you and gave himself for you;' that you are unworthy the Christian name, if you can look without concern on perishing sinners, in your streets, throughout your state, and over your country; and if you are reluctant to perform something like your part, towards extending the light of divine truth over the whole earth, and planting the institutions of the gospel in every land."

As a man, in all the walks of private life, he was peculiarly amiable; exhibiting, in a high degree, those virtues which cannot fail to endear the subject of them, to all with whom he may have intercourse. To a remarkable delicacy of feeling and high sense of propriety, he united that genuine politeness, which is the result of Christian sentiment and principle: those who were intimate with him, ever found him an interesting and pleasant companion and what is no slight commendation of him, those who knew him best, esteemed and loved him most.

He had a heart eminently form ed for friendship-alive to its sympathies, faithful to its claims, and attentive to its duties. As a husband and a father, he was the most kind, tender and affectionate-His highest earthly enjoyment he sought and found in the bosom of his family, and his life was an uniform display of conjugal affection and paternal kindness. His end was such as might have been expected that the end of such a man, and such a minister would be. During his long, painful, and trying illness, rendered more trying by his peculiar circumstances, no murmur, no complaint, escaped his lips. He was indeed, at first, greatly disappointed, when he found himself unable to proceed to his beloved charge, and expressed a wish to live, for the sake of his wife and children; but even this was in entire resignation to the will of his heavenly Father. When, a few days before his death, his friends

had flattered themselves and him that he was better, he desired a friend who was with him, to engage in prayer with him and his wife, and return thanks to God for any hope there might be of his recovery, and to ask that he might be raised up again-but he immediately added with much emphasis, "I desire it with entire submission to the Divine will." His sickness, as he himself frequently declared, appeared greatly blessed to him. He seemed daily to grow in meekness, humility, resignation, and every Christian grace;-to feel more and more of the power and consolation of religion, of the preciousness of the Saviour, and to renounce afresh every ground of reliance, but the merits and righteousness of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. His views of his own attainments as a Christian, were unaffectedly humble, When, on one occasion, he had, in conversation, spoken of himself as a Christian, he quickly added-"No, I did not mean that

the words of the publican become me better: I desire to die with his prayer, God be merciful to me a sinner,' upon my lips." Yet at the same time that his views of himself were so lowly, he was unusually free from all distressing doubts and apprehensions, and his hopes, founded on the great and glorious promises of the gospel, and the fulness and all sufficiency of his Redeemer, were bright and supporting. He was perhaps constitutionally afraid of death, and when attacked by bleeding of the lungs, discovered great alarm. But the fear of death, as well as its sting, was taken away; and he expressly declared, on the last day of his life, to her who rarely left his side-"I am dying-but I am not afraid to die; my trust is in the Saviour of sinners:" And on the Sabbath evening previous to his departure, he said, "I am a sinner; but a sinner hoping for heaven, through the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ: and

now I am resigned to go, and feel as if I should delight to join the glorified and happy beings that are there." He enjoyed the exercise of his reason, with only one or two interruptions of delirium, to his latest breath;-spoke to his wife the moment before he departed, and then gently fell asleep, without a struggle or a groan. "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lordthey rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."

We cannot close this brief tribute to his memory, without adding a few sentences from the letter of one of his flock, to his bereaved wife-" And can it be possible! that I shall never again hear that pleasing voice, which imparted so much instruction, and which so affectionately guided my erring feet, in the narrow path which conducts to eternal life! Yes, it is too true, it is hushed in death; but it yet speaketh in einphatick language, be ye also ready.-Dear pastor! his short, but laborious course, has terminated in a better world; but his luminous track still shines on the sight, and animates the efforts of all who knew him, and marshals them the way to heavenly glory."

FOR THE CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE. NOTES OF A TRAVELLER.

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(Continued from page 549.). Sunday, June 15.-Having received an invitation from friends, Mr. R. and family, to pass the day, and go to church with them, I was set down at the meeting house door, just after service commenced, by one of the hackney coaches, which pass almost hourly from London to Camberwell, where the family of Mr. R. reside. I heard a good, plain, sensible discourse from the clergyman, and after service went home with Mr. R. We visited, together, the same church in the afternoon, and in the

VOL. VII.-Ch. Adv.

evening they accompanied me to the chapel of Dr. Collyer, where I heard him deliver a kind of farewell sermon to his people, on account of a contemplated absence occasioned by ill health. He did not come up, by any means, to my expectations of him as a preacher. Though the occasion seemed to admit of it, there was nothing striking or interesting, either in his matter or manner. But I was, upon the whole, better satisfied with this Sabbath, than with any I have passed since leaving home.

Monday, June 16.-After spending the night and part of this morning with Mr. R.'s family, I left them with regret, but with the hope of seeing them again. I can with truth say, I have felt here more as if at home, than in almost any other place I have ever seen. The regular family devotions, the vidual to the other, the family reamiable deportment of every indi

spect to every religious object, were all delightful. I walked with two of Mr. R.'s sons to the Elephant and Castle, an inn about half way between Camberwell and London. Here I stepped into one of

the numerous hacks which were in waiting, I think I am within bounds when I say that seven hundred hacks and other carriages stop here daily. The very high rent of this house, is paid, I understand, by the booking of parcels, daily sent from it to all the neighbouring places. The price of booking is two pence for each parcel. On arriving in town, I went to the house of the British and Foreign Bible Society, located in a dirty lane called Earl street, near Blackfriar's bridge. The house, outside, has a very common appearance-this is perhaps as it should be-the inside, you know, contains a choice collection of curious editions of the sacred scriptures, and a vast amount of Bibles printed by the Society, in almost every important language. I felt a peculiar

C

glow of enthusiasm, on examining the different ware-rooms, in which thousands of Bibles in the different languages of the earth, were stored, and which were destined to cheer and enlighten many a heart, by their holy influence. I was particularly pleased with the copy of the Persian Testament, translated by Henry Martyn. After spending some time with the obliging librarian, and purchasing a copy of one of the Testaments, as a specimen for you to look at, I was introduced by Mr. R. into the committee room, where there was a meeting on some business. Lord Teignmouth was in the chair: he is a man of very venerable and amiable appearance, and presided without stiffness or much formality. There were a number of letters read from the agents of this vast religious charity, from various parts of the world, and some short speeches were uttered, all of which were very gratifying. After dining at a chop-house, I went to Newgate prison and to Smithfield, where poor John Rogers was burnt. This last is a large area, surrounded by houses, and is now used as a market for selling live cattle-I saw many hundreds while there. The heavy rustic walls and grated windows of Newgate, threw a chill over my mind, as I looked at them. Among the female convicts here, the benevolent efforts of Mrs. Fry have produced, you know, wonderful effects. Tuesday, June 17.-I spent the morning with my friend Mr. Gray, at the British Museum, in the examination of certain animals from America, with which I was familiar. In the afternoon, at half past six, I dined with Mr. Children, and met at the table several eminent scientifick men. A French gentleman, a botanist, with whom I fell in company last summer, in the western wilds of the state of New York, had just come to London, and was here. We were both

highly surprised and gratified to meet each other again, in another quarter of the globe. He is on his way to India-and asked me if we should meet again in Calcutta. The dinner at Mr. C.'s was in a peculiarly handsome style, and the party highly agreeable and instructive. From the table we adjourned to a meeting of the Linnæan Society, where I was introduced to Lord Stanley, the president, who is mild and conciliating in his manners, and is actively and zealously engaged in the cause of natural science. I saw here a number of eminent persons-Menzies, who accompanied Vancouver round the globe-Kirby, the interesting biographer of insects-and Dr. Prout, distinguished as a chemical annalist. Dr. P. was exceedingly kind, and showed me much civility. The society meets in the house formerly occupied by Sir Joseph Banks. The rooms were crowded with gentlemen, who had distinguished themselves in the various departments of literature and science. Before the society was organized, I was introduced to so many celebrated men, and we said a few words on so many different subjects, that I can now recollect little else than the general gratification which this evening afforded.

Wednesday, June 18.-This is the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, and there is to be a grand breakfast at 4 o'clock, P. M., on the Thames, in commemoration of it. A barge, dressed out in the flags taken at Waterloo, was anchored at some little distance from the shore, in which the breakfast was to be eaten, and the eaters were rowed out to it, from the stairs at Somerset house. The crowd on Waterloo Bridge, from which the affair could be witnessed to advantage, was immense. To me the scene presented was strikingly incongruous-the beggars in rags, and the ladies in silks, were not more in contrast, than the coal

boats-with which this part of this muddy river was filled-with the gilded barges of the breakfasters; and then there were the dutchesses, dukes, and other noblesse, in a crowd with coal carriers, fishwomen, and other commoners. At 3 o'clock, an hour before breakfast, there was a rowing match, which was about as interesting as a horse

race.

In the evening I got into a boat with an American friend, and was rowed, by one of the watermen of the Thames, up the river to Vauxhall gardens, where the battle of Waterloo was to be fought over, in miniature. As the night was dark and tranquil, it was favourable to the design. The gardens were splendidly illuminated, indeed; on first entering them, the number and brilliancy of the lamps, which are of many colours, is almost overwhelming. The fire-works of powder were the most beautiful and ingenious efforts of pyrotechnick skill; yet revolving wheels of fire, the fantastick flights of rockets, and showers of particoloured stars, were far less interesting, than the natural coruscations of the phosphorescent ocean. genuine Congreve rocket was also exhibited; the noise it produced was terrible. The plays, which were performed, the dancing, and the musick-all could not prevent my feeling a tedium, or a void, which I am glad such things can never fill. Vauxhall gardens are no doubt the most distinguished place of the kind in the world. The gay, the dissipated, and the abandoned, of this great metropolis, are constantly found, during the warm season, sauntering along its gravel walks-feasting under its piazzas and pavillions-listening to the varied musick of its orches tras, or gazing on its scenick exhibitions and brilliant fire-works. Though this place did not so captivate me by its beauty, as to bring to my memory the fairy scenes and

Elysian fields of the writers of romance yet it is certainly calculated to excite the admiration of the young and inexperienced, and admirably fitted to seize and carry away the senses-It is therefore no doubt a most successful school of corruption and misery.

Thursday, June 19th.-I wandered in different parts of the town. The new parts of London are very fine; the large open squares give a beautiful and airy appearance to the dwellings around them-in some of the old parts of the city at the west end, these open spaces are also to be found. I noticed today what I had observed before, large square pieces of board, painted with coats of arms, surrounded with a black border-these are fastened between the second and third stories, and are intended to signify that the family or the house is in mourning. They remain attached to the house for 12 months. I could not help repeating over to myself, as I passed some 6 or 8 of them,

"Grieve for an hour perhaps then mourn a year."

In the evening I was invited to the Royal Institution, to hear a lecture by Mr. Faraday. The large lecture room was crowded with ladies and gentlemen, who listened for more than an hour with the utmost attention, while the lecturer, in a plain, perspicuous, and sometimes eloquent style, gave us an account of the past, present, and future prospects of the Thames tunnel. As Mr. Faraday described the first irruption of the river into the tunnel, while the men were at work-the rushing in and noise of the waterthe cries and confusion of the men, and the crashing and whirling about of the machinery through the narrow passages, by the force of the current, a breathless silence was produced. A more perfect picture of such an occurrence could not have been drawn-a complete

ideal presence of the scene was before the mind of every auditor, and the effect it produced on us all was thrilling. The whole lecture was illustrated by numerous diagrams and models, so as to make the operation of tunnelling perfectly intelligible to every one. Such recreations and amusements as we had this evening, are eminently calculated to improve the state of society and a portion of the Londoners at least seem as much disposed to encourage literary and scientifick institutions, as the abominations of Covent Garden and Drury Lane Theatres, or those of Vauxhall.

Friday, June 20th. I spent a considerable part of this day with Mr. G. at the museum. It would require months to examine half the novelties of this place. I think I have not mentioned before, that on the stairs near the Cameleopards, there is an immense polar bear, brought by Captain Ross from the North Seas. Upon leaving the Museum, I examined several publick edifices. My object on this occasion, and on others of a similar kind, was to obtain some general idea of the publick buildings here but I have found that it will take up more toil and time, than I can afford for such a purpose. The churches, hospitals, prisons, schools, and various other institutions, are so numerous and so widely separated, that it would require years, rather than months, for their inspection. As my object is not to describe every thing scen, I will say nothing more of this day's labour.

Saturday, June 21st. After making some little purchases of books, and objects of natural history, I rode to Blackheath, about six miles from London. The road, a considerable part of the way, is built up with houses; but here and there a highly cultivated field is to be seen. My friend Mr. Gray resides here, in a lovely situation, and I came to dine with him.

Blackheath, though generally a broad elevated plain, commands some fine prospects. There are many pleasant villas on this heath, remarkable for the rural taste and beauty, so common in this country. Some traces of an encampment made here by the Danes in 1011, are said yet to be visible. There is also a cavern, in its vast chalk beds, which was occupied by banditti in Cromwell's time. I found quite a party, both of ladies and gentlemen, assembled at Mr. G's. Every thing was in a neat and very pretty style; and if it had been otherwise, the hospitality and urbanity of our host and his family, would have satisfied us all. After a most agreeable visit, I returned to town about 11 o'clock, with my friend Mr. Children and his lady, in their coach.

Sunday, June 22d.-I went to worship this morning in the celebrated Mr. Irving's chapel. I expected to hear the Rev. Andrew Thompson, of Edinburgh, but found a young Scotchman in his place. Mr. Irving has been in Scotland for some time. The chapel is large and elegant-a Scotch thistle is painted on the glass of every other window, and something like a rose, on the intermediate one. The clergyman did not seem to me to be very Presbyterian, on some points of doctrine; he was occasionally very vehement in his manner, and upon the whole an unpleasant speaker. In the afternoon, I heard a sermon from one of the establishment. It was interesting-but seemed to be written by some one 50 years ago, and by one who was not very well acquainted with practical piety. I spent the evening with my good friends at Camberwell. Mr. R. and his eldest daughter were making a short tour on the continent.

Monday, June 23d.-This has been a very busy day. The immense breweries of London have always been to me objects of great