THE DEATH-BED.

We watched her breathing through the night,
Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,
So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears-
Our fears our hopes belied;

We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came, dim and sad,

And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids closed; she had

Another morn than ours!

THE WIDOW AND HER SONS; OR, WHERE ARE THE BOYS?

"Aye, where are they, indeed! I fancy some poor mother answering, "Gone out, there's no keeping them in." A reasonable thing it seems to be, that boys, after they have been to school, as perhaps yours have, should go out to play. But then, I would ask, "With whom are they?" Their first lesson at school, perhaps, was, "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain," and what is the lesson they are learning now? May they not be at this moment with evil companions, who, by their example, are teaching them to swear, aye, and teaching them the dreadful curse, so common but so awful? "Well," I fancy the well-meaning mother saying, "but what can I do? I do not like it, but how can I prevent it?" It is indeed, a difficult question, but my own mind refers to one, who did keep her boys from joining any bad acquaintances, and when I think of her, her gentle manners, her bodily weakness, I fancy that other mothers could do as she did; aye, and so they could, with her powerful motives, for she loved her children with an ardent love, and she was very much afraid of sin; she looked upon it as a deadly plague. But let me give my few remembrances of poor A. H.

When I first saw her, she was a happy wife and mother, and lived in a pleasant cottage surrounded by a garden with bright flowers. Some years passed away without further intercourse, and one day, while walking in another part of the village, I met and scarcely recognised, in the altered and faded form, clad in widow's weeds, my former acquaintance. She had left her happy home, and after many attempts (defeated by failing health) to gain a livelihood, had taken a small room at the other end of the village; and there I became better acquainted with her, visited her often, and watched the gentle, patient sufferer fade away from earth, so calm, so humble, and oh! such a loving mother to her two boys.

Weak as she was, a word from her was enough. "From children," she would say, "I made them obey me, and now, for boys, they are really very good. Only this morning," she added, "Herbert, finding how ill I was, thoughtfully asked me if I could not take a cup of tea; and got up, though it was quite dark, and made it for me. You should have seen him, too, when he had been working in your garden, how delighted he was to bring in his first earnings-he thought he could not run fast enough." "But,” Ĭ said one day, when she was talking of them, "how can you manage to keep

them in; surely they must want to play with the boys in the village? 66 No," ," she said, "never having been used to it, they do not look for it now, a walk together to their grandmother's is the treat they look for."

During one of my visits, the youngest, who was playing in the garden, asked if they might not be off for school. "No," she said, "wait a quarter of an hour." And then she added to me, "if they are a quarter of an hour too soon they might get playing, and then some mischief might arise." Mothers, do these seem little things, scarcely worth relating? Depend on it, these little every-day occurrences are what so influence children; it is not the hasty blow, or, perhaps, not so much the solemn lecture, children are angry at the one, and too often tired of the other; it is the every day thought, the firm and gentle bearing, that will influence your boy. But my poor friend was soon called away from her mother's task; the last advice was given, the last tears flowed at the thought of leaving them orphans; and trusting in Christ, the blessed Redeemer, the loving mother sank to rest. Her boys found a home at their grandmother's, and, I believe, retained an excellent character; the last time I saw the eldest, he was hastening to put a letter into the post, and could scarcely stop to tell me that he was now in a gentleman's service.

And now, what result will spring from my imperfect recollections of my poor friend? Will any mother strive to follow her example? Mother! a treasure beyond all price was given when your infant was laid in your arms; a body most wonderfully formed by Almighty God; a soul, to live after the stars have fallen from their places; and you are the one to influence this infant. Oh! let me entreat you to pray every day for grace to perform your momentous duties.

ROWLAND HILL, SKETCHED BY THE LATE W. JAY, No. 2.

R. HILL'S BENEVOLENCE.

But too much cannot be said of his benevolence and beneficence. Tenderness and kindness seemed inherent in his very nature; and they were nourished and strengthened by the spirit of the religion which he so eminently possessed. He did good to his beast, and his feeling for the beast sometimes showed itself in ways which many would be almost ready to ridicule, but it bespoke the sensibility of his disposition.* And not only did the enthusiast and fanatic (as some persons supposed him to be) regard the souls of men, but their bodies and outward estate. Hence his frequent collections for the poor, and his visiting their lowly sheds, and teaching them arts and habits of economy. Hence he built tenements for the indigent of Wotton, and almshouses for widows in London. Hence he even learned vaccination, and always carried lymph with him, and performed upon hundreds, if not thousands, in the towns and villages he visited in preaching.

CURIOUS INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF R. HILL.

A forward and conceited young man calling upon him at my house, asked him if he had heard that he was going to change his sentiments. "No, sir!" said Mr. Hill, "I have not; but if you have not fixed the

*Thus he had what he called, a frogery and toadery at the bottom of his orchard, where he said, the poor creatures could marry, and be given in marriage, and live an unpersecuted and merry life.

time, I would advise you to do it as near the change of the moon as possible."

A rather talkative woman one day said to him, "I have been a good deal of late with some papists, and they have sadly tempted me to change my religion." Indeed, ma'am !" he replied, "I was not aware until now that you had any religion to change."

I once heard him repeat the Lord's Prayer, and witnessed the great effect produced when he said, "Forgive us our trespasses," by making a considerable pause before he added, as we forgve them that trespass against us," as if he almost feared to utter it, lest he should condemn himself and others."

I remember what an impression he made when preaching for me, by an interjective parenthesis-for when, in reading 1 Thessalonians v., he re peated the verse, "Abstain from all appearance of evil," he lifted up his eyes and said, in a very solemn voice, "Oh the infinite delicacy of the Gospel!"

His brother, Sir Richard, once told me of an early instance of his adroitness, remarking that he was the same from a lad. It occurred while he was at Eton College. Even then he was under deep impressions of a religious nature; and as he felt the importance of divine things himself, he was active and concerned to do good to others; and thus he did with an old female servant that frequently waited upon him. She one day rather reproved him for his zeal, saying, that persons should not be righteous overmuch, and should be careful to avoid extremes in religion. 66 Some," she said, were too cold, and some were too hot." Then," said young Rowland, "I suppose you think we had better be lukewarm." "Yes, she said, "that was a proper medium." He then took up the New Testament and read the Saviour's address to the Church of Laodicea ;-"I would thou wert cold or hot; so then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth;" at which his tepid friend seemed a little surprised and aghast.

66

R. HILL, AN ADEPT AT THE PRACTICE OF VACCINATION.

He was the intimate friend of Dr. Jenner, who introduced vaccination. To this discovery he was an admiring and practical devotee. I was one day with him, when one of the company was speaking rather disrespectfully of this remedy, and said there was nothing more disagreeable and offensive than communicating a disease from a filthy beast to a human being. "A filthy beast, sir? Why, a cow is one of the most agreeable of all animals; everything about her is wholesome and useful. We get odour from her breath; she supplies our tables with meat, and butter, and cream, and cheese; and I assure you, sir, I would rather eat a cow than a Christian."

R. HILL'S METHOD OF WAKENING SLEEPY HEARERS.

I know that once at Wotton, he was preaching in the afternoon, (the only time when it seemed possible to be drowsy under him,) he saw some sleeping, and paused, saying, "I have heard that the miller can sleep while the mill is going, but if it stops it awakens him. I'll try this method;" and so sat down, and soon saw an aroused audience.

R. HILL, NOT A STRICT INDEPENDENT.

It may not be amiss to mention two mistakes, or inadvertencies, which have crept into these valuable pieces of biography. The one regards Mr. Hill's Ecclesiastics. He much disliked strict Independency; but he could not be considered properly as an Episcopalian, in the common or prelatical acceptation of the term. He might not, with many others have objected to such

a bishop as Usher's primus inter pares, having nothing to do with secular affairs, not appointed by the State, chosen by his brethren for his age, talent, and piety, and residing in the midst of his diocese; and he did at first submit to the state of things in the establishment, as they are partially—I say partially, for he only received deacon's orders, not accepting those of priest, on the condition alone by which he could obtain them: viz. regularity; and so, as his drollery expressed it, he ran off with only one boot on; nor was he an enemy to some State provision for the instruction of the people. But from conviction, he preferred Presbyterianism. I cannot be mistaken here, from my intimacy and conversations with him on the very subject. At my last interview with him, a very few weeks only before his death; he unexpectedly said, " Ah, Mr. Jay, Presbyterianism comes much nearer the congenial and Scriptural model than your Independency, or our Episcopacy"; and stroking his face in his usual way, added, "You know this was always my sentiment.” The last time he preached at Bath, spent the evening with a large party, before whom he explicitly made the same acknowledgment. It was hence he so much liked the Calvinistical Methodists, as their plans and measures (though not in name) approximated to the system he most approved.

he

ROWLAND STILL!

He

I was one day walking with him through Bath; in the market-place we met an eminent clergyman whom he much respected, and with whom he could be familiar, having been at college with him. He had for some weeks been in the city, where as to his not having preached in any of the churches, there existed no surprise; but Mr. Hill thought it became him to countenance his own creed wherever he was, by his practice. therefore began instantly: "Ah, Mr. this will never do. You know the value of the Gospel; you have published not only in favour of its truth, but of its all-importance. You have contended that God only gives testimony to the word of his grace; and have said that those who preach any other doctrine, are betrayers and destroyers of souls, condemning them as worse than Robespierre, who only murdered men's bodies, while these destroyed their souls." The divine began to explain and defend; “Nay,” said Mr. Hill," My dear brother, I may take you upon your own ground, and argue with you on your principles and professions. How can you with your avowed sentiments, turn your back upon the Gospel where it is preached, and go where you acknowledge it is not preached; owning too a great difference between things essential, and not essential in religion; and that our preferences in subordinate matters should not amount to exclusions? What is the chaff to the wheat? I contend that always and wherever we are, we ought to show our regard to the truth as it is in Jesus; and that this cannot be done by indifferent and indiscriminate attendance. Here you admonish people to abide where they are praying and waiting, till the Gospel comes there, without any promise when it will come, or whether it will come at all unto their particular church, unless in the latter day glory; while in the mean time, they are hearing words which cause them to err, and are in danger of perishing for want of knowledge. Can you believe that one would do this who determined to know nothing, save Jesus Christ and him crucifled; and suffered the loss of all things for the excellence of "the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord ?" "Dear Rowland," said his friend "I see you are Rowland still." "Yes," said his reprover, "and I hope I shall never change or skulk even to the end. You say I go too far, you know in doctrine you go as far as I go; but I see you have met with Nicodemus, and the fear of men bringeth a suare." Mr. was now glad to turn the conversation, and to notice the grand victory of Trafalgar, which had just been achieved. "Ah!"

said Mr. Hill, "do you not admire the strain of piety in Collingwood's despatches?" I declare I wish that some of our admirals were made bishops, though I could not wish that any of our bishops were made admirals-unless yellow ones."

BIOGRAPHY.

MR. ANTHONY ROBINSON, OF LIVERPOOL.

MR. A. ROBINSON was born at Murton near Appleby, Westmoreland, in September, 1829. Nothing of particular interest is known about his early years; but when about fourteen years old, some teetotal meetings were held in the village, and he became a teetotaller. Being much ridiculed by his companions on this account, to escape their taunts, he accompanied his father to various religious meetings. At that time, revival services were held at Murton, which he attended. One service, however, he omitted. On going the next evening, a boy who sat next to him, told him of some one who had been converted the evening before; he said, "I wonder who will be next; the boy said, "May be thee." The words went to his heart-he could not rest. For three weeks he went in and out, weeping, and scarcely eating food; he was completely weighed down with a sense of his sins. At the end of that period, he was at a meeting, and was enabled to say, "Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief;" immediately his heart was filled with the love of God, and he shouted for joy. It is believed that he never lost his sense of acceptance with God, and he endeavoured by labouring in the Sabbath-school to glorify Him who had done so much for him.

About four and-a-half years since, he removed to Liverpool, where he united himself with the society, and found employment in the Heathstreet, Sunday-school. In the early part of 1854, he was united in marriage to Miss M. A. Drinkwater, also a teacher and member in connexion with the Heath-street Society.

In the course of the year he was attacked with threatening symptoms of pulmonary consumption, he however recovered, but was not long before he experienced a still more severe return of that complalnt. In consequence, he returned to Murton, hoping that a change of air might be of service to him. He however gradually sank.

At first he indulged strong hope of recovery, nor did he abandon it till he was so prostrated as to be confined to his bed.

On one occasion, during his illness, on waking, he asked for all his brothers to be sent up to him, and when they came he said, "I thought I was in the presence of Jesus, when he pointed to six spots in his otherwise white garment, and suddenly it was impressed on my mind these are my six unconverted brethren, I must go back, and warn them once more, and I awoke. Now, my dear brothers, think of this, I cannot talk much, but I should like to meet you all in heaven. Don't, pray don't let me be disappointed, you may soon be as I now am, and then what will support you if you have not God on your side. I have always prayed for you, O! let not those prayers rise in judgment against you."

On another occasion he said, "I have been with Jesus, and bands of angels, and I could not fly at first, but I mended of that, and we had got above the houses, and were soaring away when I awoke; but I am going again soon."

When Mrs. R. asked him what she should read to him, he always said, "The Testament." "Let me have the words as they came from our blessed Lord's lips." The accounts of the crucifixion in the Gospels, the