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Her breathing soft and low,
So silently we seemed to speak,
So slowly moved about,
To eke her living out.
Our fears our hopes belied ;
And sleeping when she died.
And chill with early showers,
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," I 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 1 “ No," she said, “never having been used to it, they do not look for it no 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 garde asked if they might not be off for school."No," she said, “wait a quart of an hour.” And then she added to me, “if they are a quarter of hour too soon they might get playing, and then some mischief mig arise." Mothers, do these seem little things, scarcely worth relatin Depend on it, these little every-day occurrences are what so influer children ; it is not the hasty blow, or, perhaps, not so much the solei lecture,-children are angry at the one, and too often tired of the oth it is the every day thought, the firm and gentle bearing, that will influei your boy. But my poor friend was soon called away from her moth task ; the last advice was given, the last tears flowed at the thou of leaving them orphans; and trusting in Christ, the blessed Redeemer, loving mother sank to rest. Her boys found a home at their gra mother's, and, I believe, retained an excellent character ; the last tim saw the eldest, he was hastening to put a letter into the post, and ca 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 poor friend ? Will any mother strive to follow her example ? Mothei treasure beyond all price was given when your infant was laid in y arms; a body most wonderfully formed by Almighty God; a soul, to after the stars have fallen from their places; and you are the one influence this infant. Oh! let me entreat you to pray every day for g to perform your momentous duties.
ROWLAND HILL, SKETCHED BY THE LATE W. JA
R. HILL'S BENEVOLENCE. But too much cannot be said of his benevolence and beneficence. derness and kindness seemed inherent in his very nature ; and they nourished and strengthened by the spirit of the religion which h eminently possessed. He did good to his beast, and his feeling for beast sometimes showed itself in ways which many would be al ready to ridicule, but it bespoke the sensibility of his disposition. * not only did the enthusiast and fanatic (as some persons supposed to be) regard the souls of men, but their bodies and outward e Hence his frequent collections for the poor, and his visiting their sheds, and teaching them arts and habits of economy. Hence he tenements for the indigent of Wotton, and almshouses for widows in don. Hence he even learned vaccination, and always carried lymph him, and performed upon hundreds, if not thousands, in the town: villages he visited in preaching.
CURIOUS INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF R. HILL. A forward and conceited young man calling upon him at my l asked him if he had heard that he was going to change his sentir “No, sir !” said Mr. Hill, “I have not ; but if you have not fixe
* Thus he had what he called, a frogery and toadery at the bottom of chard, where he said, the poor creatures could marry, and be given in ma 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 persous should not be righteous overinuch, and should be careful to avoid extremes in religion. “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 mediuin." 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.
R. HILI., 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."
B, 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 secul affairs, not appointed by the State, chosen by his brethren for his age, tale and piety, and residing in the midst of his diocese ; and he did at fi submit to the state of things in the establishment, as they are partiallysay partially, for he only received deacon's orders, not accepting those priest, on the condition alone by which he could obtain them: viz. rez larity; and so, as his drollery expressed it, he ran off with only one bi on ; nor was he an enemy to some State provision for the instruction of people. But from conviction, he preferred Presbyterianism. I cannot mistaken here, from my intimacy and conversations with him on the v subject. At my last interview with him, a very few weeks only before death; he unexpectedly said, " Ah, Mr.Jay, Presbyterianism comes m nearer the congenial and Scriptural model than your Independency, or Episcopacy"; and stroking his face in his usual way, added, “You kı this was always my sentiment." The last time he preached at B he spent the evening with a large party, before whom he explicitly m the same acknowledgment. It was hence he so much liked the Calvi tical Methodists, as their plans and measures (though not in name) appr mated to the system he most approved.
ROWLAND STILL ! I was one day walking with him through Bath ; in the market-place met an eminent clergyman whom he much respected, and with whon could be familiar, having been at college with him. He had for some w been in the city, where as to his not having preached in any of churches, there existed no surprise ; but Mr. Hill thought it became to countenance his own creed wherever he was, by his practice. therefore began instantly: " Ah, Mr. — this will never do. You ! the value of the Gospel; you have published not only in favour truth, but of its all-importance. You have contended that God only testimony to the word of his grace; and have said that those who pi any other doctrine, are betrayers and destroyers of souls, condemning as worse than Robespierre, who only murdered men's bodies, while destroyed their souls.” The divine began to explain and defend ; “] said Mr. Hill,“My dear brother, I may take you upon your own gr and argue with you on your principles and professions. How can with your avowed sentiments, turn your back upon the Gospel whe is preached, and go where you acknowledge it is not preached ; or too a great difference between things essential, and not essenti religion; and that our preferences in subordinate matters shouli amount to exclusions ? What is the chaff to the wheat ? I contend always and wherever we are, we ought to show our regard to the tri it is in Jesus ; and that this cannot be done by indifferent and indisi nate attendance. Here you admonish people to abide where the praying and waiting, till the Gospel comes there, without any promise it will come, or whether it will come at all unto their particular cl unless in the latter day glory; while in the mean time, they are hi words which cause them to err, and are in danger of perishing for w knowledge. Can you believe that one would do this who deter to know nothing, save Jesus Christ and him crucified; and suffered t] of all things for the excellence of “the knowledge of Christ Jes Lord ?” “Dear Rowland,” said his friend “I see you are Rowland “ Yes," said his reprover, and I hope I shall never change or skulk e the end. You say I go too far, you know in doctrine you go as far as but I see you have met with Nicodemus, and the fear of men br a suare." Mr. - was now glad to turn the conversation, and to the grand victory of Trafalgar, which had just been achieved. “
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 dowu 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