work, of instructing their infant offspring; perhaps to warn and to prepare some of them for a stroke similar to that under which I am now suffering.

The beloved child who has been just removed from us, was from his infancy remarkable for his health, sprightliness, and intelligence; and from the age of six months, till his last fatal illness, was a source of almost unmixed delight to his fond parents. The beauty and strength of his mind and body seemed to increase in exact proportion, till he had completed his fourth year; from which period I date a considerable advance in his intellectul faculties, which daily rendered him a more intelligent and interesting companion. The progress he had made in reading was so great, that he could at all times amuse himself with a book; and it was evident that he was never satisfied with reading any thing which he did not in some measure comprehend. His sensible remarks and questions were a source of constant pleasure to us, and of delightful hope. He had learnt, with peculiar facility and cheerfulness, nearly the whole of Dr. Watts's beautiful Hymns for Children, and the two first of his Catechisms; which he used to repeat with an ease and understanding far beyond his years. But how shall I paint the opening races of his disposition, which continually surprised and delighted us, and which endeared him to us in so indescribable a manner? Alas! we were not aware how much too fondly we loved him, nor how apt we were to indulge a secret pride, as if we had made him what he was. But, indeed, I know not any thing which could have been desired to increase his loveliness, except that he was, no doubt, capable of knowing and loving God more; had we more diligently instructed him, and more earnestly besought for him the influ ence of divine grace. I bless God, however, that before, and particularly during his last illness, he gave many tokens, that our instructions had not been in vain, and that his heart was not unimpressed by that heavenly influence. Of these I shall give a few specimens, when I have mentioned two or three particulars relative to his disposition and temper. To his great strength and vivacity of spirits was united a remarkable docility; so that during the last year and a half of his short life, we had very rarely occasion to correct him. And he had so firm a conviction of our love for him at all times, that he was easily persuaded to relinquish any pleasure which we assured him was not good for him, or to do any thing, however disagreeable, which we assured him

was needful. Of this disposition he gave a most striking and continued proof by the manner in which he took his medicines twice or three times a day during more than two months, always replying, when told that they were to do him good, "Yes, mamma, I know they are" or when he was told how gladly she would take them for him, Yes, dear mamma, I know you would." Oh! could we more perfectly have imitated him in this disposition towards our all-wise and tender Parent, we should not have found it so hard to drink the bitter cap he put into our hands.

WAS

During his long illness, his patience wi 80 exemplary, affecting, and extraordinary, that we often found it difficult to suppress out tears. Under his daily increasing weakness, during twenty-two days in which he was confined to his bed; when, in addition to all his medicines, he was repeatedly bled with leeches, and blistered, and was latterly oblig ed to submit to other disagreeable external applications, besides suffering much, sometimes very acute paiu ; not one of those who attended him ever heard him utter a fretful or impatient word. He seemed at the same time to derive real pleasure when we often reminded him that God loved patient, good children, and that we thanked God for having made him so patient. Surely, this gentle, submissive temper, was the work of the blessed Spirit of God. It was remarkable too, that in so long an illness (particu larly after the time in which he seemed to be recovering, and had begun to take pleasure in going ont, and in playing with his little brother again, to whom he was always uncom monly gentle and kin3), he never expressed any regret at his confinement, or wish to recover and resume his former amusements. A letter which he dictated to his uncle B.... was striking in this view: After desiring his aunt M. to say, he hoped he was well, he added, but “I am worse.” Then recollecting himself, he said, "but sometimes I am hetter-when was I most better, aunt?—" M. When you were able to go out and play in the field."-H. "Theu say, once I was able to go out, and walk, and ride in a little chaise, and play at cricket, but now I cannot."-But be added not a word expressive of any desire to be able to return to these pleasures.

His gratitude for every thing that was done for him was very observable, particularly to his dear aunt M——, whose tenderness to him, during the whole of his long confinement, can never be effaced from our memory. One day it so struck him, that he told her she should be called “ Aunt kind.”

It is a great pleasure to us to reflect, that

as long as he was able to amuse himself at all, the things which most constantly pleased him, were his books, particularly his hymns, in which he always took peculiar delight, having never learned them as a task, so much as a pleasing employment. He was well acquainted with the Scripture history, having read a good abridgment of it quite through twice: the very last lesson he read was the account of the crucifixion and death of our blessed Saviour in whom, I fully believe, he had more real faith and trust than he was able to express. Of this, as well as of his generally pious disposition, I shall proceed to give a few short, but as I think, satisfactory proofs. They occurred in little conversations which took place between our beloved child, and two or three of his nearest relatives. I give the following, as nearly as possible, in the very words which passed.

Let it only be remembered that the child of whom what precedes and follows is here recorded, was not quite five years and a half old. Yet let no one despise the simplicity of his remarks and declarations. “The eternal God does not disdain to hear an infant sing;" and even out of the mouths of babes and sucklings can perfect his praise.

The conversations to which I refer were of this kind :-M." Does little H. know who gives him medicine to make him well, while many children are ill a long time for want of

it-H. "Yes, aunt M. God sends it me, and he gives me a kind aunt too."-M. " Do you love God for being so good to you?"— H. "Yes, indeed I do."-M. " Do you think you should like to be with him?"--H. “Yes, I should, aunt M.”—M. “Dear little H. will you let me say my prayers now?" (his kind attendant slept in the same room with him.)— H. "Yes, I like you to say your prayers.”— M. "I ought to do it, dear, for God is very kind to me."-H. Yes, I know you ought, and I love you to read your chapter too."

Our dear boy was accustomed to dictate some of his hymns to those who were with him, requesting them to write or print them in Roman capitals. Sometimes when well enough he did this himself, and called what was thus written by himself or others, his sermons-When his aunt was one day writing for him Dr. Watts's hymn, beginning,

"Blest be the wisdom and the power,
The justice and the grace,
Which join' in counsel to restore,

And save our ruin'd race!"

As he was repeating the former verses, he said in a mournful tone," there is something so affecting coming"-not remembering the hymn, his aunt said, "what is it, CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 112.

dearest boy?" he replied, with a voice of feeling which she seems still to hear, as if indeed he felt for the sufferings of his Saviour,

"He bore our sins upon the cross,

And our full ransom paid."

M." Yes, H. that is affecting. Do you know he bore your faults there?"-H. " Yes, aunt M."-M. "You know, my dear boy, we all have many faults, or sins. I have every day, and little H. has some."-H. "Yes, aunt punishment of them for you?"-H."

M. I know I have."-M. "Who bore the "Why, aunt M. Jesus Christ."-M. "And for his sake God is not angry with you, but loves and blesses you. Don't you love your dear Saviour?"--H. "Yes; I think sometimes of all he has done for me; but I cannot think much, now I am ill."-M. « But you always love him?"-H." Indeed I do.”—M. “My sweet boy, do you know why God sends this sickness to you ?”—H. “ Yes, to inake me good."-M." He does not love to make you he would be apt to forget God, and heaven." ill; but if my little jewel were always well.

-H."Yes, aunt M. I know I should."-M. "But now you are sick you can think of heaven, where God lives, and where there is no illness. Should you like to go to that happy place?"-H. "Oh yes, aunt M. I

should like to be there."

When the same kind friend was writing lines, for him another hymn, as he repeated these

"

"And now he reigns above,

He sends his Spirit down,"

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spend a considerable time with "each.individual, that he might speak fully and clearly the words of salvation He instructed the ignorant, supported the weak, 'comforted the feeble-minded, and directed the dying penitent to" the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." He taught his flock not only publiely, but from house to house; nor was his zeal fluctuating or evanescent: never did it shine brighter than in the evening of his days. Nor did his zeal spend itself on the circumstantials of religion, or in promoting some favourite senti. ment; his object was to uphold the interests of pure religion and genuine goodness. The King had not a more loyal subject, nor the Church of England a more zealous friend. The law of kindness dwelt on his tongue, and was inscribed on his heart. He was a living witness that religion has no tendency to spread a gloom through a house. Has he a child that will not rise up and call him blessed? Has be a friend that will not long remember those words of kindness, and those looks of affection, which were the genuine indications of a mind warmed with benignity and love? It was bis affection which won the hearts of so many of his congregation. It was this which caused him to be interred amidst the sighs, and groans, and tears of his numerous people. It was this which softened the severity of reproof, and convinced his hearers that the feelings of the preacher were in unison with those of the Apostle, when he said to the Jews Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they may be saved."

His humility displayed itself conspicuously in his last illness. He was brought to the grave by a protracted and painful disease; but amidst his severest sufferings he was

perfectly resigned to the will of God. As his outward man perished his inward man was renewed. He was full of expressions of gratitude to God for his mercies. He ap peared to keep his eye steadily fixed on his Redeemer, and to have maintained an une shaken confidence in the promises of God. As he awoke out of sleep on a certain morning, he was heard to say, "I am waiting for thy salvation, O Lord. I long to be dissolved and to be with Christ." His faith was tempered with the deepest humility. He acknowledged and bewailed the sinfulness of his nature, and humbled himself in the dust. before the God of heaven. He often said "God be merciful to me a sinner! I have no hope but i.. Jesus Christ. I feel it is an awful thing to die, yet I know whom I have believed, and I shall not be forsaken." This sense of his unworthiness made him value the Saviour of sinners. Whilst life and strength remained he ceased not to exhort, comfort, and edify his chil dren and family. His last lingering words dwelt on the delightful theme which interested his heart. A short time before his death he said to his family, I have a thousand things to say to you; and he then made several efforts to speak, but the powers of utterance failed. He again revived, and poured out his soul in fervent prayer, imploring the blessing of God upon them all and in a few hours expired.

Such was the death of this venerable minis ter of Christ."His soul has taken its flight from these abodes of sin and sorrow. His labours are done. His sufferings are ended. His work is finished. He has entered into rest, and, through the merits of his Redeemer, he has obtained that crown of righteousness: which fadeth not away."

Feb. 25. In Harley-street, Henry Hope, Esq. one of the most eminent merchants of his time. He has left behind him about 1,200,000!

March 14. In his 76th year, his Grace the Duke of Grafton.

At Bala, aged 84, Mrs. Roberts, who resided 45 years on a small farm in great distress, and for nine years received relief from

the parish. But having, with the aid of some friends, instituted a suit in Chancery against the executors of a person to whom she was next of kin, she obtained, about six months ago, a decree, which put her in pos'session of 150,000l.

April 6. At Windsor, Hugh Elliott Pearson, eldest son of the Rev. Hugh Pearson, aged about five years and a half.