amidst all to abound. A lady of much respectability visited her this day, who had been for some time past in the country, and who, I afterwards found, was from a child attached to Susan―the meeting, the consequent anxious inquiry after her health, and the parting, were alike affectionate, condescending, and beautiful. It suspended for a few moments my interview with Susan, but we had afterwards our usual conversation and fellowship; and as I was about to take my leave, she held my hand more earnestly than usual, and said, "I hope I shall not die here—I would not like to die in this place." I at once said, this is what I feared, Susan, as it is inseparable from the infirmary, and had I known it. sooner, you should have been removed, as there are a few Christian friends around you, who, I am confident, will esteem it a pleasure to contribute to your support, if you will but lean on them, and trust to my exertions on your behalf. Her trust was elsewhere, I have no doubt, but she seemed satisfied, and in a moment glanced to everything connected with her removal, arranging the whole with her usual precision, expressing only the wish to be taken back, if possible, into her own house. I undertook to fulfil her wishes, and once more departed, her heart apparently not a little lightened.

Susan's case was unquestionably one of a peculiar character. Most evidently she possessed that claim upon Christian sympathy which the Divine Redeemer has, in marvellous condescension, been pleased to place on a footing with that which we owe to him. It was impossible to know Susan intimately, and not be satisfied that she had the "Spirit of Christ," and these words of the Saviour may dictate to every follower of Him to the end of the world, what is duty in such a case- "Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me:". -or the commentary upon them by the Apostle-" Whoso hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother have need and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in

The church, as a public body, having allowed half-acrown a-week towards her support, had done its duty; the propriety of a Church, as such, giving more, seems questionable, but the streams of private, neighbourly, and Christian benevolence, ought to be opened and directed towards such peculiar objects. In every church, it is to be hoped, there

are individuals who would esteem it a privilege, and a very high pleasure, to smooth the rough lonely pillow, and comfort the self-denied heart of such as Susan;-one who, we are constrained to believe, has now joined the throng represented as around the throne of God and of the Lamb, clothed in a pearly robe of heavenly white, the palm of victory in her hand, and sings, in no feeble strain, the song she had learnt, and " as she could," had sung-“Unto him that loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father, to Him be glory and honour, dominion and power, world without end."

Several deaths had taken place in the ward of the infirmary in which Susan lay, one on each side of the bed she occupied; and two of them of the same disease with which she was afflicted. Not to feel in such circumstances were more than human; but it was not the death which shocked her, it was the accompaniments, the recollection of which afterwards. made her shudder. She was removed, therefore, as soon after the intimation she gave as possible, to her old residence, then occupied by another, who became her nurse, and Susan the lodger, where she remained till her very peaceful death.

To the last she evinced the same unbounded faith in God her Saviour. Her conceptions of the person and glory of the Redeemer were exceedingly exalted. This topic was a distinguishing feature in the theology of the divines among whom she was in earlier years nurtured, and tended greatly to give strength and power to her singularly elevated Christian character. Deep worshiping awe, assimilating to that of those, of whom we read, they "cast their crowns before the throne," seemed to overshadow her mind when she spoke of Immanuel. He was to her, not only the "chief among ten thousand," but pre-eminently "God over all-the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the Mighty God, the everlasting Father-the great I AM." Whatever kindness was done to her, she received as from Him; but was never wanting in grateful expressions of thanks to all who were instrumental in administering to her comfort; there was a dignity, spirituality, and propriety in this feeling which no words can express.

She entertained a great regard and affection towards her pastor, who so long attended her in her illness. His temporary absence was a subject of much regret; and as her end drew near, and when the thought that she might not again

see him on earth became painful, it always merged into the meeting "before the throne." When told of his return, the feeling it gave rise to did not want for appropriate expression, and although then very weak, and suffering beyond what I had yet seen, she appeared for a moment to forget her pain, while her spirit rose in benediction to Him to whom she was accustomed to go, sorrowing or rejoicing.

In this weak, but latterly not apparently suffering state, she remained for several days, and during the last two, took no sustenance, except a little wine; she scarcely ever after opened her eyes, and all articulation was gone. Arranging, previous to this, respecting her funeral, she said, she cared little about her body, and if the physician who had so long attended her expressed a wish to that effect, it might be opened-this, however, was not done. A parish coffin, she said, would do for her, but neither was this permitted—the lady already alluded to as her earliest and constant friend, and the gentleman living in her neighbourhood, who so respected her, paid their last tribute to her memory by ordering her a richly-furnished coffin, and paying every expense attending the funeral. A favourite desire was that she might be buried in Oldham-street churchyard, and there her dust reposes. So far did the loving kindness of her God and Saviour follow his aged handmaid-and thus was she brought "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes," there to rest until the morning when what was sown in corruption shall rise in incorruption, not having "spot or wrinkle, or any such thing.""Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord."

PRIMITIVE LIBERALITY.-1 COR. XVI. 2.

GENUINE Christianity produces the same effects in every age of the Church, and the power of the Gospel is evinced in the walk and conversation of the true Christian, whether at Corinth in the apostolic age, or in Britain in the age in which we live.

I have been led to these remarks from the following interesting circumstances, which came under my own immediate observation:

On Whit-Monday, 1836, the children of the Sundayschool in connexion with St. Paul's, Vauxhall, were assembled in the chapel, and examined in the presence of the con

gregation. After the examination, a poor man—a working millwright, came forward, and requested the minister to accept the contents of a box, stating that he and his wife attended the chapel, and his daughter, a little girl about ten years old, the Sunday-school; that he was not able to pay for a seat at church, but that he felt it was his duty to do something for the furtherance of the Gospel, and had therefore laid by once a-week a penny or two-pence, according as he was able, in a little box. The minister was at first unwilling to receive the money, which amounted to 11s. 6d., all in pence and halfpence, and having remonstrated with him, sent for his wife, and ascertained that, when in employment, he laid by, on the first day of the week, in store as God had prospered him. Neither want of employment nor sickness could induce him to violate this sacred treasure: the only difference these circumstances made was, that nothing was added to the store; but it was not diminished. Shall I mention his name? I think I must. It is

I send the narrative of this interesting fact, trusting the noble example will be followed by rich and poor.—J. R. B.

NEGLECT OF PUBLIC WORSHIP.

[From the Report of the Agent appointed to visit at their own dwellings the Scottish working and poorer classes resident in Liverpool.]

I ONE day entered a house, the door of which stood invitingly open, and which I had been told was the residence of a Scottish family. A woman, evidently of the more respectable class of working people, was ironing clothes, which hung, white as snow, round a blazing fire, in every stage of the dressing and drying process. Between the door and the table on which she was at work, a chair was placed on which I sat while I put my queries, she going on with her ironing. Everything around the room bespoke smiling cheerful comfort; her husband was an operative of the best class, and they had a numerous little family; every child fit for schoolreading, and some writing. All, in short, went smoothly, and to me at least pleasantly, till I asked, with less hesitation than perhaps I ever did, "What church do you usually attend?" She stopped for a moment, laying the iron on the stand "Well, sir, it's a good while since I have been in any church." I had been used to such replies, and said, smiling,

"but how long? perhaps a year or two!"-believing, that in her case, even this could not be possible. She had gone on with her work, but again she stopped, and letting go the iron, suddenly slipped into a chair, which stood at the other side of the table, and resting her elbows upon her knees, and covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears, even to sobbing. When the feeling had in some degree subsided, I apologised for what I had so inadvertently done-“ No, sir, no, it's not that," she replied, "it's not that-it is, that I have been two-and-twenty years and not within a church-door-and when I think how different it was with me once-for my father's house was a house of prayer, morning and evening. But I married very young, and immediately after marriage left Scotland for England-the change at first, and afterwards the young family, became excuses, but I have no excuse." Providence, too, had been kind to her-her husband was 66 one of the best of men, and in all that time never lost a day's work." "She had lived upon the mercies of God, but had never acknowledged Him in them.”

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM THE CURATE OF A COUNTRY TOWN.

August 1, 1836. DISTRICT Visitors, like all others, need instruction, suggestions, cautions, or encouragements; and I therefore, rather hastily, avail myself of an opportunity to throw in my mite, trusting that it may, through God's blessing, be rendered useful, either in the way of foundation, or a stone in the building in other neighbourhoods.

I have for two or three years adopted the plan of District visiting, and found it to answer even far above my expectation. I have been much favoured in regard to the efficiency, though not the number of visitors, as they are those who are not content with merely leaving, or even reading, a tract at the house they visit, but are, happily, disposed as well as qualified to reprove, exhort, instruct, and to direct the inquirer, by the "old paths," to the Saviour. I am convinced that, if apparently of no benefit to their neighbours, their labour has been of essential benefit to their own souls; and thus they who watered others have been watered themselves. I earnestly wish I could obtain a few