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and when Sir Henry saw him he asked at once how long he had to live. When the doctor answered, “ about three days,” he expressed astonishment that so long a term had been granted to him, and seemed to think that he should pass away before the end of it. As shot and shell were continually striking against the Residency, Dr. Fayrer caused the wounded man to be removed to his own house, which was more sheltered from the enemy's artillery, and there a consultation of medical officers was held, and it was determined that to attempt amputation would be only to increase suffering and to shorten life.

Then Henry Lawrence prepared himself for death. First of all, he asked Mr. Harris, the chaplain, to administer the Holy

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Communion to him. In the open verandah, exposed to a heavy fire of musketry, the solemn service was performed, many officers of the garrison tearfully communicating with their beloved chief. This done, he addressed himself to those about him. “He bade an affectionate farewell to all," wrote one who was present at this sad and solemn meeting, “and of several he asked forgiveness for having at times spoken harshly, and begged them to kiss him. One or two were quite young boys, with whom he had occasion to find fault, in the course of duty, a few days previously. He expressed the deepest humility and repentance for his sins, and his firm trust in our blessed Saviour's atonement, and spoke most

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touchingly of his dear wife, whom he hoped to rejoin. At the utterance of her name, his feelings quite overcame him, and he burst into an uncontrollable fit of weeping, which lasted some minutes. He again completely broke down in speaking of his daughter, to whom he sent his love and blessing. Then he blessed his nephew George, who was kneeling by his bedside, and told him he had always loved him

He spoke to several present about the state of their souls, urging them to pray and read their Bibles, and endeavour to prepare for death, which might come suddenly, as in his own case. To nearly each person present he addressed a few parting words of affectionate advice-words which must have sunk deeply into all hearts. There was not a dry eye there, and many seemingly hard rough men were sobbing like children."

And ever mingling, in these last hours, with the kindly and affectionate feelings of the man were the sterner thoughts of the leader. Passing away, as he was, from the scene, he had to make new arrangements for the future defence of the beleaguered garrison. He knew what was his duty, and though it pained him to set aside one who believed that he had the best right to succeed him in his civil duties, he chose his successor wisely. Then he urged upon the officer whom he had chosen, and all present, the imperative necessity of holding out to the very last, and of never making terms with the enemy. every man,” he said, “die at his post; but never make terms. God help the poor women and children.” He often repeated these last words. His heart was very heavy with the thought of these helpless little ones, not knowing what dreadful lot might be in store for them.

He gave many sorrowing thoughts, also, to his foster-children in the Lawrence Asylum; and when he was not capable of uttering many words, from time to time he said, alternately with his prayers for the women and children,- 26. Remember the Asylum, do not let them forget the Asylum.” He told the chaplain that he wished to be buried very privately, “without any fuss,” in the same grave with any men of the garrison who might die about the same time. Then he said, speaking rather to himself than to those about him, of his epitaph—" Here lies Henry Lawrence who tried to do his duty.I should like, too, a text,” he added, " . To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against Him.' It was on my dear wife's tomb,”

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He lingered till the beginning of the second day, after he was stricken down, suffering occasionally acute paroxysms of pain, but having many blessed intervals of rest; and at last passed away very tranquilly, “ like a little child falling asleep,” about eight o'clock A.m. on the 4th of July, 1857.

NOTE.- Henry Montgomery Lawrence was greatest skill and bravery, but was the son of an Indian officer, and was struck down, as here told. Henry Lawborn in Ceylon, in 1806. He was of rence was a man of the finest intellect, Irish extraction. In 1821 he entered an able statesman, a fine writer, a great the service of the East India Company, administrator. As a soldier he was all and soon gained a great reputation for that was noble and brave. As a man, zeal and ability. He afterwards held his dying hours speak for him.

The various eminent posts. When the mutiny Asylum referred to was an institution broke out in India, in 1857, he was founded and very liberally helped by Resident in Oude, that is, really, king him-for the Children of Soldiers. John, of that province, under the Governor. Lord Lawrence, late Governor-General of General. When the Sepoys besieged India and first chairman of the London the Residency, he defended it with the School Board, is the brother of Sir Henry.

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HYMN TO THE SEA.--Dean Alford. The Rev. Henry Alford, D.D., was born in 1810, and after various promotions became Dean of Canterbury, in 1857. He is best known by his edition of the Greek testament, 1841-1861; but he was not only a scholar,—his poems are of very great merit. He was also a copious writer in general literature. He died in 1870, lamented not only for his genius and culture, but, no less, for his public and private worth.

Who shall declare the secret of thy birth,
Thou old companion of the circling earth ?
And having reached with keen poetic sight

Ere beast or happy bird

Through the vast silence stirred,
Roll back the folded darkness of the primal night?

L

Corruption-like, thou teemedst in the graves
Of mouldering systems, with dark weltering waves
Troubling the peace of the first mother's womb;

Whose ancient awful form,

With inly-tossing storm,
Unquiet heavings kept—a birth-place and a tomb.
Till the life-giving Spirit moved above
The face of the waters, with creative love
Warming the hidden seeds of infant light:

What time the mighty word

Through thine abyss was heard, And swam from out thy deeps the young day heavenly bright. Thou and the earth, twin-sisters, as they say, In tho old prime were fashioned in one day ; And therefore thou delightest evermore

With her to lie and play

The summer hours away,
Curling thy loving ripples up her quiet shore.
She is a married matron long ago,
With nations at her side; her milk doth flow
Each year: but thee no husband dares to tame;

Thy wild will is thine own,

Thy sole and virgin throne;
Thy mood is ever changing—thy resolve the same.
Sunlight and moonlight minister to thee;
O'er the broad circle of the shoreless sea
Heaven's two great lights for ever set and rise :

While the round vault above,

In vast and silent love,
Is gazing down upon thee with his hundred eyes.
All night thou utterest forth thy solemn moan,
Counting the weary minutes all alone :
Then in the morning thou dost calmly lie,

Deep-blue, ere yet the sun

His day-work hath begun,
Under the opening windows of the golden sky.
The Spirit of the mountain looks on thee
Over an hundred hills; quaint shadows flee
Across thy marbled mirror; brooding lie

Storm-mists of infant cloud,

With a sight-baffling shroud
Mantling the gray-blue islands in the western sky.

Sometimes thou liftest up thine hands on high
Into the tempest-cloud that blurs the sky,
Holding rough dalliance with the fitful blast,

Whose stiff breath, whistling shrill,

Pierces with deadly chill
The wet crew, feebly clinging to their shatteerd mast.
Foam-white along the border of the shore
Thine onward-leaping billows plunge and roar;
While o'er the pebbly ridges slowly glide

Cloaked figures, dim and gray,

Through the thick mist of spray,
Watchers for some struck vessel in the boiling tide.
Daughter and darling of remotest eld,
Time's childhood and Time's age thou hast beheld;
His arm is feeble, and his eye is dim:

He tells old tales again,

He wearies of long pain :-
Thou art as at the first: thou journeyedst not with him.

A FABLE.—W. M. Thackeray. William Makepeace Thackeray, one of the greatest English novelists, was born at Calcutta, in 1811.. He was the son of a gentleman in the Civil Service of the East India Company. Brought to England in his childhood, he was educated at the Charter House School and at Cambridge, where he was the fellow student of Tennyson. His writings are marked by an exquisite purity of style, which is the fit mirror of their purity of thought and language. His wit, humour, truth to nature, wisdom, love of what is noble, and scorn of the reverse, are only some of his charms. His novels include “Esmond,” “ The Virginians," " Vanity Fair,” “The Newcomes," from which this extract is taken, &c. He died suddenly, in bed, during the night of the 24th December, 1863. A CROW, who had flown away with a cheese from a dairywindow, sate perched on a tree looking down at a great big frog in a pool underneath him. The frog's hideous large eyes were goggling out of his head in a manner which appeared quite ridiculous to the old black-a-moor, who watched the splay-footed slimy wretch with that peculiar grim humour belonging to crows. Not far from the frog a fat ox was browsing; whilst a few lambs frisked about the meadow, or nibbled the grass and buttercups there.

Who should come in to the farther end of the field but a

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