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to the very brink of the grave, and as often unexpectedly restored, not to strength, but to a state of comparative though suffering health. Through her various illnesses, she hardly ever uttered one word of complaint, but with her soul stayed upon Jesus was resigned to her Fathers will, whether for life or death. Her last severe attack, previous to her last illness, was in December 1837, again and again the hand of death appeared to be upon her, the damps of death appeared on her brow, the breathing was laborious, the bodily suffering greatbut the soul at peace. Contrary to all expectation she arose from that sick bed, and for many months was able to attend to the care of the children whose nurse she was. But there was a marked increase of spirituality from that time; decidedly religious as she had been before, she became more earnest, more diligent for her soul's good, more humble, she appeared to be living day by day, as she would like to die. The summer and autumn of 1838 passed, and there was no apparent change in Mary's complaints; she appeared feeble, but there was the impression on her own mind that her time would be short. On January 6th, 1839, the awful storm which devastated the Northern parts of England, blew down part of the chimney of the room in which she slept, and she was obliged to rise in the night. Before a fire could be lighted in another room for her, she had caught a slight cold, which was the messenger in God's hand for calling her to himself. Perfectly aware of her declining state she looked forward into eternity with the most blessed composure; not one doubt of her own acceptance was permitted to harass her, her soul was kept in perfect peace. She continued her usual employments as far as strength allowed, attended to the children, employed herself with a little needle work, but still to any enquiry which was made about her health declared herself to be sinking, that her time would be short. About three weeks before her death, she employed a friend to write a letter to her mother to warn her of her own approaching end. Her friend wept while Mary S. desired her to say her time must be short, upon which Mary S, said, "why do you weep? I dont find a tear near my eye.' She was asked about that time, "You are looking forward to death, how do you feel in the prospect of it?" She answered, "I know death is a erious and awful thing, but I thank God I have not one fear." Occasionally she crept down stairs to join in the family worship, though hardly able to go up stairs again. She dragged her trembling limbs to Church the first Sunday in March, and then for the last time joined the family of Jesus on earth at the Lord's table, but was hardly able to return the few steps to her master's house. When she recovered her breath, she said "Unless the Lord is pleased to take his hand off me, this is the last time I shall be at his house." Hier nights were distu bed with incessant and wearying coughing, but still, morning after morning, till two days before her death she rose early to pray and read the word of God before the children needed her care. She got weaker, her breathing worse, but the strength of her mind kept her up, and still she would employ herself in needle work, when her trembling hands would permit her. Such was her calmness, that the medical attendant could not bring his mind to believe that she was near death. Though there was considerable discharge of

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matter from the lungs, there was none of that peculiar distress in the countenance, so uniformly seen in consumptive persons. The countenance was peculiarly marked by an expression of peace. The day before her death upon some observation being made relative to her departure, she said "I thank God I am not afraid to die." Her last night was very suffering, the anodyne she took gave her no relief, and for the first time she lay till near noon. She was spoken to about three, but was unable to answer, owing to the distressing la bouring for breath, but still all was peace, her soul was fixed upon the rock of ages. About half-past nine at night, her breathing became easier, and she began to converse with a friend. She referred to her own sinfulness, though seldom was there a more blameless character. The observation was made to her, "but you believe your sins are forgiven," "yes," she replied, "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, but it is a very painful thing to look back and see my sin against God. But it is not only forgiven, but forgotten, for it is said, "thy sins and thine iniquities I will remember no more." She went on in this strain for some time, speaking with the sweetest faith, relying on God's word. Her fellow servants came in, and she addressed some cheerful words to them, and then lay down in bed say. ing she felt so comfortable she thought she could sleep, and in about two hours breathed laboriously, and closed her eyes here, to awake in glory.

Such was the end of one, a servant, yet above a servant, a sister beloved, at the age of 26, the last seven years of whose life had been spent in the same family who were made the instruments of her conversion, and wbo rejoiced and wept at her early though blessed depar ture. Death was so robbed of its sting and its terrorsit was a hallowed peaceful season.

On the Monday morning-devout men, communicants, carried Mary S. to her grave-her mortal remains (in the absence of her relatives) were followed to their last home by her fellow servants and a few Christian friends. The minister met the funeral at the church yard gate, when a train of the female communicants of their own account joined the procession. How appro priate the solemn services of the church were felt ou this occasion-" Oh death where is thy sting! oh grave where is thy victory"" Many a tear was shed over this young stranger by these her christian friends-the minister's voice shook with solemn emotion. At the grave that beautiful hymn was attempted to be sung, In vain our fancy strives to paint,

The moment after death,

The glories which surround the saint,
When yielding up his breath.

but the voices trembled too much be to able properly to raise the tune.

There the mortal remains lie, the happy spirit is n glory-she often drank of the cup of sorrow on earth, now all is over, no more pain or sorrow or sighing.Valued as she was in her station, the grace of God made her what she was. Lamented as she was in her death, the love of a Saviour has removed her from his family on earth, to his family in heaven.

Reader, will you die the death of the infidel or of the Believer? Live the life of the believer, so only shall you die his death. BEACON.

The Bookseller of Allerton, or Practical Piety. By the Author of "A Visit to my Birth Place," "Early Recollections," Arnot and her Pupils,' &c. ye.

ESTHER PENROSE was the daughter of a tradesman in rather struggling circumstances, his death left her destitute of almost all means of support, except such as might result from a very prudent, steady, well-principled turn of mind. While debating the subject of future occupation and the choice of a suitable residence, it so occurred that a young man of the same town, with whom she had been for some time acquainted, came to the conclusion that if each must struggle through life it might be as well together as singly.

His reasoning was erroneous, but it had weight with Esther Penrose, and they were married. William Walters had held a subordinate situation in the employment of a bookseller. His department lay principally out of doors, but he occasionally took his place behind the counter, by which means he acquired some knowledge of the business; and he always regretted the return of the shopman from his dinner or other employment, because he was anxious to learn it still more.

There were some circumstances connected with this situation that made it by no means a comfortable one, and besides these, Walters who was an orphan and friendless, often felt that latent want which the heart of man without companionship experiences; Esther Penrose had been his only friend, and it was a heavy prospect for him when she was about to remove. Two wishes divided and possessed the heart of William Walters; one was to have a home; the other to be a bookseller.

These objects seemed likely to be obtained, he thought, by his marriage with Esther Penrose. His home, at least was found, and he thought it would be a happy one; and for the other object, the sale of her father's effects, together with the savings of bis own frugal life, produced a sum which he considered sufficient for a commencement; it was sufficient after all the expenses were paid and a small balance retained for current expenditure, to stock with some cheap books, pamphlets, paper, wax and wafers, a little shop in the most obscure part of the town, which bore in immense capitals over the door the inscription," Bookselling and Stationary Establishment." When it was all neatly arranged and Walters felt himself the actual and independent owner of the whole 'concern,' and saw the name of William Walters painted on each door post, his situations were certainly very happy, although his wife did discompose him a little by hinting that she would have left out the first designation of the "Establishment."

But the feeling your possessions, brings with it a proportionate feeling of care; there is something to be sure in the possession of home and independence, very pleasing to one who had scarcely ever known what either ever meant, but a secret dread of bankruptcy is another sensation almost sufficient to counterbalance this pleasure. Walters

however now saw himself a man of business, and he wished to bear his anxieties patiently and his hon ours meekly.

Esther, too, though of a different temperament from her husband, was disposed to form expectations not likely to be realized, she had like many others been rather less prudent in forming this partnership than she usually was in other matters, and therefore she soon began to put that prospect at a distance, look brighter than on a nearer approach ; theirs, for a couple of months, did not appear quite so brilliant as they had done just before their little shop was opened, and when they expected that all Walters former acquaintances would immediately resort to it; Esther also, soon discovered that though she had been able to assist in her father's business she knew nothing at all of her husband's, and if she did it was by no means too much for himself to manage.

Amid these new-born anxieties one painful fear haunted poor Esther's mind, it was that her husband would find out that they could have better struggled through life singly than together. This often made her secretly uneasy, and once a remark from himled her to express her fear; his reply uttered in his customary reserved yet empathetic manner, set her at rest on that subject, for she implicitly believed his slightest assurance I never did repent yet. Esther, and come what will I am sure I never shall." she was relieved from this fear, and resolved to set about her part of their mutual struggles with all the alacrity in her power.

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Patience is required in the beginning of all attempts. When Walters and his wife became better known in the immediate neighbourhood, they got many friends, as those who are kind and obliging, upright and honest generaly do, and many a man, woman and child found out their need of little articles in his line, which they would never have discovered if these articles were not sold by Mr. Walters. Walters and his wife were indeed among those of whom, at this time all men spoke well, and and it is well in cases where no principles are beid but those which the world commends, that this should be so, but in cases where principles which the world condemns or opposes are held, then is the "woe" pronounced by scripture applicable, for those principles must be compromised if all men spake well of us.

Now Esther was not only what the world would denominate a steady, active well-principled woman, but her principles had a foundation; they did not appear the result of accident, education or disposition, nor did they rest on the maxims of morality; they were really founded on religion. Her father was a pious man, but he had come, when she was about fourteen, to live in a town from where the light of scripture truth so far as public instruction was concerned, was wholly excluded, and he had fallen into that careless state which is so often produced by a residence among the ungodly, and a separation from the means of grace. Yet he taught

his only child what was right, she was brought up in what is termed a religious manner, that is she was taught even from childhood the relation that she and all mankind held in regard to God, she knew by that teaching, the scripture truth, "that men are born in sin, that there is none righteous, no, not one;" she could therefore detect the fallacy in which arguments for the doctrine of human merit are founded, and feel with regret, as well as pronounce with decision, that in her parish pulpit was preached another gospel from that left to us by those who come "preaching peace by Jesus Christ."

But here Esther's acquaintance with scripture appeared to stop; she seemed habitually to overlook such passages as these-" Faith without works is dead." "I have ordained you that you should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should abound," and to forget that to her, the demand might be made- Shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works."

It is true she did not do a great many things that others did, she led a very quiet, orderly, domestic life; to which, perhaps, natural disposition inclined her, but her religion came little in contact with it; she passed on so smoothly through it, that the meaning of one of our Lord's declamations was quite unknown to her-" Whosoever will not deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me, cannot be my Disciple."

Her faith interfered in general, but little with her practice, or rather her practice was not the habitual result of her faith. She would shrink from anything that was plainly and palpably wrong, either sinful in its nature, or proceeding clearly at variance with those of religion, but faith in her was not what it must be where duly exercised--the mainspring which moves the wheels of life.

In the consideration of some great affair, Esther did indeed pause to consider in what manner reli. gious duty might be connected with it, in the case of marriage, for instance, she had felt it would not be right to unite herself to a man of different religious sentiments; and so she had stated hers to Walters before she agreed to be his wife, and he told her he believed there was not a great difference between them on the subject, and then all was agreed on.

Walters was a man of very reserved and quiet disposition, his words on any subject were few, so it may be supposed they were fewest in one which he really knew nothing about. Esther wished to think he was of one mind with herself, therefore she was more easily satisfied than another might be. A sense, however, of the importance of religion often pressed heavily on the mind of Walters, that feeling we possess in early life and greatly lose in middle age, of the brevity and unsatisfying nature of this life, had often led him to wish that he was certain of a more permanent and satisfying one to come. This feeling might be for a little removed after his marriage, it was natural that it should be so, for there his heart was occupied by an affection to which it

had been a stranger, he thought its longings after good were gratified, and that Esther would yield the satisfaction for which it panted. Such a state is happiness, while it lasts, but it is not designed to last. Man was formed by God, God breathed into man's nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul, what came from God, aspires to God, God and God only is the home of man's heart.

His former situation allowed Walters some advantages, which, as the head of his own "Establishment" he did not enjoy. Good air and exercise were among these, and though the number of his cus tomers might not entirely deprive him of the latter, he was always to be found behind his counter, ready to attend the purchasers of a sixpenny or a threepenny book, a sheet of paper, a pen or pamphlet, with the same assiduous courtesey which he had seen practised to customers to a greater extent. This conduct would have been finally successful, and by patience and perseverance Walters and his wife would probably have attained their object, and instead of struggling through life together might so far as temporal things were concerned, have passed comfortably and happily through it, enjoying the friendship of their neighbours and exempt from the enmity of any individual.

But there is a secret disposal of all human events, that is not known or seen in the little busy scene whereon those events take place. Man's life here is but the first germ of that which it is to be, and sometimes that germ when first approaching, in ap parently the most favourable direction, is forced in an opposite way, appears crooked, distorted, stunted in growth, but then the root is hid in the ground, we must not judge only by "what is seen and is temporal." As Walters always had an idea that his business would increase, and become rather overpowering, he had made a resolution to take a walk every day in the fields adjacent to the town, to invigorate his frame under the expected cares and labours of his new "Establishment." This arrange ment for the first year, he regularly adhered to, and at such times his wife took his place with her work in her hand on the chair behind the counter. It was on one of these occasions that an incident occurred, which although apparently of a very trivial nature had a singular influence on the future lives of herself and her husband.

Esther had not long taken her post in the shop, when a young man who was employed in a large neighbouring factory, came in and asked for one of the small books, or rather pamphlets, of which Walter's "Bookselling Establishment" chiefly contained. Esther readily found it, it was in the niche wherein where deposited all articles most frequently called for. The youth paid the price and departed, commencing the perusal of his purchase even before he left the shop. Esther knew his character, it was one she disliked, the most dissolute and daring in that part of the town, she wondered how he bad adopted a taste for reading, and resolving the ques tion as she slowly rearranged the print, she glanced

over another of the same books. Her first impulse after a slight survey of its contents was to cast it aside, but she was tempted to look on further. It was a profane and wicked tract, one of those miserable productions with which profane and wicked men were at that time destroying the fairest parts of our land, insinuating them even with the mines as well as the doctrines, as if with the light of day they would exclude the light of truth. Esther coloured as she glanced over it, its words of daring impiety, were offensive at the time, yet might not be easily effaced from memory, and therefore she would read them no more, even through curiosity; and while she calmly tied it up again in the bundle from whence it was taken, in her usual contented way she thanked God that she was not as other men, that the blessed day-spring from on high had visited her, and guided her into the way of peace, but swift as a ray of light darted into her mind the saying of our Lord-No man lighteth a candle to put it under a bushel, but rather on a candlestick, that it may give light to them that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may glorify your father which is Heaven.

Esther felt very uneasy, she moved away and ex. amined the nature of Walter's usual sales, they were almost all of a very light or impious, or positively wicked and profane class, including many of the infidel tracts and works which were then in such demand in that part of the country.

A sense of responsibility as the medium of administering poison to the mind, and soul of a fellowcreature became very distressing to Esther, she looked back to her own conduct, and a host of condemnatory scriptures rose up against her. "Do not even the publicans the same ?" she asked herself as with humiliation, she called to mind how proud she had been of superior religious light. The declaration, "By their fruits ye shall know them,” suggested now a doubt whether she had ever had a part or lot in the things whereof she had gloried. "He that gathereth not with me scattereth," called up to view her manifold sins of omission; Esther began to reflect how she had been living, the retrospect did not restore her peace, for a veil of selfdeception was now rent from her heart, she was truly disquieted, she wondered why her husband delayed his walk, she longed to leave a place which made her so uncomfortable, but the arrow was sharp in her heart, and had she taken the wings of the morning and remained in the uttermost part of the earth, there should the hand of the Lord find her.

When Esther was set at liberty she hastily retired without saying anything of what had passed, and taking her Bible into her room, she knew where to find enough to condemn her former easy careless state. Then were convictions of sin fully awakened in her mind, and like the prophet of old she was ready to lay her hand on her mouth, and her mouth in the dust and cry-" unclean, unclean."

That Esther had not been a true believer in the gospel, I will not undertake to say, but certain

it is that she now felt concerning her recent state, that she had had a name to live and was dead; that she had been among such as " are at ease in Zion,” and therefore amongst those on whom the "woe"

But when the fiery serpents bit the Israelites and the people were perishing, a serpent of brass was lifted up on a pole to represent the well-beloved Son of God, who was made a curse for us that he might deliver us from that "old Serpent," whose poison more deadly than the fiery one, had glided through all our nature, and whom God the Father freely gave, that whosoever believeth should not perish but have everlasting life. And thus, when the Lord sends the knowledge of the disease he always makes known the remedy. "The precious bloed of Christ." is not only the fountain in which the sinner may at first wash away all sin and uncleanness, but is also one that stands ever open, to which he may return and be made "clean every whit."

[To be continued.].

The establishment of Christianity.

AN UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT FOR ITS DIVINE ORIGINAL. For the Christian Beacon.

ONE of the most convincing arguments, in proof of the divine origin of Christianity, is the fact of its entrance in the world, and the extent to which it has been established upon earth. It requires but a hasty cursory glance at the character of Christianity, and the circumstances attending its first appearance and promulgation, to satisfy every unprejudiced mind, that the success of such a religion, under such circumstances, can only be explained on rational principles, by the acknowledg ment of its truth, and the admission of divine power having been exercised to promote its progress-and enable him to triumph over all the difficulties, with which it had to struggle, when first it claimed to itself the homage of every creature, to whom its celestial message of mercy was made known.

We might fairly challenge the infidel to account in any other way, reconcilable with the dictates of right reason, for the original triumphs, and permanent establishment of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. We might ask him (and feel that the issue of the controversy, as to the divine origin of Christianity, might safely be allowed to rest on a rational and honest answer to the enquiry.) If you deny that Christianity is a divine system, and that its success, in spite of the formidable obstacles by which it was opposed, is to be explained by its having had the Omnipotence of God erced on its behalf, how will you account for that success? Its existence is an unquestionable fact, and on every fair principle of reasoning, demands an explanation. We say that the admission of its divine original will satisfactorily (and nothing else will) explain this phenomenon. Since you deny that this is the true solution, you are surely bound to supply some other, which enlightened reason, or, I may indeed say, common sense will approve. Well then, what is your solution? How will you rationally account for the success of the Gospel? Is it by the attractiveness of the story

it is set forward? Was that so calculated to captivate the imagination, as to be likely to induce multitudes-or even a single individual, to embrace it, on superficial evidence or without having severely scrutinized its claim to a divine original? Precisely the reverse. For what was that story? That the Founder of Christianity, after being rejected, by His own nation, was publicly executed, as an impostor, and blasphemer, in company with two malefactors, and we know what prominence the first preachers always gave to this fact-"We preach," says St. Paul, Christ Crucified." Surely-surely--it was not the captivating attractiveness of such a story, that can satisfactorily explain the original or subsequent success of Christianity! Was its success then owing to its adaptation to the depraved passions, and carnal principles of mankind? Was it by stooping to flatter the pride, or to foster the corruption of our fallen nature, that Christianity achieved her triumphs? No! So far from this, she proclaims irrevocable warfare with them all! She tells the man of pride, that he must become as a little child, or he can never enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.-She warns the sensualist, that none shall inherit her promised glories, but the pure in heart. She declares to the slave of angry passions, that he who deliberately cherishes a resentful feeling in his breast is a murderer, and that no murderer has an inheritance in the kingdom of blessedness, to which she conducts her votaries! Thus she arrays every depraved passion of the human heart in determined and desparate hostility against her! And surely then it cannot be pretended that it is by adapting the standard of her moral requirements and promised rewards, to the sinful propensities and principles of our fallen nature, that she enlists their powerful patronage on her behalf! Surely her success cannot, (as that of Mahometanism can) be thus explained! No. (I repeat it for it is an unanswerable demonstration of her divine original)—her uncompromising demand is-that every proud, impure, revengeful feeling must be crucified ! and that humility, holiness, and love must not merely regulate the lives, but reign in the hearts, of her true disciples. Is this (I again ask the infidel,) a religion, so suited to the appetites, and habits of the generality of mankind, that you can find in that suitableness the solution of its success. Shall we then solve the difficulty by the display of the tempting bribes of worldly wealth, and honour, and applause, by which Christianity so dazzles the eyes of her deceived votaries, as to blind their judgments; and seduce them into the profession of a faith, which so richly rewarded all who embraced its creed. Indeed! Who does not know that poverty, persecution, disgrace, death, in its most dreadful forms-these, these were the earthly rewards distinctly set before the view, by the Founder of Christianity, as the inevitable recompense of attachment to His Cause." Ye shall be hated of all men for My Name's Sake-Yea! the time cometh, when whoso killeth you, will think that he doeth God service!"-Behold the language in which the author of Christianity proclaims to all who professed to be willing to follow him, the certain consequences of their devotedness to Him, who was himself despised and rejected of

And was it by holding out such a prospect,

that an imposter or an enthusiast would have attempted, or could have succeeded, to persuade men to espouse His Cause?

While the general impediment to the progress of Christianity arising from this prospect of persecution, disgrace, and death, is kept in view as rendering its success so exceedingly marvelous, should the peculiar obstacles to a ready reception of the Gospel, which both the Jew and the Gentile must encounter, be overlooked, in estimating the difficulties, with which, on its first promulgation, Christianity had to contend. In acknow. ledging the claims of Jesus of Nazareth to be the promised Messiah, the Jew had to abandon his darling hope of an earthly deliverer, coming in all the pomp of earthly power, to rescue his nation from the Roman yoke. ile had also to give up the fondly-cherished feeling on which the Jew so peculiarly prided himself, of being the exclusive favourite of the God of Heavenand to see the Gentile, whom he was always habituated to regard with contempt and abhorrence, admitted, when he embraced Christianity, to an equal participa tion of Jehovah's favour with himself. And, finally, he must consent, as it were, to sign the death-warrant of the Mosaical dispensation of ceremonies and sacrifices, in which he gloried with such a devoted-such a bigotted attachment, and to confess, that this long idolized system had comparatively no glory by reason of the surpassing glory of the Gospel scheme! For this (a Jew must have painfully felt,) eclipsed altogether the splendour of that preparatory dispensation, which like Moses on the Monnt of Transfiguration, was commissioned to appear, only to bear testimony and do homage to the son of God, and then having fulfilled its destined office, vanished away! Now surely, when we view these circumstances, calmly and dispassionately, we must feel, that there were with the Jew, suchhumanly speaking-insurmountable barriers to the recognition of the Saviour's claims to be the Messiah promised to his fathers, that nothing but the admission of the truth to their claims being supported by divine power, can account for such multitudes of the Jewish people embracing the religion of the Gospel, disappointing as it did so many of their dearest hopes-and op posed to so many of their darling prejudices. And this fact be it observed, rests not merely on the testimony of Christian writers but, (what, with the infidel at least, will have more weight,) on that of the heathen historians Tacitus and Suetonius, who record the rapid progress of primitive Christianity. The answer to this statement, that the comparison between the prophecies of the Old Testament, and the Saviour's miracles and ministry, might persuade the Jew to acknowledge His clainis, will not suit the purpose of the infidel-since this is manifestly to admit the divine origin of Christianity. as incontestibly proved by one of the most unanswer able of arguments-the exact fulfilment of minute and manifold prophecies, acknowledged on all sides to have been delivered hundreds of years before the period of their accomplishment.

Now look at the peculiar obstacles the Gentile convert, had to overcome! He must abandon the religion of his country-and his fathers-(for christi anity admitted of no compromise on this point he must

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