be paid, they brought in a plentiful supply. He was appointed guardian to the family of the deceased king of Tanjore, and employed repeatedly as a mediator between the English government and the country powers. The last twenty years of his life were spent in the education and religious instruction of children, particularly those of poor parents, whom he maintained and instructed gratuitously; and at his death willed his property to the mission at Tanjore. His success was uncommon. is said he reckoned two thousand persons savingly converted by his means.

It

After this apostolical and venerable man had laboured fifty years in evangelizing the Hindoos, so sensible were they of the blessing, that his death was considered as a public calamity. An innumerable multitude attended the funeral. The Hindoo rajah "shed a flood of tears over the body, and covered it with a gold cloth." His memory is still blessed among the people.

The following beautiful anecdote is related by Bishop Middleton, of this exemplary soldier of the cross:— "When lying apparently lifeless, Gericke, a worthy fellow-labourer in the service of the same society, who imagined the immortal spirit had actually taken its flight, began to chant over his remains a stanza of the favourite hymn which used to soothe and elevate him in his life-time. The verses were finished without a sign of recognition or sympathy from the still form before him; but when the last clause was over, the voice which was supposed to be hushed in death took up the second stanza of the same hymn, completed it with distinct and articulate utterance, and then was heard no more."

35. JEREMIAH EVARTS.

THIS eminent and holy man, so well known and beloved by every friend of missions, died a triumphant death.

When nearly exhausted, he expressed with great tenderness his affection for his Saviour; and soon after broke out into rapturous expressions: "Praise himpraise him-praise him in a way which you know not of."

Some one said to him, "You will soon see Jesus as he is, and know how to praise him.”

He replied, "O wonderful-wonderful-wonderful glory! We cannot comprehend-wonderful glory! I will praise him! I will praise him! Wonderful-glory -Jesus reigneth!"

36. REV. W. THORP.

"More I would ask, but all my words are faint;
Celestial Love, what eloquence can paint?

No more by mortal words can be express'd;

But vast eternity shall tell the rest."-MRS. Rowe.

WHEN this venerable servant of Christ was brought down to the bed of death, alluding to his feebleness, he said, "I have been forty-six years a preacher of the Gospel. I have travelled, on an average, several thousand miles a year; I have preached for many public institutions; I have met old friends-revived old recollections-smiled and wept at the varied memory of the past-all buoyancy, energy, and health-and now, what am I? how feeble! how incompetent!" He then added, with a manner which no description can convey, "Verily, verily I say unto thee, when thou wast young thou

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girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest.' But it is not so now; no, no,- When thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.' Ah, this is very humiliating!—but it must be endured; and it is well—it is well! It is my earnest and constant prayer that I may be kept from complaint."

On the point of submission he was most tenderly conscientious. He seemed to dread nothing so much as a spirit of complaint and resistance.

On one occasion he said to a friend, with evident feeling and anxiety, "I am afraid I murmur in my affliction; I wish to be submissive, and to be preserved from complaint, and to bear patiently whatever my heavenly Father may require of me.'

It was remarked by Mrs. Thorp, who had entered the chamber, "You don't murmur; I am sure no one ever bore affliction with more resignation and patience than you do."

"Ah!" said the sufferer, "I caught myself one day saying, 'O that I had wings like a dove!—then would I fly away, and be at rest;' and this was not right. I ought to suffer without a wish of my own, and to be entirely resigned to God."

His friend replied, "I would remind you that David made use of those very words."

True," he said; "but David did not always please God; our desire should be to yield up ourselves to the will of God, whatever that will may be."

Once, when alone with his partner, he said, "We are all going-and you will go; but I shall see you with Jesus." Then, turning his brightening eye impressively on her, he said, "Mark me! I shall know you at the resurrection."

On one occasion he appeared to be in deep musing; he was evidently lost to all surrounding objects, and

He

did not know that there was any one in the room. raised his eyes with an expression of solemn tenderness which was most striking and affecting, and said,—

"Sweet the moments, rich in blessing,

Which before the cross I spend."

During the last four weeks of his life he dictated a letter every week to the Church at this place, which was read at the weekly prayer-meeting that had been specially appointed to be held on his behalf. For the uniform kindness of his beloved friends at Castle-Green, he always expressed the warmest and most grateful estimation; and these last communications of pastoral affection were in admirable keeping with the simplicity and evangelical unction that distinguished his ministry. The letters are eminently spiritual and consolatory, and the last he dictated was written within ten hours of his decease. It was on the subject of prayer; and before it was read to the little praying company assembled together, their supplications and intercessions for him were no longer needed. The Church at Jerusalem was praying when Peter, their imprisoned pastor, was set at liberty; but a nobler liberty had been granted to this beloved minister-when his flock were gathered together for prayer, death, like the angel of God, had gently touched him, the fetters of mortality had burst asunder, and his happy spirit was conducted "through the gate to the city," the new Jerusalem above.

His son was standing near him about eleven o'clock on the night of his departure, and heard him say, musingly, "A funeral procession; there they are all in mourning, and surrounding the open grave."

"Who?" asked his son.

He added, "The ministers, the deacons, members of the Churches."

"But," his son interrupted, "you do not see this."

He instantly raised his face, his eye beaming with that look of solemn energy which generally preceded any remarkable expression, "No, my son, not literally, but in the mind's eye-it is coming, it is coming!"

"Do you fear it, father?”

He instantly answered, with remarkable emphasis, and with a strength of tone which produced astonishment, "No, no, I have no reason: does not He live?"

To one of his daughters he said, “You now see your father in the swellings of Jordan. God is dividing the waters to form a passage for me-and beyond is the promised land, into which I am about to enter."

A few minutes before his departure he said, “Hope !" His now bereaved widow added, "As an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil."

He replied, "Yes, yes," and immediately expired.

37. BISHOP BEDELL.

MR. SIMPSON introduces, by way of contrast to the death-bed scenes of Chesterfield, Voltaire, Rousseau, and other such unhappy characters, the death-bed scene of the learned and excellent Bishop Bedell, whom he calls the scourge of ecclesiastical corruption, a pattern for prelates and clergymen, and the glory of the Irish hierarchy.

After a life spent in the most laborious service of his Divine Master, when he apprehended his great change to draw near, he called for his sons, and his sons' wives, and spake to them, at several times, as he was able, the following words:

"I am going the way of all flesh: I am ready to be offered up, and the time of my departure is at hand. Knowing, therefore, that shortly I must put off this