sician attending my dear aged mother, to tell me that any attempt to reach her sick bed before the departure of the spirit to another world, he thinks, would be unavailing; and you will then admit that I am walking in the shade. I would not willingly thus intrude upon you the recital of my sorrows, did I not think it necessary to do so by way of apology.

"There! now I know that you have forgiven me, and will not forget me at His footstool whose mercy endureth forever.' Believe me to be, my very excellent friend, your's in Christian affection."

6

This mysterious visitation made his dwelling for some time desolate, and bowed down his spirit. At nightfall he has stood opposite an asylum for the mentally afflicted, with an agonizing heart, looking up at the flickering lights, and anticipating the possibility that his beloved daughter might one day become an inmate of some such home. Painful as were these seasons, he rather sought than avoided them. It was his fervent desire that, whatever should be the will of God, he might patiently and uncomplainingly submit to his righteous decrees. The anticipated grief he was spared, for it pleased the Father of mercies to take to himself the afflicted daughter, and to comfort his heart with the strong confidence that she was removed to the world of light and love. His own lines express the submis sion of his spirit at this time:

True faith, inspired by God above,

Who rules and reigns, whose name is Love,
Will tranquillize the suffering soul

When waves of earthly trouble roll,

And give the heart, with care oppress'd,
Assurance of eternal rest.

Previous to the daughter's affliction, the most confiding intercourse was encouraged by the tenderhearted father, more especially in reference to her immortal welfare. A letter from the parent, in answer to one written by his child, will exhibit the free and affectionate communications that were interchanged:

"June 9, 1837.

"MY VERY DEAR ELIZA:-If any circumstance were wanted to prove how little time I have at my disposal, my sending this short note in reply to your extraordinary letter would put the matter beyond doubt. Such a letter deserves a long and a weighty reply, for it is both long and weighty in itself. I read it, as your remark on its envelope directed me, when I was most at leisure. I read it with much care, with much feeling, with much affection, and with much thankfulness; and whatever your future thoughts, words, and deeds, may be, the very circumstance of your having conceived and written. such a letter will ever be to me a strong consolation. Your making my poor expression, 'Much as I desire you to be intellectual, I would rather a thousand

times over that you should be pious than poetical,'— your making my poor expression the target at which, with such an unerring aim, you shoot your arrows, weighs not with me a feather. Spare me not, till I cry for quarter. I read your remarks with increasing emotion, and struggled manfully, (and I can struggle hard in such a case;) but when I came to that crowning crisis of your observations, 'I will not compromise with the highest attainment under heaven, the brightest wreath of laurels that ever graced mortal brow, for so much as one of my Saviour's smiles,' it brought me upon my knees, and wrung from me the prayer which is now written in pencil on the margin of your letter-May God, of his mercy and great compassion, knowing the unstableness of his creature's affections, strengthen this glorious resolution in thy soul.' I do, my Eliza, highly prize your letter-more highly than any thing and every thing you have yet written. I think it is one of the most talented as well as the most important productions of your pen; it has a glowing and glorious energy, sanctified by the hallowed object and end it has in view.

"But though I thus speak, and though I would not willingly wither the freshness nor weaken the energy of your Christian affections, I must try to guard you against undervaluing the sincerity of those who, professing the same belief as yourself, do not manifest the same ardour. Like you, in my

youthful days, did I withdraw myself from every eye, save that of the Eternal, and many an aspiration has been poured at his mercy-seat, as fervent and as I have felt that all the world

sincere as your own. could offer was dust too despicable for an heir of heaven to condescend to accept,' when compared with the white robe' and the glittering crown' reserved for the faithful followers of the Redeemer; but these aspirations, ardent and sincere as they were, could not always be sustained. Few and far between were those sunny seasons of the soul's rejoicing; and so will it be with you. These fresh, fervid feelings of your's will pass away; nay, I doubt not, have already passed away; and though they will come again, again they will retire. Moses was forty days in the mount three times, but he was forty years in the wilderness.

"The veteran warrior smiles at the ardour of the youthful volunteer: he admires his courage his disinterestedness—his patriotism. Thus was it with me,' says he; but, in the midst of my ardour and my enterprise, I fell into the hidden ambush of the enemy, and since then, though I admire courage and ardour, I have been backward to blame such soldiers as appear less energetic than the volunteer.'

"My dear girl, so long as we are what we are, the perishing bits and drops of this temporal being will, at times, take precedence of the bread of

heaven and things that are eternal; but this is no proof that we do not believe in eternal things; neither is it a proof, when a creature of infirmity and inconsistency speaks calmly of religion, that he does not in his heart and soul believe the Bible.

"May religion grow in your soul rather than in your professions. I would rather have you a retiring Christian, than hear your religious course extolled by a thousand tongues. Let humility, and sincerity, and forbearance, and charity, go hand-inhand together. It would afflict me to hear only that you were an extraordinary pious young woman, though it would comfort me to know that this was the case. I hardly know whether, from these poor remarks, you will make out the meaning of, my dear girl,

"Your affectionate friend and father."

In social intercourse the wisdom and kindness of Old Humphrey were seen to much advantage. His gentlemanly and agreeable deportment, his delicate consideration for the feelings and sentiments of others, and his general intelligence, secured for him a welcome in every circle where he was known. When on a visit in town or country, he soon became a favourite with the young. They were readily won over to his side from the kindly notice he took of