set up for use; and the worn-out testaments of a school, incomplete for class-reading and unfit for the handling of children, were begged by her; the torn leaves were repaired, and portions put into a stiff cover, to be given to a prisoner, on being liberated, or for the use of one to whom she did not like to lend a neat copy.

Thus she held on her earnest and unflagging course till April 1841, when the corporation of Yarmouth, contrary to her expressed wishes, for she again and again stated that money formed no part of her object, voted her the enormous annual salary of twelve pounds! Twelve pounds per annum for a devoted woman, who had spent the best years of her life in combating vice and ignorance in the most loathsome and repulsive of their institutions! One is lost in the contemplation of such unparalleled munificence. And, to clench the matter, the authorities made the acceptance of their largesse the condition of their female functionary's readmission into the gaol precincts.

The dictum ran: "The business is out of your hands. If we permit you to visit the prison, you must submit to our terms."

But her release was fast approaching. In April 1843, four-and-twenty years from the period on which she had first commenced her selfappointed task, she was seized by an acute disease, which permanently confined her to her room, and proved eventually the herald of her dissolution. Through weary hours of indescribable suffering her faith unfailingly supported her; and the following may be regarded as details of the closing

scene:

"Those who saw much of Miss Martin during the last few months immediately previous to her being finally laid aside from her active work, feel that there was an evident ripening for her gathering in.

She seemed to shrink from intercourse with persons where she could not speak of her Saviour, and for him. Wherever she went, the proposal was, 'Let us read God's word together.'

"Throughout her illness there was no murmuring, no repining. Her energetic mind, her earnest desires, her almost restless anxiety to work in the vineyard, were all brought into a quiet, submissive waiting upon her Master's will. It is the Lord. Let him do what seemeth to him good.""

The tone of her mind is shown by a circumstance mentioned by one of the nurses during a night of great suffering and pain. The sufferer begged the nurse to read to her she could hardly speak from exhaustion; but, upon the question being put, "What shall I read?" the emphatic answer was, "Praise."

:

In an earlier stage of her illness, when she was able to see friends, the sufferer was feelingly describing to a lady the support, the comfort, and the peace she enjoyed, with the vivid anticipations of the joys of heaven, the rest prepared for the children of God.

Her friend said: "And is it always permitted you to have this peace? Are there no clouds? For sometimes it pleases God to hide his face even from his own children."

Unless witnessed, the energy of her tones and gestures is not to be conceived, in quickly answering, "O, no: he never hides his face. It is our

sins which form the cloud between us and him. He is all love, all light: with him is no variableness, neither shadow of turning: my precious Saviour, my Beloved is always nigh: I can testify of his tender supporting love. I have in health spoken of it to others; but till now I have never even experienced half its fulness."

Thus leaning on the Beloved, who nourished her in the pastures of his promises, and led her by the still waters of abundant consolation, she entered the valley of the shadow of death, in the full appreciation of the declaration: "Thou art ever with me: thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

It pleased God to keep her in the furnace of great bodily affliction, even to the hour of her departure. About twenty minutes before her death, she begged for more anodyne to lull her pain. The nurse then told her that she believed the time of her departure was arrived; when, clapping her hands together, she said, "Thank God, thank God!" and spoke no more till she joined the heavenly choir in the full burst and perfection of that song, which on earth was her unceasing theme, Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."

Amid the jargons which are incessantly resounding around us, the cry may be distinctly heard, "What can individual effort effect? No important result can be achieved without capital and cooperation! To success numbers and united effort are indispensable. An isolated individual is helpless his views and aims are alike a mockery." That dogma-often vehemently spoken and hastily adopted-let the life of Sarah Martin disprove. By the continuous exertions of a solitary individual was changed the entire aspect of a gaoland she a dependent, struggling, helpless woman. To her enterprise she brought neither ample means, nor the aid of influential friends; neither formidable talents, nor extensive information. Her studies seem to have been peculiarly limited. She read but one book-the bible; but she knew it thoroughly, and turned its startling lessons to daily account. For herself, two special encouragements she gathered from its glorious armoury: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him;" and further, that "the law of the Lord is perfect, and maketh wise the simple." Contrast her life, earnest, active, hopeful, full of mercy and compassion, with that of the heartless, selfish, sarcastic, sneering Brummell. Which did the most for their fellows? Which turned the boon of existence to the best account? Whose was the most rational career? And their end! he, not knowing how to pray; she, abounding in praise and thanksgiving. In him we see means, connections, opportunities granted, and-abused; in her, the single talent well employed. The one was-all but in name-a heathen: the other an earnest believer; true to the noblest impulses of a most benevolent nature; ever striving to mitigate the sorrows which exist in this earthly scene of brief probation; and hourly reaching forth to that

land of bright realities" which lies beyond it. How sound is the great American moralist's remark: "Look not abroad for the blessings of Christ. His reign and chief blessings are within

I pointed out to my young companions the beautiful structure of an ear of corn. I then picked a single grain from one of the ears. I might have cropped off an ear, rubbed it between my hands, and then, taking one grain, have thrown the remainder away; but I do not like waste a single grain was enough for my purpose, and therefore all I took was one. As I placed it in the palm of my left hand, "Look here," said I to my young friends; "here is a little wonder. It is a full-grown and perfect grain: it is, you see, in form, a compressed oval, wrapped up in some chaffy coverings, and then having an inner one, which fits the seed much more closely. On one side you can perceive a groove, and on the other side there is a little oval lump, covered up, however, as nicely and snugly as possible. That is the germ from which a future plant might spring, were it properly deposited in the earth, the other part of the grain contributing to its nourishment; and the soil, by God's blessing on it, and the air, the sun, and the rain, yielding whatever else it should require to bring it to maturity. The vessels by which a grain is attached to a plant, and through which it draws up nourishment until it is ripe, are found at the lower end of this little lump."

"I never knew that before, uncle William," said Jane.

"I am glad I told you," was my reply; "and you have often read in the best of all books that the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.' So, you see, there is a marvellous multiplication, one grain producing many grains. Count,' said I, as I selected one from the millions that were growing, "how many there are in this fine

ear."

Jane said she counted sixty-two; and Sarah made exactly the same number. "And yet," said I, "though this is a large increase, it has been far exceeded in other instances. Shoots, you observe, spring up, and roots grow down, giving the plant a firm hold on the ground. These shoots are sometimes as many as a dozen, or even more; for the power of multiplication possessed by vegetables is most extraordinary. In 1660 sir Kenelm Digby asserts that there was in the possession of some persons at Paris a plant of barley, which they kept at that time as a curiosity, and which consisted of two hundred and forty-nine stalks spring

* From "The Church of England Sunday Scholar's Magazine." London: Whittemore.

ing from one root, or grain, and in which they counted above eighteen thousand grains, or seeds, of barley. On the 2nd of June, 1766, Mr. Miller, of Cambridge, sowed some grains of the common red wheat; and on the 8th of August a single plant was taken up, and divided into eighteen parts, and each part planted separately. A second division produced sixty-seven plants; and a third amounted to five hundred. They were then divided no farther; and some of them produced upwards of one hundred ears from a single root, many of which measured seven inches in length, and contained between sixty and seventy grains. The whole number of ears which, by this process, were produced from one grain of wheat, was twenty-one thousand one hundred and nine, which yielded three peeks and three-quarters of clear corn, the weight of which was forty-seven pounds seven ounces, and the whole number of grains was about five hundred and seventy-six thousand eight hundred and forty. In this case there was only one general division of the plants made in the spring. Had a second taken place, Mr. Miller thinks the number of plants would have amounted to two thousand."

I saw that Jane and Sarah were astonished at this statement, as they well might be; and I then added that our familiarity with corn led us often to overlook what we should scarcely fail to mark if we were now to see it for the first time. "Would you like a story, showing the effect of its possession among a savage people?" I asked.

"Indeed, indeed I should," was Jane's reply, to which that of Sarah was an echo.

"A chief, named Duaterra, was the first person who actually reared a crop of wheat in New Zealand. On his return home from Port Jackson the second time, he took with him a quantity for seed, and informed his friends, to their astonishment, that it would produce biscuit like that they enjoyed so much on board of ships. He gave some of it to several persons, all of whom planted it, and it promised well; but being impatient, and expecting to see the produce at the roots, similar to their potatoes, they examined them. Being disappointed, they gave up the trial; and all, with the exception of Duaterra's uncle, pulled the cornplants up, and burned them. The chiefs ridiculed the two who believed in the success of their experiment; but they were unable to alter the opinions of their friends. His own crops, and those of Lis uncle, came to perfection, and were reaped and thrashed; but the others still disbelieved that bread could be made of the produce. A friend afterwards sending Duaterra a steel mill, the corn was ground, and the flour made, in the presence of his countrymen, who danced and shouted with delight when they saw the meal. He afterwards made a cake, and, having baked it in a fryingpan, gave it to the people to eat; thus adopting the very best mode of convincing them of the truth of his statements. The chiefs eagerly accepted the corn he supplied them with again, and their endeavours were crowned with success."

"What a very interesting tale!" said Sarah. A slight pause ensued; and then Jane exclaimed, "O uncle, we saw the harvest-home in this field last autumn."

"The barvest-home!" I repeated; "what is that, Jane?"

"It is the end of the harvest, uncle," replied Jane. "When the last waggon-load left the field it was such a joyful sight! The men and the boys gathered round it, shouting, and making such a noise: some were singing, and some were calling out, Harvest-home! harvest-home!" " "Yes, uncle," added Sarah eagerly, "and then we went to see the harvest-supper. There was roast beef and plumb-pudding for all the labourers-such large plumb-puddings, uncle! and everybody did seem to enjoy themselves so."

"I dare say they did, Sarah; it is generally a merry time; and I hope that both the farmer and

rest, looks back upon the troubled billows through which he has been divinely borne, and traces the course he has held by the smooth water-line which his bark has left upon their bosom.

Poetry.

HYMN*.

BY THE REV. E. H. BICKERSTEth.

"God sends the harvest to the

year,

Nor disappoints the hope of spring;
His bounties life to man endear,

And nourish every living thing.

His presence to the reaper stands ;

Then, Christian, why that faithless dread?
The God who fills the reaper's hands

Will feed thy soul with living bread.'"

"And who," I continued, "can forget that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ is that bread of life? Such was his own representation of himself: 'I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world" (John vi. 51). As, then, we receive bread in order to the support of natural life, so Christ must be received by faith; that is, we must trust in him alone for salvation, and act from day to day under the power of this confidence in the Redeemer, if we would arise from a death of sin to a life of righteousness, and enjoy hereafter that glory and happiness which is described as life eternal.'

verts in Tinnevelly, Madras, and Ceylon).

"Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."-REV. v. 13.

LORD Jesus, unto whom is given

All power on earth, all power in heaven

O Lord, to thine eternal praise

Our song of jubilee we raise.

Thy hand has o'er our fallen world
The banner of thy love unfurled.
To us reproach and shame belongs-
To thee alone these rapturous songs.
Thanksgivings, with our prayers, arise,
And reach thy throne beyond the skies;
To thee our praise for victories past,
In thee our trust to win at last.
Dark storms are low'ring far and near;
Men's hearts are failing them for fear:
Our songs shall pierce the stormy sky,
For our redemption draweth nigh.
Then blessing, glory, power, and fame
Be unto God, and to the Lamb,
Till in full presence of our King
Our next great jubilee we sing.

NOTES FOR THE AFFLICTED*.

God is too merciful to place a giant's burden upon a child's shoulders.

Grace never shines so brightly as when the Sun of Righteousness emerges from behind a cloud.

If we look back upon our afflictions with the eye of true faith, we shall confess ourselves unwilling to have foregone any one of them, had the condition been that we must have foregone the grace that each brought with it.

We hold our good gifts by charter, not by chance; God having conditioned to lend them only so long as he thought good for us. It is by daily humbling ourselves in prayer before God that we attain to such an implicit faith as enables us to sit calmly under all, even the severest of his visitations, and to say with the Shunamite mother, "It is well" (2 Kings iv. 26).

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;" because, as thy days, so thy strength shall be." Sanctified afflictions do not harden the heart, but soften it with the holy unction of peace, and contentment with the will of God.

The faithful mariner, nearing the haven of his

* Recollections of a Discourse preached at Blackheath burch, Sunday evening, the 27th Aug.

LAYS OF A PILGRIM.

No. XLI.

BY MRS. H. W. RICHTER. (For the Church of England Magazine.)

THE GARDEN.

A GREEN and silent spot, where thought
Expatiates glad and free,

From the dull care that time has brought,
From the dread ills that sin has wrought,
From earth-bound vanity!

A flowery spot, where scent and hue
Their varied charms combine;
Where diamond sparks of early dew,
And nature's changes ever new,

All jewell'd pomp outshine.

A leafy spot, where shadows sweep
O'er the smooth turf and velvet lawn;
Where fairies may their revels keep
When starry hours bring silence deep,

Ere breaks the glimmering dawn.
How slowly there old winter lowers,

Where autumn's beauty lingers still; There comes young spring with early flowers, And summer's breeze and sunny hours Their varied rounds fulfil.

From "Church Missionary Society Jubilee Tracts."

O ever through life's care and grief,
The war of outrage and of wrong,
The weary heart in seasons brief
In lovely nature finds relief

Her flowery realms among.

Though restless toil and sordid care,
And things of earth the heart engage,
Yet breezes of celestial air

From long-lost Eden wander there,
From man's lost heritage.

Miscellaneous.

WOMAN IN THE BUSH.-It is true that, though woman must in every English home play an important part, it is not in "the bush" a prominent one. Her domestic duties are so engrossing that if she had the power she has scarcely time to stir abroad: of society, as we understand the word, there is little or none. The management of her household affairs requires constant attention; and the difficulty of finding tolerable servants, especially female servants, and of keeping them when found, reduces her to perform offices to which she had previously been unaccustomed. But then (some readers may perhaps anxiously ask) are the hardships and privations such that no man of feeling could bear to expose his wife to them, and that no man, without culpable selfishness, could ask any woman to share with him? Not to trifle with the impatience of such a questioner, I answer at once, certainly not. It must be remembered that the sting of all such inconveniences in a civilized country lies in the mortification which they inflict on our pride: they are painful, not in themselves, but because they are considered degrading. When the performance of almost menial services meets applause instead of a sneer, when it is no proof of want of refinement, nor even of poverty, the hardship vanishes at once. Where is the great difference between watering a flowerbed and dusting a drawing-room, if we remove ourselves from the conventional influence of the notions which assign one task to the housemaid, and the other to the lady of the mansion? As long as the settler went to his station with a hope of returning to England in a few years with a competent fortune, it was natural that he should defer the intention of establishing himself till he had affluence and a more luxurious home to offer; but now, that he must make "the bush" his home, his lot would indeed be hard if he were doomed to toil on in solitude and selfishness, uncheered by objects of affection, whose smile might repay his labours, with no other motive than to supply his own daily wants, or amass wealth for he cares not whom. To all, who have not more than common resources in themselves, the solitude of "the bush" is at times very oppressive. To relieve this in some degree, it is not unusual for settlers to enter into partnership, and unite their establishments at the same station. But the difficulties of making any such arrangement with a prospect of mutual satisfaction are obviously great; and the difficulties of carrying it out are still greater. Even in the full tide of prosperity it is not easy to maintain harmony between the parties: in the ebb of adversity it is scarcely possible; and such agreements are generally of short duration. It is usually remarked in the colony that single men are apt to neglect their affairs, being glad to avail themselves of every pretext for leaving home in quest of society; or, if they remain there, they are often driven to seek solace in intemperance; and the usual homely practical advice given

to a young man as soon as he has got a little settled, and "sees his way before him," is to take a wife as speedily as possible. My own observation tends to confirm the wisdom of this advice. I have always remarked that the happiest homes in the interior of Australia were those over which a lady presided; and the most contented, and usually the most prosperous settlers, must be looked for among those who in woman's love have found a balm for disappointment, and the noblest stimulus to exertion. But is the prospect of the bush, after all, so very alarming? How much can taste and refinement do to dignify and embellish the settler's home! It is far from uncomfortable it has not been improved perhaps so much as it might have been; for the frequent changes in the government regulations respecting the bush have shaken the settler's confidence in his tenure, and be is unwilling to lay out capital on improvements which promise no return; but it is not inconvenient, and woman's taste may make it elegant. As the nests of certain birds are distinguished by the delicacy of their texture and materials, so woman's home betrays itself, even in the bush of Australia. The garden, too, admits of improvement, and affords an agreeable out-of-doors occupation. At all stations there is an excellent kitchen-garden: the native fruits are few : the principal is a sort of currant, too acid to be generally popular; but the fruits of England and many other countries may be naturalized with ease: the vine will flourish in most parts of the colony. I have seen some good flower-gardens very far in the interior; and, as leisure increases, the cultivation of these may be more carefully attended to. The flora of Australia is very beautiful and delicate, though truth compels me to own that Australian flowers have little perfume. The hours in the bush are early, but the wife has no difficulty in keeping the hours of her husband; and what resident in Australia would not be amply repaid for the exertion of early rising by the beauty and delicious coolness of the dawn? The evenings, after the business of the day is over, are sometimes rather long, for there is little or no twilight at the antipodes; but this time is precious in the bush, as it affords leisure for an important duty in the settler's life-the duty of keeping up whatever accomplishments and cultivated tastes he has brought with him, and, most of all, a taste for reading. Let a young married couple beware lest the novelty of bush life, its toils and cares, or the charms of each other's society, wean them from those habits of mental cultivation which are more easily lost than acquired. The time will come when they will bitterly lament, for their own sakes, having neglected any means they once possessed of giving interest, variety, and even dignity to a pastoral life. The regret will be most severely felt for the sake of their family, when they have children of an age to be taught. The time will soon come when they must decide on the alternative of an early separation from their children (if indeed they have the means of sending them to school, and persons to whom they can entrust them), or, on the other hand, of seeing them grow up at home with hardly better manners and breeding than those of a shepherd or stock-keeper.-Haygarth's Bush-life in Australia.

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