to pray!' Squire, I knelt down; he prayed; I followed, repeating his words; my heart was broke; he led me I know not where, or how, or how long; but this I know, that light, comfort, peace, and joy, filled my soul, as I rejoiced in a sin-pardoning God. My wife came in, the children followed, and all fell on their knees around the bed. We all rejoiced, and when I raised my head to bless the instrument of my conversion, he was dead! His spirit had been wafted away to heaven with the glad news of my repentance; he was an eye-witness to that joy which is among the angels of God over a sinner that repenteth. His hands were clasped as in prayer, and a sweet smile sealed his lips in death."

Therefore, my beloved brethren, seeing what the Sunday school can do, "be ye steadfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as you know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord."

CHURCH MEMBERS VOTING BY PROXY.

A correspondent, "Aliquis," wishes for our opinion on the propriety of allowing votes by proxy in the election of ministers or deacons, on the part of those who cannot be present at the meeting in which a decision is taken.

On general principles there appears to be nothing objectionable in voting by proxy when there is to be no further discussion of a question. In the House of Lords proxies are allowed, probably on the supposition that the subject has generally been previously discussed in the other House, although, technically, each House is presumed to be ignorant of the other's debates. In railway meetings, too, proxies are allowed, although there is frequently much discussion before the voting. There could, therefore, be no violation of our social habits in

proxy voting; and the social habits (so far as not sinful) of each community form a large part of the ground covered by the injunction-to do "all things decently and in order." Probably in no part of the world are social habits of public and business meetings more in accordance with the democratic character of New Testament churches, and of christianity itself, than in England and its daughter-the United States.

It is always, however, well to enquire how far the spiritual, devotional, and BROTHERLY character of our religion should moderate and modify the use of our rights. No organization or plan can be pronounced best in itself; factious, party, contentious motives, convert, of course, the best organization into the worst church. In the present question we should say, therefore, if it be the general wish that each member should

express an opinion, or if some members necessarily absent much wish to vote, it would be both wise and kind to allow of vote by proxy on any question at least not needing further discussion; but if, unhappily, a party spirit had crept into the church, and some active partisan wished to carry his point by canvassing, privately, members too indifferent to the question, or too peaceable to like attending a disputatious church meeting, then the motive and the probable working would nullify all the advantages of what in itself might be reasonable enough.

At the hazard, however, of reiterating advice we have from the earliest period of our labours given in "The Church," we would press upon all our churches, that government by majorities is anti-christian. Not, of course, that settling mere matters of detail is so;-how the pews shall be arranged, where a window-blind shall be put up, what time a service or meeting shall be held, what individuals shall perform some particular mission,-such things are most fitting points for majorities to settle (if indeed they cannot be left to deacons), and minorities are factious indeed if they have the least feeling on the subject. But in matters which affect the entire character and working of the church,-in the choice of a pastor for instance, the incurring of any heavy pecuniary responsibilities, in some cases in the choice of a deacon, in important steps by which the church is committed to any particular conduct in relation to the world or to other churches,in such matters, when conscience or even christian comfort is likely to be deeply affected, it is neither brotherly nor wise for a majority, no, not even a considerable one, to insist on their formal right. We do not approve even of any such rule as threefourths or two-thirds, and so forth, as a determining majority: we hold that christian love cannot be measured by figures. They accord more with "the letter which killeth," than with "the spirit which giveth life."

“Let all your things be done in Love," is the rule which must guide us till the Second Advent of our Lord. It will assuredly do so ever after. Now, love it is not, when either majorities or individuals press to a brother's great discomfort, or perhaps to the violation of his conscience, a right which they could sinlessly waive.

Take a common case. There are in a church, which needs a pastor, a few wealthier

persons of better education and of more cultivated manners than the majority. The power of contribution lies with the minority, that of numbers with the majority. Two preachers come before them;-one very intellectual, and otherwise an excellent and pleasing man; he suits the minority exactly; but the majority really cannot easily enter into his habits of thinking, and are not benefited and instructed;-another, equally excellent, of homelier manners perhaps, desirous to do good, preaching plain, useful sermons, but perhaps with hardly an idea in them new or fresh to the more cultivated class, yet, on account of his zeal, he is a favourite with the majority, while the minority, though esteeming the man, are listless hearers. What should be done? We reply, nothing. Granting both men to be the best of christians, and both admirably adapted to some church, neither are adapted to this particular church. Neither party in the church, and neither of the ministers, should wish to make a settlement unsuitable to an important part of the church. They should conclude that the Lord had not yet shewed them the "man after his heart" for them. There are many preachers, all should aim to be such, who can interest both classes,-whose intellectual efforts do not extinguish their zeal, and lessen their delight in the heart-touching truths of the gospel, and whose ardour to do good does not hinder them from "leaving the first principles of the oracles of God, and going on to perfection."

The president of any church for the time being, whether minister or deacon, should continually remind church meetings of the distinctive character of their assemblies, namely, that christian love may not be violated. It is no excuse whatever that members may be "strictly in order," "adhere to the rules," &c. No member, no meeting, no president, is in order, if all are not watchful to preserve the kindly feeling which it is the very object of our Lord to generate and maintain in his people, in his churches, and, through them, eventually, in the whole world. As we have remarked before, we think whoever presides should dissolve or obtain an adjournment of any meeting, again and again (of course himself doing all things in the spirit of love), in which it seems hopeless to bring the great body of the members to a thoroughly christian feeling. Business rightly settled for the form of it, would be most injuriously