till the rough stones and gravel tore all the skin and flesh upon my breast, and (as I thought) covered me with blood. Indifferent, however, about this, and perceiving I advan ced a little, I continued to strive and squeeze with more violence than ever, till at last I got safely through. As soon as I stood upon my feet on the inside, an invisible hand clothed me in a long white robe; and as I turned round to view the place, I saw a goodly company of saints, among whom was my brother, all dressed in the same manner, partaking of the Lord's Supper. I sat down in the midst of them, and the bread and wine being administered to me, I felt such joy as no mortal can express. I heard a voice call me by name, saying I was wanted at home. My joy was so great and overcoming, that it soon broke the bonds of sleep, and made me start up in bed, singing the high praise of God.

The Time to Begin.

ONE afternoon, in the Autumn of 1839, I rode several miles to visit a family in a romote part of my parish. The mother, a son, and a daughter, were professedly pious. During the interview which I had with the mother-the other members of the family being absent, except two or three quite small children- various Christian duties were presented by one and the other, as subjects of conversation. At length the relation of parents to their children was spoken of. The mother evidently felt the importance of the subject. She was apparently endeavoring to train her children for the "skies." One question after another was proposed and answered. Among other things, the duty of praying for and with our children was referred to. "Mrs. M," inquired I, "Do you pray with your children?" The tear started in her eye as she replied, "Ah no, sir, with my oldest I do not. I know it is my duty to pray with all my children; and I am sensible that the influence of a mother's prayers is great and lasting; but I have not the confidence to go forward in the performance of this duty. This is just what they need; and the salutary effects of such an exercise would be felt and manifested by them, perhaps, when I should be in my

grave; but the cross is great. I have not resolution to take it up. We have no morning nor evening prayers," continued she, "in our family; and I never set the chairs about the table, to sit down and take our meals, but I think of it. My husband sometimes expresses a faint hope in the Savior, but he has never erected the family altar. Could I take my four oldest children into my chamber with me, and there wrestle with God for them, as did the mother of John Newton for her son, and as I trust I now Lometimes do for those little ones on the hearth, and for them all when in my closet alone, what a blessed thing it would be!" Her emotions nearly stopped her utterance, as she closed this sentence. "O, that I had begun with my oldest children when they were small," said she. "That is the time to begin." Yes, thought I, that is the time to begin.

Superficial Infidels.

SIR Isaac Newton set out in life a clamorous infidel, but, on a nice examination of the evidences of Christianity, he found reason to change his opinion. When the cele brated Dr. Edmund Halley was talking infidelity before him, Sir Isaac Newton addressed him in these or the like words: "Dr. Halley, I am always glad to hear you when you speak about astronomy, or other parts of the mathematics, because that is a subject you have studied, and well understand; but you should not talk of Christianity, for you have not studied it. I have; and am certain that you know nothing of the matter." This was a just reproof, and one that would be very suitable to be given to half the infidels of the present day, for they often speak of what they have never studied, and what, in fact, they are entirely ignorant of. Dr. Johnson, therefore well observed, that no honest man could be a Deist, for no man could be so after a fair examination of the proofs of Christianity." On the name of Hume being mentioned to him, "No, sir," said he, "Hume owned to a clergyman in the bishopric of Durham, that he had never read the New Testament with attention."

The Way to Settle Difficulties.

Two neighbors, (who were brothers by marriage,) had a difficulty respecting their partition fence. Although they had mutually erected a substantial fence four and one-half feet in height on the line separating the sheep pasture of one from the grain field of the other, yet the lambs would creep through the crevices and destroy the grain.

Each asserted it to be the duty of the other to chink the fence; after the usual preliminaries of demands, refusals, threats, challenges, and mutual recriminations, they resolued to try the glorious uncertainty of the law. They were, however, persuaded by their friends to the more amicable mode of submitting the defence to the final determination of a very worthy and intelligent neighbor, who was forthwith conducted to the scene of trouble, and in full view of the premises; each party in turn, in a speech of some length, asserted his rights, and set forth the law and the facts; at the conclusion of which the arbitrator very gravely remarked. "Gentlemen, the case involves questions of great nicety and importance, not only to the parties in interest, but to the community at large, and it is my desire to take suitable time for deliberation, and, also, for advisement with those who are learned in the law, and most expert in the customs of good neighbors; in the mean time, however I will just clap a billet or two of wood into the sheep holes;" and in ten minutes time, with his hands, he effectually closed every gap.

The parties silently retired, each evidently heartily ashamed of his own folly and obstinacy. The umpire has never been called upon to pronounce final judgment in the case-so the law remains unsettled unto this day

An Unclouded Sky.

IN the London Congregational Magazine, I met with the following passage-it is the closing scene of the life of Rev. T. Morell, and it breathes so sweetly the serenity of the dying christian, that the living christian must love the picture.

"Or the Sabbath morning previous to his death, ho Looked with much delight on the unclouded bright sky, saying, 'What a glorious Sabbath morning,' and then repeated a line of one of Doddridge's hymns, 'Show the oright world, and show it mine. In the course of the day, he made the following and similar remarks:-'Should this be the taking down of this clayey tabernacle, it has been a most merciful dispensation; there is a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' 'A cloud has never passed over my mind; Satan has never been permitted to harass me.' 'Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death. To his now mourning widow, he once said, on seeing her much cast down, 'to you I must propose the test which our Savior put to his disciples, if ye love me, you would rejoice because I go to the Father.' On Monday morning, the last day of his life, he appeared much revived, and heard the fourteenth chapter of John with great interest, remarking particularly the nineteenth verse, because I live, ye shall live also,' saying, 'that is sufficient, we need no other promise.' He went down stairs during that day, and no symptom indicated a change till towards the close of it: he did not retire, however, till late, but appearances soon showed that death was approaching. He remained perfectly sensible. To the oft repeated enquiry whether he felt pain, he replied, 'only oppression. Fear not, I am with thee,' was suggested to him; a faint smile lighted up his countenance, indicating at once, his possession of his faculties, and his enjoyment of the promise. Is it not a dark valley to you?" 'Oh no.' 'Your mind is calm? NOT A RUffle,' was his characteristic reply-Not a ruffle!-and with these, his last words, 'kept by the power of God, through faith,' ' in perfect peace,' he fell asleep,' and 'entered into his Joy.""

What a contrast is this to the bed-chamber of the dying Voltaire! You hear no half-stifled groan; you see no terror-stricken and trembling frame. Here is the peace that passeth all understanding. Here is the blessedness that the world knoweth not of. I know that few are thus ready to meet death as a child sinks to slumber on a moher's breast; when joy and peace are equally felt, and

you cannot say which emotion appears the fullest. But if such was the death, what was the life of him of whom we are reading. His biographer says:

"The secret of his calm and happy composure, was his habitual exercise of Christian faith; I do not deny that he was blessed naturally with a peculiar felicity of constitution and temperament; but this, of itself was far from being the sole cause of the 'perfect peace' which he habitually enjoyed. It arose partly from the firm and unhesitating manner in which he received the verities of the gospel; partly from his constantly realizing his own interest in the blessings they secured; and partly from his viewing every thing in connexion with God, and from the exercise of a child-like trust in his wisdom and goodness. I have been with him under various circumstances; amid some calculated to ruffle and annoy; in the midst of anxiety; in the death-chamber, and at the early grave of an only son; I have seen him on his own bed in extreme weakness, pain and danger; I always found the same man. Whatever was passing over the surface of his feelings, there was perfect peace' setttled in his soul. He took the promises of God as an angel would take them, or as a little child listens to the words spoken by its parent; he did not know what it was to doubt, or why Christians should be troubled in mind, since God had spoken, and spoken as he has !"

There is the secret of death. This child-like but angelic confidence arms the believer for the last struggle; it is this that scatters every cloud, lays every wave, and makes his end peace, who is stayed on God.

Our Blessings more than our Crosses.

CONSIDER that our good days are generally more in number than our evil days, our days of prosperity (such, I mean, as is suitable to our condition and circumstances) than our days of adversity. This is most certain, though most of us are apt to cast our accounts otherwise. How many days of (at least competent) health we enjoy for one day of grievous sickness! How many days of ease,