cultivated his taste for the fine arts. On | returning to England, in a delicate state of health, he studied some branches of natural philosophy, and the theory of medicine, which, in after life, was of the greatest service. The benevolence of his character was at the same time apparent, in his distribution of large sums to the necessitous.

On the death of his wife, Howard determined to leave England, distributed his furniture among the poorest housekeepers in the neighbourhood, and embarked in a Lisbon packet for Portugal. This vessel was taken by a French privateer, and his captors used him with great cruelty; for, after having kept him forty hours without food or water, he was carried into Brest, where he was confined in a castle, and afterwards in a dungeon. He was subsequently removed to Morlaix, and from thence to Carpaix, where he was on his parole of honour, owing to the humanity of the jailer. He there met with a person, who though an utter stranger to him, supplied him with clothes and money, expecting that he would one day or other be repaid. At length Howard was allowed to visit England, on his promise to return, should the British government refuse to liberate a French naval officer in exchange this arrangement was happily effected.

To the captivity Howard so unexpectedly endured, he attributed the direction of his mind to the distressed condition of the sick and imprisoned. In the hope of alleviating their sufferings, he resolved on another tour, and again fixed on France, through which he passed to Geneva, visiting many places on his

route.

he most zealously pursued the same course, seeking also to promote the spiritual interests of his fellow men.

Called in 1773 to the office of High Sheriff of the county of Bedford, he faithfully discharged his new duties. Not only did he pay great attention to the county jail, but to many other prisons; and received in consequence, the thanks of the House of Commons. Thus encouraged, he completed his inspection of the prisons in England, greatly improving the condition of many; and in 1775, after returning from a tour in Ireland and Scotland, he travelled into France, Flanders, Holland, and Germany.

During his absence, on one occasion, a very respectable looking elderly gentleman, with a servant, stopped at an inn very near his house at Cardington, in Bedfordshire, and entered into conversation with the landlord concerning him. He observed that characters often looked well at a distance which would not bear a close inspection, and that he had therefore come expressly to satisfy himself in reference to one of whom he had heard so much. Accompanied by the innkeeper, he examined the house, offices, and gardens, all of which he found in perfect order. He next inquired into Howard's conduct as a landlord, to which honourable testimony was borne; and he returned to the inn, having fully attained the object of his visit. This gentleman was Lord Monboddo.

In the course of one year Howard was much occupied in revisiting the prisons of the British isles; and during the preceding twelve months, he made a circuit on the European continent of 4465 miles. In less than ten years, he travelled, for the reform of prisons, 42,633 miles.

neglected, to visit the forsaken, and compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan is original: it is as full of genius as it is of humanity. It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of charity. Already the benefit of his labour is felt more or less in every country."

The love to man which Howard so remarkably displayed, arose from love to God. His last illness was caught, as he believed, in attending a young lady suffering from malignant fever, at Cherson in Tartary; and during his short but severe affliction, the sentiments he expressed and recorded, were those which had long influenced his mind. Thus he wrote on the cover of one of his memorandum books: "Lord, leave me not to my own wisdom, which is folly, nor to my own strength, which is weakness. Help

me to glorify thee on earth, and finish the work thou givest me to do; and to thy name alone be all the praise." The last of these devout aspirations is inscribed on the cover of the book, and beneath it, evidently written at a somewhat later period, are two short sentences, bearing his dying testimony to his belief in the doctrines, which had led him to place his firm and sole dependence for salvation, on the Rock of Ages. "Oh that the Son of God may not die for me in vain. I think I never look into myself but I find some corruption and sin in my heart. O God! do thou sanctify and cleanse the thoughts of my depraved heart." In the middle of a page of another book, still remaining in pencil, he traced in ink the following sentence in his notes of one of Dr. Stennett's sermons, strikingly characteristic

of his feelings at the near approach of his own dissolution:-" It is one of the

noblest expressions of real religion to be cheerfully willing to live or die, as it

of the cover of the book, he has written the following sentence, rendered doubly interesting from its being, in all probability, the last the hand of Howard ever traced:-"Oh that Christ may be magnified in me, either by life or death.'

He died on the 20th of January, 1790. A monument to his memory, of which there is an engraving at the head of this paper, appears in St. Paul's cathedral. The statue represents him in a Roman dress, holding in one hand a scroll of plans for the improvement of prisons and hospitals, and in the other a key, while he tramples chains and fetters

under foot.

On page 3 is a bas-relief equally characteristic. The epitaph it bears contains a sketch of his life, concluding with the words: "He trod an open but unfrequented path to immortality, in the ardent and unremitted exercise of Christian charity! May this tribute to his fame excite an emulation of his truly glorious achievements."

REFLECTIONS ON THE NEW YEAR.

CAN it be that another year has fled? With all its joys and trials, all its sins and duties, all its instructions and privileges-is it fled ? Yes, it is gone. It has terminated the lives of millions, and like an irresistible current, has borne them on to the grave and the judgment. It has gone. Like a dream of the night, it has gone!

Amid the rapids of time, there are few objects a man observes with less care and distinctness than himself. То one standing on the shore, the current appears to pass by with inconceivable swiftness; but to one who is himself gliding down the stream, the face of this vast extent of waters is unruffled, and he is not aware how rapidly the current bears him away. It is only by looking towards the shore, by discerning here and there a distant landmark, by casting his eye back upon the scenery that is retiring from his view, that he sees he is going forward. And how fast! The tall pine that stands alone on the mountain's brow, casts its shade far down the valley; while the huge promontory throws its shadow almost immeasurably on the plain below. It is but a few years, and I was greeting life's opening day. But

its meridian. To-day I look for those meridian splendours, and they are either wholly vanished, or just descending behind the evening cloud. I cannot expect to weather out the storms of this tempestuous clime much longer. A few more billows on these dangerous seas, perhaps a few days of fair weather are the most I can look for, before I am either shipwrecked, or reach my desired haven.

Why fly these years so rapidly? It is in anticipation rather than retrospect, that men put too high an estimate upon earthly things. I have to-day trodden on the place of my fathers' sepulchres. I have been playing with the willow and the cypress that weep over their dust. The generations of men dwell here. Yes, here they are. Those whom I have loved, and still love, and hope to love, are here. "The fashion of this world passeth away." The fair fabric of earthly good is built upon the sand. It rocks and falls under the first stroke of the tempest. "Man, at his best estate, is altogether vanity." It is well that it is so. Were it otherwise, we should put far off the evil day, and live as if we flattered ourselves with immortality on the earth. When the Duke of Venice showed Charles the Fifth the treasury of St. Mark, and the glory of his princely palace, instead of admiring them, he remarked, "These are the things that make men so loth to die."

a

On what rapid wings has this last year sped its course! How sure and certain an approximation to the close of this earthly existence! Every year adds to what is past, and leaves less to come. "What is your life? It is even vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." What is it when compared with the amount of labour to be accomplished, and the magnitude of the interests at stake? What is it compared with the facility with which it may be interrupted, and the ten thousand causes of decay and dissolution it is destined to encounter? What is it, compared with the ever-enduring existence to which it is an introduction ? How fugitive! how frail! Hardly has the weary traveller laid himself down to rest, when he is summoned away to pursue his journey, or called to his everlasting home. "We spend our years as a tale that is told." The flying cloud, the evanescent vapour, the arrow just pro