tage, and soon after our arrival we had the melancholy pleasure of seeing him brought home on a hurdle, followed by his mourning widow, and weeping children-his faithful dog walking beside the bier. He was found in a pit, and his dog was sitting on the edge of it, moaning the fate of his master, whom he was unwilling to leave, though nearly perishing with hunger and cold. When the body was brought into the house, the spectacle of grief which was then exhibited became almost too much for us to endure. His wife wiped off the snow which was still hanging about his face and hair, and then kissed his cold, black lips, bedewing them with her tears, while the children pressed around her, sobbing as they looked on the altered countenance of their father, and then turned away to mourn apart. Mr. Roscoe spoke kindly to her, which soothed her spirit, and assured her that she should not want. “I know it, Sir," she replied, "because the Lord is my Shepherd, and he can spread a table for me, though my husband is not spared to bring me the provisions." then informed her, that a subscription would be raised for her support, which he had no doubt would be sufficient to enable her to bring up her family in honest repute. "Oh! Sir," said the two eldest boys, "mother shall never want while God gives us strength to work, nor shall the little ones." "Don't cry, Mother!" said the youngest girl, who had just drawn back her finger from touching the face of her father, "father is gone to see Jemima. Don't cry, Mother! for that won't make Father speak to us again." He He was buried with great decency and solemnity, by Mr. Ingleby, the seventh day after his decease; and such was the esteem in which he was held, and the degree of interest his death had excited, that many followed his remains to the grave, and expressed the most tender sympathy towards his surviving family. By the exertions of Messrs. Roscoe and Stevens, a large subscription was raised for their support; which in some measure abated the intensity of their sufferings, though it could not heal the deep wound which had been inflicted on their domestic happiness. [No. 83. ill SA S THE THE 296 00- bu bem a ne vor 2 and 3/99% to Rs. EVANGELICAL RAMBLER. "He was now suddenly seized for death, and having pressed most tenderly the hand of his aged mother, and given the last expression of conjugal love to his wife, he reclined his head on her bosom and fainted. On recovering from this fit, which lasted several minutes, he once more opened his eyes, aud casting a mournful look on those around him, he said, I die an unworthy, and a guilty sinner at the foot of the cross, and ǝb sit ba Will he e'er permit, Joy A soul that fain would see his face teomodo perish at his feet?' n PRINTED FOR FRANCIS WESTLEY, 10, STATIONERS' COURT, AND AVE-MARIA LANE. "Who can unlock the prison of despair, LAWSON'S Orient-Harping. As Mrs. Beaufoy sat alone one winter's evening musing on the scenes and occurrences of her past life, bewailing the death of her parents whose memory she blest, and the unhappy state of her husband's mind, she unconsciously drew from her pocket a letter, and on opening it, found that it was the last which came from his mother. Though she read it the day it arrived, yet curiosity inclined her to read it again. "Cruel charge! A snare to my husband! the cause of his being led astray into the paths of evil! cruel charge! Is it not enough for me to bear his unkindness, without having to endure such reproaches? She threw the letter from her and rose to cast off the load of sorrow which bowed down her spirit. "I cannot endure it. I am of all women the most miserable. I have no one to share -66 my grief. Oh death!-no!-I am not prepared to die!" She resumed her seat, and though the letter possessed a sting sharper than that of a scorpion, she took it, and again it wounded her. "If she had feared the Lord she would have kept you from evil.” Cruel charge! I have tried to keep him, but he has burst from me, as a maniac snaps asunder the cords of his captivity-and rushed to evil." "But I understand she does not, and if that be true, I don't wonder that you have been led astray." She paused—she sighed-but she could not weep. "Woe is me ! وو The ringing of the bell announced the return of Mr. Beaufoy, rather earlier than usual, but his dark, lowering look bespoke some inward conflict. On taking his seat his eye caught sight of the letter, which lay near the place where he threw it some months before E 66 and moving back, he said, "Have you been reading it?” 66 Yes, my Henry, I have." "And what do you think of the charges?" "They are cruel." Rather say, they are severe, but just." "You know that I have often attempted to reclaim you." "But did you not first lead me astray? Till I knew you I was a happy, because a religious man; but from that ill-fated hour, when enticed by your influence and example to abandon the house of prayer for the convivial party, I have been an exile from mental peace. I have forsaken God, and he, in anger, has forsaken me." But why recriminate on me the guilt of your own sin? You have withdrawn from me your love and your society, and will you now in exchange give me your reproaches? If we have sinned together, and provoked the Lord to anger, let us now kneel together before his mercy-seat, together let us confess our sins, and implore his forgiveness." "You may pray and obtain mercy, but I cannot; no, I cannot.” "He waits to be gracious." "Yes to the penitent, but my heart is too hard to feel the contrition of sorrow." "But is not the Redeemer exalted to give repentance?" "To you he will give it, but not to me. I have fallen away, and incensed justice renders it impossible to renew me again to repentance, for I have crucified the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.” "But justice relents when a sinner prays, and mercy"— "Oh! speak not of mercy!" "But mercy rejoiceth over judgment." "Yes, and mercy when insulted and despised gives to justice a keener edge. Let us change the theme. I am too full of agony to dwell on it. It awakens recollections I wish to forget. It is like handling the deadly weapon with which a friend has been murdered. It reminds me of my doom." Speak not, my Henry, of your doom!" "I must. Weep not for "I cannot refrain."Tears are useless." so, my Henry, the blood of Christ which cleanseth from all sin." But I have counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing." 66 But he is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him; and have you sinned beyond his recovering grace?" "I know my doom." me." 66 66 "Not It is not always in our power to ascertain the precise moment when the Divine Spirit begins the good work 66 in the heart, nor yet to say what specific means he employs to effect it, but sometimes an unpremeditated effort to convey instruction or consolation to another, is made to re-act on the mind of the speaker to produce the great change. Thus it was in the experience of Mrs. Beaufoy. She felt the force of her own remarks, and when meditating on them at a subsequent period, she could not but yield to their influence. The charge brought against her, of having led her husband astray, on cool reflection, she admitted to be just. But what an admission! not merely accessary to his apostacy, but the primary cause of it-not merely a partaker of his guilt, but the means of its accumulation. Her sin, which had been concealed from her, now started up in all its aggravated form and appalling aspect. Yes, 'tis true; if I had feared the Lord, I might have kept him from going astray, and we might have been walking in his commandments and ordinances blameless. I enticed him from the paths of righteousness, and into what an abyss of misery are we both plunged! I remember the night when I first induced him to leave the house of prayer to accompany me to the theatre, and the anguish of his spirit after his return. I then told him that he would not injure his principles by yielding sometimes to the customs of the world, but alas, I was deceived! I alone am to blame, and if I could suffer alone, I would patiently endure all the anguish! But alas! I have raised the storm which has long since laid waste all our domestic felicity, and is now threatening a deluge of wrath! Where, oh where can we take refuge from the impending evil!" As she was thus bemoaning her unhappy state, she thought of her long-neglected Bible, and taking it from the book-case, she pressed it to her lips and prayed for grace to understand and feel its instructive and consolatory truths. On turning over its hallowed pages, her eye caught the following passage, which in a few moments allayed the agitation of her mind. And a man shall be as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place; as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. But as there are |