racter of whom I write. He had fought the good fight, kept the faith, and was ready to be offered up. He gradually declined, protesting his unshaken confidence in the truths which he had so long preached, and endeavoured to impress on his family and others. At length, he became so weak and nervous, that he spoke but little; and was frequently, through the prevalence of disease, a painful subject of depression.

Neither the power of medicine, nor the affectionate solicitude of friends, nor the advantage of the finest situations, can effectually relieve, contrary to the divine appointment. Mr. C. still found his weakness continue; or, as he termed it, he "was quite worn out." His exertions for many years, particularly at St. John's, were such, as nature sunk under.

In the early part of his ministry, he had been used to preach four times on the Sunday in different Churches, as has been before stated, beside frequently reading the prayers; and, the last summer he spent in town before his paralytic seizure, he frequently preached three times on the Sunday at St. John's. Such exertions were painfully observed, by myself and his friends, as likely to produce fatal consequences. He was indefatigable in his labours, and fatigue he disregarded. I have often regretted his lying in bed, long wakeful; and, on enquiring wherefore, he has replied, "I have been making a Sermon." He was urged to unbend his mind from

study; but his habit was fixed, and he found it difficult to withdraw his mind from close thinking. He never seemed weary of his studies: they were not only his business, but his enjoyment and recreation-and he used to call it his REST: he felt all demands that infringed on these, his LABOur, and the return to his study his REST. Few more carefully aimed to redeem time, and to spend it ONLY in what was worthy of a Man and a Christian Minister-Often repeating

"For at my back I always hear

Time's winged Chariot hurrying near;
And onwards, ALL BEFORE, I see

Deserts of vast eternity!"

It cannot be doubted but that Mr. Cecil's arduous habits shortened his days: this must ever be deplored; but a consoling reflection remains, in the contemplation of his great usefulness during his life. His ministry was successful, wherever he was called to reside: some in every place stand as his witnesses, and will rise up and call him blessed.

But, while his success was so uniform, and he met with general acceptation wherever he went, this popularity was accompanied with a large portion of humility: no one, who knew him intimately, can question this for a moment. No man living could be further removed from ostentation: he was, with others, alive to encouragement, but unmoved by flattery. I have often been quite astonished at hearing him speak of his attainments

and of his labours, in terms which no one could grant as applicable to him. I have reflected, "Surely Mr. C. must know his own comparative attainments!" but I have still perceived that his acumen of mind led him to extend his view far beyond what he had attained, while he really HAD attained such a portion of habitual humility, that he very sincerely esteemed others better than himself: yet, in fact, most of the various points of excellence in other characters were evidently united in his own.

Nothing is more common to observation, than persons mistaking qualities of mind, which, in appearance, resemble each other. Dignified sentiment and conduct are termed pride; firmness— obstinacy; energy-severity; originality—eccentricity; and consummate pride is often mistaken for humility. Mr. C. certainly possessed a dignity of mind and conduct-firmness-energy-and originality: but was as far removed from pride, obstinacy, severity, and eccentricity as most who still bear about a depraved nature and its consequent imperfections.

It is needless for me to state what acceptance Mr. C. received at St. John's. His affectionate attachment to that place and people, and the pleasure with which he laboured among them, will best appear by his own expression of it. "I may say, Up from my youth have I been nursed in tears: for, wherever I have been, I have ex

perienced some degree of unkind treatment and ingratitude, except at St. John's. It is no wonder, therefore, that my ministry there is my delight." He felt AT HOME no where but at St. John's. How, and in what spirit he laboured in this fruitful field, it is not necessary for ME to say. This will be taken up by another pen. His works, however, not only follow him; but will remain with us, so long as memory remains: and, should forgetful nature become unmindful, we may recal the remembrance of him who had the rule over us; and, again, in the spirit and words of the Apostle, hear him appealing to our consciences:-For our exhortation was not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile: But, as we were allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts. For neither, at any time, used we flattering words, AS YE KNOW; nor a cloak of covetousness, God is witness. Nor of MEN sought we glory; neither of you, nor yet of others, when we might have been burdensome as the Apostles of Christ. But we were gentle among you, even as a nurse cherisheth her children: so, being affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the Gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ye were dear unto us. For ye remember, brethren, our labour and travel: for, labouring night and day, because we would not be chargeable unto any of you, we preached unto you the Gospel of God. YE ARE WITNESSES, and God

also, how holily, and justly, and unblameably we behaved ourselves among you that believe: as ye know how we exhorted, and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children, that ye would walk worthy of God who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory."

I will only add, before I close this subject, an instance of his continued and anxious solicitude for the place which his soul loved-the welfare and prosperity of his congregation lay near his heart: even when his increasing disease allowed him little hope of resuming his delightful employ of ministering among them again, he desired me, while at Clifton in the winter of 1808, to put down from his lips the following memorandum:-"I have sunk considerably more than 20007. during the time I have laboured at St. John's Chapel, in its repair and improvements: and I am now anxious, that, whoever takes the future management of it, should conduct it in the same order; and that no new customs should be introduced-that all neglects and abuses may be watched over and restrained—and that the same grave and holy uniformity be preserved."

It is to be lamented, that, in Mr. Cecil's last illness, we were deprived of that rich vein of reflections, with which we were privileged during his confinement in the year 1798, and which the nature of his fatal disease now impeded. 1798, though he was torne with pain, yet his MIND

In