she silenced all doubts. During the last few hours of her life she suffered intensely, and her kind friend the clergyman was called to her bedside. She desired him. to pray that she might be instantly released by death; to which he replied, that he would pray that she might have patience given her to await the Lord's time, that her faith might not be overcome by the weakness of the flesh. He did so, and when they all rose from kneeling round the bed, the sufferer seemed to be dying. The clergyman left the room; but their united prayers were answered, for she gave no evidence of a single pang afterwards, but lying perfectly still for some minutes, with a smiling expression of peace on her countenance, she surrendered her spirit into the hands of her heavenly Father.

There was nothing remarkable about the circumstances of Mary Merton's life, or the manner of her death. In this Christian country, hundreds (I wish I could say all) of the better sort of poor are piously brought up; and hundreds are called to an early grave by lingering consumption, or other complaints. And yet as I gazed upon the silent corpse, which I did a few days after Mary's death, I could not help thinking that a useful lesson might be derived from her history, at least in one particular, which will be the more obvious when I allude to another case which has occurred to my mind, by way of comparison. In this same town of C--, where I am still a sojourner, the same minister of God, some weeks before he was called to visit Mary Merton, received an urgent appeal from the friends of a dying youth, to administer consolation and instruction during what were supposed to be his last hours. My friend hastened to the bedside, and on asking the young man how he felt, the answer was, "Not fit to die." And although this youth bore an excellent character for morality and amiability of every kind, was beloved by all who knew him, and by none so much as the family with whom he was most intimately associated, yet, on being taken by surprise from a state of health and enjoyment to a near view of eternity, he declared himself "not fit to die." About six hours after my friend's first interview with this awakened

sinner, he was called into eternity; and having scarcely ceased to cry aloud for mercy from the first moment, his friends were not left without hope on his sudden removal. I have said his friends were not without hope, because we know that God calls some at the eleventh hour to come unto Him and have everlasting life, and mortals dare not set bounds to his mercy: but I say it with caution; for what an awful thought, that the work, which in this instance seventeen years were allotted to perform, was crowded into the space of a few hours, while enfeebled by sickness and distressed with fears. But why was not this amiable youth as well prepared to die as Mary Merton? Was it not, that the latter had felt herself to be not her own, but bought with a price? that she had presented to God a living, holy, and acceptable sacrifice, and her good works were the fruits and evidences of faith in Christ, and conformity to his image, while she was seeking a house not made with hands, and looking forward to death as the gate of everlasting life? While the former had been neglectful of his God, careless of his Saviour, and had been moral and amiable from education, and habit, and natural disposition; but he had not looked beyond this world for happiness, and was contented with its approbation rather than his Maker's. Well might death come upon such a one as the king of terrors, and force him to exclaim, “1 am cut off in the midst of my days;" for this world he was leaving behind, and the next he had little thought of. But it may be said of this narrative also, here is nothing strange; hundreds die suddenly in the course of the year, and this is only one case among many. Alas! this is true; and it is also true, that mortals live carelessly on, not only as if sudden death, but death in any form, were unknown and unexpected. Thousands fall at their side, and ten thousand at their right hand, and they forget the possibility that the arrow of death may ever come nigh them. The daily register, the open grave, the slow procession, the tolling bell, the closed shutter, the sable garb, the mourners going about the streets, all these and many other signs of mortality constantly around us, are insufficient; and as the sight passes from our

VOL. XXVIII.

I

vision, and the sound dies away on our ears, each careless one listens with eager credulity to the tempting whisper, "Thou shalt not die.”

I now come to the principal lesson which was strongly imprinted on my mind, while considering the subject of these pages; and this is, the advantage which the progressing and confirmed believer, who has from a child known the Holy Scriptures, has, at the point of death, over him who learns for the first time the value of his soul, the preciousness of his Saviour, and the solemn realities of eternity, in the agonizing hour of hastily entering upon it. When we are about to commence a journey from our home to a distant part, do we not prepare for it some time beforehand, that when the hour arrives, we may be ready? Then how is it that we make so little provision for the journey we must all take at some time or other? A greater or less portion of time is given to each, in which to make our preparations; and we know not what will be the messenger, nor when the hour appointed to convey us to our long home. Some of my readers may not be unacquainted with the following story, which seems to me very much to the point I am now pressing. In the days when jesters were in use, a nobleman had occasion to change the one he had for another, and on dismissing him, gave him a staff, which he charged him never to part with, till he met with a greater fool than himself. The jester accepted the present and the condition: some time after, hearing his former master was ill, he craved permission to go and visit him, and was, after some difficulty, admitted, with his staff in his hand, into the sick chamber. “I am going a long journey," was the nobleman's first exclama"And when will you return?" inquired the jester. "Return! oh, never," replied his master. "Then, of course, you are prepared for this long journey ?" "Ay, that's the worst of it," said the nobleman; "I have scarcely thought of it at all." "Then," exclaimed the jester, "take back my staff, for I have at length found what I have been seeking ever since you gave it me—a greater fool than myself."

tion.

It is a favourite idea with many, that those who are

plucked, as it were, as a brand from the burning, at a late period of their lives, are greater monuments of the grace of God, and have more call for gratitude and love, than others; they have the solemn contrast before them of what they were, and what they now are, and the grace of God seems more rich to them by that contrast. And I would not fail to admire and wonder at, and be thankful to the God of all grace, who calls the sinner from darkness to light whensoever He will; and in such cases, when God is magnified, I will rejoice: but with regard to my own feelings, I cannot help entering yet more fully into the sentiment contained in one of Dr. Watts's Hymns, repeated to me by one of my Sunday scholars only last sabbath :

"To Thee, Almighty God, to Thee

Our childhood we resign;

'Twill please us to look back and see
That our whole lives were thine."

I will add only three short sentences from Scripture, which apply to all the different stages of life:— "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

"Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed thereto according to thy word."

"The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness."-From an early number of the "Christian Lady's Magazine." Sent by M. D.

WHAT IS THE BEST INTEREST OF THE WORKMAN?

Ir surely ought not to be a question of doubt in the minds of sensible workmen, whether the prosperity of the master, or his depression, most conduces to the advantage of the labouring classes. Of course, it must be better for them when the master thrives and succeeds, when his capital increases, when he grows rich and prosperous. Then he can increase his business, pay the wages regularly, produce more articles for sale, will receive more orders; and having good credit, will be able to execute them well and speedily. All this bespeaks a good state

His business
Any one who

of things for all who are concerned with him, for all his workmen, and their wives and families. When this goes on, all is as well as it can be in this mortal state. None can expect here to have all they could desire; for God in his providence has put a limit to his gifts, to all classes, and to every man living. If a different state of things arise, if any thing should make the master less prosperous, he is less able to employ, and to pay for, the labour of his men. They begin directly to suffer grievously but he cannot help it; he has less to give, because he receives less. His business, which is his wealth, has decayed; and he can do nothing else but contract all his operations. He must either send away some of his workmen, or pay them less. If he is a bankrupt, as it is called when he fails to meet his engagements, all is thrown into ruin. ceases, and all his men suffer with him. has been workman to a master when the master has failed, knows very well, that the trouble suffered by the one was fully shared by the other. The master's difficulties were difficulties to the men; the works which he was compelled to stop, were the works by which they lived; and for a time, at least, they were all without work and without wages. Now it is of no consequence what was the cause of the bankruptcy; the evil was, that it happened at all. It may happen from many different causes. It might be from one like this. Suppose the workmen to claim higher wages than the master can afford to give; more, that is, than what he gets from the works they do, besides paying expenses of machinery or implements. If he gives those wages, he begins to go down in the world. He is not gaining, but losing. The men may not know what he can give without loss; they generally do not quite know: but he knows very well, and he alone can know it perfectly. Now if this state of things goes on a little, the master becomes poorer, his capital wastes away. He cannot receive such orders as he did once. He cannot buy so much material, to pay for it. Without money, he cannot begin a new work. He has to decline some part of his business. It stands still. He dismisses some of his men, not being