and also with her pencil. I think music and drawing are two of the finest accomplishments that can be desired, and such as will not fail to be both instructive and useful. Music is one of the highest engagements of heaven, and surely that which engages the lofty seraphs of the skies, is worthy of our most assiduous cultivation and drawing is calculated to inspire the mind with noble and lofty sentiments of the dignity, majesty, and character of the great Creator. I should much like you and Amelia to go to Ebbw Vale, and take some sketches. If ever I felt a sense of my littleness, and of the Divine majesty, it was when I walked amidst its elevating scenes. And as I desire to inspire dear Miss Amelia with a glowing admiration of HIM of whom Pope writes when he says

These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good;
Almighty, Thine, this universal frame!
Thyself how wondrous then !'

"As to French and German, I care bu tlittle for anything more than the rudiments of either of them; but as she has made some progress in French, it would be as well to abandon German, and devote more time to history, in which I wish Amelia to be especially accomplished."

Thus, Mr. Sadgrove continued to give the necessary instructions for the future. Mrs. S. was present, and heard all, but said nothing, as she was not yet fully resigned to the "odd arrangements. After the needful preparations were made, and supper ended, the servants were called in, as usual, for the evening devotions. Mr. S. read the twenty-third Psalm; Miss Brooks read the last chapter of Ecclesiastes, with Amelia at her side. When this was done, the sincere proprietor of Firfield Hall knelt in prayer to God. And, O! how fervid were his utterances for Mrs. S., and family, and household. His prayer embraced them all. The blood of Christ, and the full and complete atonement effected thereby, seemed to be the centre and ground of his supplications. A more truly evangelical prayer could not have been offered; nor did he omit to implore the aid and influence of the Holy Spirit as needful to effect the salvation of those in whom he felt the deepest interest, and for whose present and eternal welfare he so earnestly supplicated.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

IF

STRAIGHT TO HEAVEN.

FI die," said William White, "I go straight to heaven." To die, is sometimes dreadful; but, to die in the Lord, is safe, and sometimes very delightful. I was preaching the other night, and the Christian's death-bed came before my mind in a moment, like this: I said, death may make a terrible noise in knocking the old case to pieces; and the dust and confusion may be so thick that the state of the soul can hardly be discovered; but, within, where JESUS is, it must be peace, and to the redeemed spirit, the prospect must be rich and transporting, causing that soul secretly, if not vocally, to exclaim, "Oh, JESUS! let me fly; and to thy kingdom come.'

In commencing that discourse, Watts's precious words rolled through my memory with much feeling,

I was led to contemplate both the trials and the triumphs of the Christian's heart of the first, I have had many; of the last, I hope I have had a few; but devoutly do I pray that at the end, "the holy triumphs of my soul, may death itself outbrave :" &c., &c.

James Dawson's memoir of William White, in "Primitive Mag.," I read solemnly; he died a young man, and in full harness, and the following finish of his memoir I much commend to all who read these "CHEERING WORDS." The writer says:

We have intimated that the first symptoms of the disease were experienced on Saturday; but with what rapid strides did death approach! Yet he did not come armed with vengeance, but to take God's beloved child to the place where he longed to be, to lead him from mortality to life, and to lands where brightly bloom immortal flowers. And when he stood on the brink of this world, heaven shed comfort over him, and eternity put on its

gentlest, most pleasing, and most winning look. His pain at times was acute; yet even then he found the consolations of the Gospel to smooth his uneasy bed. When he spoke of recovery he always associated with it the opportunity of preaching Christ. When some one expressed to him the hope that he might be spared to go to his new station, Doncaster, he remarked, "I wish to live to preach Jesus, and I hope to see hundreds of souls converted." But on the Wednesday it became painfully apparent that he was becoming much weaker. Yet he was still happy in the Lord, as he had been from the beginning of his affliction. On this day we had left his room for a short time, when a messenger came for us, saying, that Mr. White desired to see us. When we returned he remarked, "Ah, brother Dawson, I wish to tell you how happy God has made me! Ah, how happy I am! how happy I am!" Neither he, nor any of his friends, at this time, thought death was so nigh. We remarked, "Keep yourself as composed as possible; and we who know your manner of life can have no fear of your death, if God should see fit to take you to himself." Raising his hand, with emphasis he remarked, "If I die, I go straight to heaven-straight to heaven." this gracious visitation of the Lord the preparation of grace for the conflict, which, although unknown to us, was so near at hand? This was about six o'clock. About half-an-hour after this, we were alone with him, when, with great earnestness, he said, "Brother Dawson, I am dying." Was it so? Yes; from the unfathomed shades and viewless spheres of eternity, came a sweet voice, unheard by other ears, saying unto him, "I have prepared your mansion-home, and am come to receive you to myself, that where I am you may be also." Yes; his loving Saviour, in whose cause he had so zealously laboured, was come to lead him through the valley of death, to bid him welcome to heaven, and to say unto him, "Well done, good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." With deep affection he committed his wife and infant son to God, and exhorted his partner to love Jesus and to meet him in heaven. It was deeply painful to see the young husband, cut down in his bloom, bidding

Ah! was

farewell to his young wife and infant child. Yet he and she bore it with Christian resignation. With bitter tears they said, "It is the Lord, and he cannot do wrong;" and meekly kissed the hand that held the rod. Now he neared his heavenly and everlasting home. "I am in the river," he exclaimed, “and it is very deep." His wife remarked, "There is rock;" and he replied, "I am on it." Now all fear was calmed, his faith was animated; hope and joy filled his soul, until it was wrapt in ecstasy. The peace, the joy, the bliss of dying manifestly surprised him. Full of joy he exclaimed, "What a pleasant thing it is to die! What a pleasant thing it is to die! I never thought dying was so pleasant a thing! I cannot give you to understand what a pleasant thing it is to die! Ah, how soft this bedis! How soft it is!" Now he experienced a severe paroxysm. He appeared to suffer much. When he was partially relieved, he remarked, "It is hard dying, physically I mean; but it is a pleasant thing to die! how soft this bed!" His end was now at hand. The mental and emotional which were so characteristic of him in life were strong in death. Longing to see his dear Redeemer, he said,

"Bring me to see Thee, my precious, sweet King,"

and attempted to say,

"In mansions of glory Thy praises to sing !"

but was unable. His desire was granted, his spirit passed away to be with Jesus, and to sing his praise in mansions of glory. Thus departed William White, June 15th, 1864, in the thirty-first year of his age, and the eighth of his ministry. He died as he lived, rejoicing in the Lord.

"Calm on the bosom of thy God,

Fair spirit, rest thee now!

E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.

Dust to its narrow house beneath!

Soul to its place on high!

They that have seen thy look in death,

No more may fear to die."

"WALKING IN LOVE."

A NOTE TO MR. JOHN DILLOSTONE, WHOSE VILLA STANDS ON WOODLAND GREEN, NEAR HAVERHILL, IN SUFFOLK.

A

FTER so long silence, good brother John, may I come to thy sweetly-scented garden-door with a few CHEERING WORDS? I hope you will not frown upon me, because I am little; nor be angry because I have been so long in coming. I am still as hard at work as ever; and the way (to my spirit) is still rough and hard. I cannot get on so fast as some people; nor can I proceed so well as I desire; but I shall not fail to call on you once in a while; unless you shut your door against me; or death call me into another country. I wish to know if you have commenced to build your gallery yet? If not, and the lack of means prevent you, I would beseech all Christian people to be kind to your cause, and send you aid without delay. Could they see your clean and comfortable chapel, standing so meekly in that quiet corner, shaded so softly by the trees; could they look in some lovely Sunday morning, as my faithful brother stands up to read the first hymn; could they hear the dear saints singing"The waves of care may darkly bound,

And buffet till our strength outworn,
We stagger, as they gather round;

All shattered, weak, and tempest torn;
But there's a LIGHT HOUSE for the soul,
That beacons to a stormless home;

It safely guides, through roughest tides,

It shines! It saves! "Thy Kingdom Come!"

Could they look up at brother Murkin as he reads his text"Fear not, little flock; it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom;" could they hear him preach of that kingdom, and of the believer's happiness there; could they witness the need there is, that you should gather in the cottager's children, and instruct them in things moral, evangelical, and spiritual-as the Lord might help you-I do feel certain there is not a Christian under heaven but would rise up and resolve to send the little