dwelling, and manifested the strongest sense of his worth, and liveliest gratitude for his past services. Never have I known eulogy more eloquent than that which I read in their tearful eyes, and whispering voices, as they stood silently waiting, or anxiously conversing, before the door, and beneath the windows. Their sound was distinctly heard in the chamber, as I stood with his friends beside his bed. It at length seemed to arouse him, and he opened his eyes. "What is this?" said he.

"The people have come from meeting," it was replied, "and are anxious to know how you do."

66

They are kind souls," replied the old minister; and, turning his eyes around as if looking for some one, he called me by name. I bent over him, and he took my hand. "Go to them, my young friend; tell them I thank them for all their fidelity and kindness. Carry them my last farewell. Bid them remember my last instructions; and God bless them."

I went to the door, and beckoning to the several groups, collected them together, and

spoke to them as I was desired. When 1 returned to the chamber, the good old man was taking leave of his friends, and to each of them giving his blessing. He called for me. He was exhausted, and could no more speak audibly. His lips moved, and I thought I would have given worlds to know what they would utter. After a few moments' silence, he exerted himself again, and we understood him to ask that there might be prayers. I kneeled down, with his hand still in mine, and commended his spirit, in such words as I was able, to the great Father of mercy. It was a solemn moment. There was a silence and awe like that of the tomb, interrupted only by the laborious breathing of the dying man, and the low voice of youthful supplication. When I had ended, he pressed my hand, but said nothing. We feared that he would not speak again; but it was permitted us to hear his last words distinctly. For, when something had been said respecting the good man's support in death, he spoke out audibly, "THE TESTIMONY OF CONSCIENCE, AND THE MERCY OF GOD." This was his last

effort. We stood silently watching for his departing breath, when, as the sun was going down, its beams forced their way through an opening amid the branches of the thick trees which grew before the windows, and fell full upon his face. A smile came over his countenance, and, before it had entirely passed away, he ceased to breathe. I remembered his conversation on the preceding evening, and rejoiced at his quiet departure.

When it was known that their pastor was actually dead, all those of his parishioners who had not retired to their homes, pressed into the house to take a last look of one whom they had loved and reverenced so much. Not a word was spoken by any one in the chamber of death. The silent gaze, the tearful eye, and the cautious tread, evinced the impression which was upon every heart, and the feeling of awe with which the sleep of the patriarch was contemplated.

My own feelings during these scenes it is impossible for me to describe. But I have always felt that I had reason to thank God for appointing me to open my ministry

in so singular and affecting a manner. The serenity of aged piety, and the peace of a christian death-bed, gave me impressions which helped still more to prepare me for my work. I am certain that for years this day was present almost constantly to my mind, and endowed me with courage, fortitude, and spirituality, which I might not otherwise have attained.

CHAPTER XI.

It was in less than a year after this, that I found myself occupying the place of that venerable old man, of whose last hours I had been so unexpectedly the attendant. It may readily be conceived, that with no ordinary feelings I took possession of the pulpit where I had heard the expiring sounds of his ministry, and seated myself in the room where he had studied, and at the table upon which he had leaned and written for half a century. To my ardent view, every thing about me was sacred. I fancied there was inspiration in the very walls, and that I in

haled a good spirit from the very air in which the holy man had breathed. And while I studied in his books, and dipped my pen in his inkstand,-while I read from his Bible in the family circle which he had left, and in which I was a boarder, and stood up to offer their daily devotions on the spot which his prayers had consecrated, I am sure that I felt a glow in my heart which more important circumstances have oftentimes been incapable of producing ;but which was nevertheless highly favourable toward forming a frame of thought and feeling suited to my vocation. Indeed it

rarely happens to a young man to begin the arduous work of the ministry under happier auspices. The circumstances of my lot and education had been so ordered, as constantly, to excite and keep fresh the religious sentiment. It had not been suffered to become, as in many, drowsy and dull; but had been stirred and animated by the frequent remarkable scenes through which I had passed. The manner of my introduction to my parish, was calculated to revive and strengthen in no common degree, all