and very shortly after this, Edward Williams, whose health had been rapidly declining, was summoned from works to rewards. He had been a faithful labourer in the Lord's vineyard, and his removal in the prime of life was deeply felt in the mission field. Previous to his death he had committed Cupido to the care of James Barkhouse, who had undertaken to raise the funds necessary for his education. The poor boy greatly felt the loss of his early friend, but he steadily pursued his studies, and became a general favourite in the school.

In the spring of 1845, he had an attack of hemorrhage from the lungs; and from this time his health, which had previously been very good, became delicate.

In the sixth month, (June), he left Walthamstow, and became an inmate in the family of James Barkhouse, at York; his enquiring mind, combined with much intelligence and simplicity of manners, endeared him to the family circle, and his religious thoughtfulness was very apparent. His ardent attachment to his own country was often strikingly portrayed; and, on one occasion, when conversing respecting his countrymen, and the few advantages they enjoyed in comparison with the inhabitants of this land, he said, he had often thought the gay and thoughtless in this country, who looked down upon the uneducated natives of foreign lands, as though they had no pleasures, and knew nothing right, were the most to be pitied themselves. He remarked, that it was the sphere in which God had placed the poor natives, and that so long as they did that which they believed to be right in that sphere, they could not be so very miserable; for instance, he had very pleasant recollections of having been on fishing excursions when he was very young; the party in good humour one with another, toiled at their avocation, partook of their simple meal, cooked at the fire which they made on the spot, and again with ardency, pursued their employment; they felt very happy, and he could not help thinking, that they were under Divine notice, and that surely they were not accountable for that which they had not received.

About the middle of the seventh month, (July), the anxiety of Cupido's friends was again awakened, by a

recurrence of hemorrhage; this was succeeded by a degree of congestion of the brain, which for a short time beclouded his intellect; but it was interesting to observe, during this period, how much his thoughts, though wandering, were turned to subjects of the highest importance. After retiring to bed on the evening of the 25th of the eighth month, (August), a violent attack of hemorrhage came on, and he had many alarming repetitions during the succeeding week. From the first of these he evidently felt himself to be in a very critical state: he was frequently engaged in prayer, and several times requested that his friends would pray for him. (To be continued.)

DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

CHARITY, friendship, and peace, are nowhere so amiable and engaging as among those "whom one roof has sheltered through life, and whose ashes are afterward to mingle in the same sepulchre." This was the sentiment of the Roman orator, and yet more beautiful is the language of the Christian poet

How pleasant 'tis to see
Kindred and friends agree!
Each in their proper station move,
And each fulfil his part,

With sympathising heart,

In all the cares of life and love.

Like fruitful showers of rain,
That water all the plain,
Descending from the neighbouring hills;
Such strains of pleasure roll,

Through every friendly soul,

When love, like heavenly dew, distils.

The subject to which we would invite special attention, is the relation and duties of brothers and sisters.

The peace and mutual pleasure of the inmates of the same home, and children of the same family, cannot be too

much studied, nor is any labour too great to secure them. Here is a most sacred duty. Indifference to the interest and pleasure of those so near you, whose very form and features are but a reflection of your own, is melancholy proof of a selfish spirit, and the absence of every virtue and noble feeling.

Through days and years you must of necessity mingle together, and the amount of harmony and happiness, or of discord and sorrow, which this relation creates, is almost incalculable. And what is more becoming, more lovely, than the union of those little hands, and the mingling of those young hearts, who have been cradled on the same bosom, and are still sheltered by the same roof? And what so honourable and engaging, in after life, as brothers and sisters still affectionately united; most interested in each other's pleasure? who to the love of nature, instinct, and the nursery, have added the stronger and sacred bond of matured affection, and whose honour and happiness, and safety, lie in continuing and strengthening it in riper years?

There is something always affecting in parental care, and in the warm glow of filial love; and yet there is an indescribable interest thrown around the fraternal affections, which often surpasses both, and which borrows from both a peculiar sacredness. As parental care must soon cease, and filial love find its objects no more on earth, the fraternal relation, where peace and mutual happiness are studied, exhibits the fruits of the one, and opens a broad and beautiful sphere for the exercise of the other; and whoever beheld a family, where this peace and happiness were sought, without an assurance of its continued prosperity and happiness when parents shall be no more! And though their offspring are left tender and young, and exposed, in their mutual love, the parental blessing lives, and, through the eternal covenant, smiles the mercy of God. Let brothers and sisters study peace, and promote, as their own, each other's happiness; and so live, that their purest and highest joys shall be found in each other's society.

There is more than language can describe, in brothers treading hand in hand the path of life, and sisters resting

in confidence and love on a brother's smiles, and leaning for protection and support on a brother's arm.

As, arm in arm, the forest rose on high,
A lesson gave of brotherly regard;
And, on the mountain brow expos'd,
Bearing the blast alone-the ancient oak
Stood, lifting high his mighty arm, and still,
To courage in distress, exhorted loud.

Nor should this interest and love be permitted to die away in after years, but be cultivated with increased care, as new and more distant relations are formed; when fears, perhaps begin to rise, that your love and interest may become estranged from those whose happiness has so long been in your hands. That sister is unworthy a husband's confidence, who can erase from her heart the affectionate remembrance of a brother left at home to cheer the parental fireside; and that brother is a brute, who, in a husband's love, can forget a sister's want and tenderness.

In these separations, which must occur in life, do not lose nor fail to express mutual and continued remembrance. Forget not that you are brothers and sisters still, and that with all the relations you can form on earth, you can know no more of these. Often exchange the kind expressions of continued interest and affection. Pledge and extend aid and relief when needed, and carry to your graves the remembrance that you are "members one of another." United by nature, be united by grace, in the sympathies of a santified fraternity.

Where there are brothers and sisters, it is painful to see them preferring to be separate. It indicates a want of the finer feelings of our nature; of those delicate and affectionate sensibilities which are the surest pledges of future dignity and decorum. The eye of an intelligent observer here reads more of character than you perhaps imagine.

One of the finest writers on domestic prosperity and the fraternal duties, says, "Seck your happiness in each other's society. What can the brother find in the circle of dissipation, or among the votaries of pleasure, to be compared to this? What can a sister find amidst the concert of

sweet sounds, that has music for the soul, compared with this domestic harmony? Or, in the glitter and fashionable confusion, and the merry dance, compared with those calm, sequestered joys, which are found at the fireside of a happy family ?"

There can be no spot more sweet, profitable, and enchanting, than that domestic circle, where wise and affectionate parents witness the fruit of their labours, in the love and interest to make happy, which pervade the hearts and actuate the lives of brothers and sisters. They now most amply repay the labour and the care bestowed, and give the pledge of mutual love and protection, when parental care and kindness shall be suspended by death.

THE NOBLEMAN'S DAUGHTER.

THE daughter of an English nobleman was providentially brought under the influence of the followers of Wesley, and thus came to the saving knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. The father was almost distracted at the event, and by threats, temptations to extravagance in dress, by reading, and travelling in foreign countries, and to places of fashionable resort, took every means in his power to divert her mind from "things unseen and eternal." But her "heart was fixed." The God of Abraham had become "her shield and exceeding great reward," and she was determined that nothing finite should deprive her of her infinite and eternal portion in him, or displace him from the centre of her heart. At last the father resolved upon a final and desperate experiment, by which his end should be gained, or his daughter ruined, as far as her prospects in life were concerned. A large company of the nobility were invited to his house. It was so arranged, that during the festivities, the daughters of different noblemen, and, among others, this one, were to be called on to entertain the company with singing and music on the piano. If she refused compliance, she would be publicly disgraced, and lose, past the possibility of recovery, her place in society.