Page images
PDF
EPUB

He gave a strict charge to the persons in whose custody his papers were, to burn all his obscene and filthy pictures, which were so notoriously scandalous; and all his profane and lewd writings, by which he had so highly offended, and shamed, and blasphemed, that holy religion into which he had been baptized.

He was ready to make restitution, to the utmost of his power, to all persons whom he had injured; and heartily forgave all the wrongs which he had sustained, hoping that he should meet with the like free forgiveness from God.

46

He expressed a tender concern for his servants, and those who attended him; and earnestly exhorted them to love and fear God. To a gentleman of some character, who came to see him on his death-bed, he said : "O remember that you contemn God no more. He is an avenging God, and will visit you for your sins; and will, I hope, in mercy, touch your eonscience, sooner or later, as he has done mine You and I have been friends and sinners together a great while, and therefore I am the more free with you. We have been all mistaken in our conceits and opinions; our persuasions have been false and groundless; therefore God grant you repentance." And seeing the same gentleman the next day, he said: "Perhaps you were disobliged by my plainness with you yesterday. I spoke the words of truth and soberness ;" and striking his hand upon his breast, he added, "I hope God will touch your heart."

He was very desirous to testify to the world his repentance for his past misconduct; and to make every reparation in his power for the mischiefs, which, by his example and writings, he had occasioned. He sent mes

sages, which well became a dying penitent, to some of his former friends. He strictly enjoined the pious persons who attended him during his last sickness, to publish any thing concerning him that might be a means to reclaim others; praying to God, that, as his life had done much hurt, so his death might do some good. He caused the following solemn declaration to be drawn up, which he signed with his own hand:

"For the benefit of all those whom I may have drawn into sin, by my example and encouragement, I leave to the world this my last declaration, which I deliver in the presence of the GREAT GOD, who knows the secrets of all hearts, and before whom I am preparing to be judged; that, from the bottom of my soul, I detest and abhor the whole course of my former wicked life; that I think I can never sufficiently admire the goodness of God, who has given me a true sense of my pernicious opinions, and vile practices; by which I have hitherto lived, without hope, and without God in the world; have been an open enemy to Jesus Christ, doing the utmost despite to the holy Spirit of Grace; and that the greatest testimony of my charity to such is, to warn them in the name of God, and as they regard the welfare of their immortal souls, no more to deny his being or his providence, or despise his goodness; no more to make a mock of sin, or contemn the pure and excellent religion of my ever-blessed Redeemer, through whose merits alone. I, one of the greatest of sinners, do yet hope for mercy and forgiveness. Amen.

Declared and signed in the presence of

J. ROCHESTER.

"ANN ROCHEster,
'ROBERT PARSONS."

[ocr errors]

His sufferings were, at times, very great; but he did not repine under them. In one of his sharpest fits of pain, looking up to heaven, he said: "God's holy will be done. 1 bless him for all he does to me."

He expressed his willingness to live, or to die, as it should please Divine Providence. "If," said he, "God should spare me yet a little longer time here, I hope to bring glory to his name, proportionable to the dishonor I have done him, in my whole life past and particularly, by endeavors to convince others of the danger of their condition, if they continue impenitent; and by telling them how graciously God has dealt with me."

Near the close of life, he was often heard to pray fervently. He rejoiced in the comfortable persuasion of acceptance with God. A few days before his decease, he said: "I shall now die. But O, what unspeakable glories do I see! What joys, beyond thought or expression, am I sensible of! I am assured of God's mercy to me, through Jesus Christ. O! how I long to die, and to be with my Saviour!"

Thus died, in the thirty-third year of his age, the celebrated earl of Rochester; a memorable instance of the goodness and mercy of God, and of the power of his grace, to purify and redeem the most corrupt and obdurate offender. From this case, and from many other instances, the truly penitent sinner, though his sins have been as scarlet or as crimson, may derive hope that God will, even in his greatest extremity, hear his prayers, and accept his repentance: but none should presume on the Divine Mercy, by deferring their amendment till they are brought to the bed of sickness and death. They may suddenly be taken away; they may not have their understanding in the time of illness; they may be deceived with false hopes of recovery; their pains of body may not admit of that state of mind which is proper for the great work of repentance ; or, they may have become so hardened by the habits of sin, that they may die, as many have died, without a proper sense of their condition. May the goodness and forbearance of God lead to repentance and amendment of life, in the time of health! We shall then, at the approach of death, have no guilty tumults of mind; no dismal forebodings of the future. We shall bear our affliction with patience and resignation; and, with joyful hope, commit our spirits into the hands of a faithful and merciful Creator.

For a further account of Lord Rochester, we refer the reader to a small volume published by Dr. Burnet, entitled "Some Passages of the Life and Death of John, Earl of Rochester;" "a book, which," as Dr. Johnson says, "the critic ought to read for its elegance, the philosopher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety."

RESIGNATION.

"My Father, if by pain

I have been drawn more closely unto Thee,
I bless Thee for the trial, and the loss,
I bless Thee for the suffering and the cross;
All, all is naught to this eternal gain."

BLACK MARIA.

BY THE EDITOR.

WHAT do we mean by Black Maria? That is a proper question, and it shall be answered. It is not a colored woman, as the reader perhaps hastily supposed, that is to form the subject of our present article.

Not to prolong suspense we will at once proceed to define. Black Maria is the name given to a certain strangely constructed vehicle, used in some of our larger towns and cities to convey prisoners from the prison to the court house and back again. Having had-we will not say the pleasure of frequently seeing this concern, we are fortunately able to describe it. It has four wheels like a common carriage, surmounted by an ill-proportioned body, perhaps three feet wide, four feet long and five feet high, with most prison looking sides, made of solid plank, bound with iron, and painted black. The prisoner is put in at a side door which is closed on him by a substantial lock. Then away goes the pony with its humiliating load, over "the stony street," and the boys cry out, "There goes Black Maria !" It is scarcely necessary to say that the prisoner does not look out as he is hurried along, inasmuch as he has no place at which to look out.

But why is this concern called Black Maria? That is what we ourselves would like to know. We have put the question to men of age, and to men learned in curious matters, but have failed to obtain a satisfactory answer. Should we attempt to answer the question ourselves, it would be a mere opinion; and yet we have such an irrepressible desire to know the reason of things that we find ourselves always guessing where we cannot know. Thus we have thought it might be so named because it is painted black. Then we have thought it might be because it is a black business which makes this thing necessary. When we have tried to be more learned in our inquiries, we have traced it to Mara, Mary, Maria, which, in Hebrew, mean bitterness-seeing it is a bitter thing to fall into the commission of crime, and then to be compelled to take a shameful and disgraceful ride in the "Black Maria." If the reader can give a better interpretation we shall be as glad to be instructed as we are anxious to instruct him. We only ask credit for our good wishes in making an attempt to explain the origin of the name.

Though we know not the origin of the name, we know the use of the thing; and must confess that it attracts our attention whenever we see it, and is sure to call forth many thoughts, reflections and feelings. What a pity, we say to ourselves that any mortal being should ever come to such disgrace. We know that he who rides in it was made in the image of God, and designed for a better end. We call to mind that he was once an interesting and comparatively innocent child, a blooming boy, the pride, and joy, and hope of his parents. A fond mother doated on him, and a fond father regarded him with pride and pleasure. He was happy among his fellow boys at school. But in time, idleness, evil company, and perhaps the cup of the drunkard allured him into evil ways,

and led him into the snares of sin. Had he taken care of himself, and walked in better ways, he might perhaps have occupied the position of the judge who tries him, or the lawyer who is handling his case, or the virtuous and respectable juror who is forced by the evidence of his crime to find him guilty. All this he might have been; and if not this, he might at least be a worthy, quiet citizen, following an humble but use ful calling, respected by his fellow men. But he has chosen the ways of crime; and now he is a culprit, riding in disgrace through the streets in the Black Maria! What a pity-what a shame-what a sin, that men will pursue a course of life which leads to such bitter results.

We hope the boy, or the young man who reads this article, will be careful of the seductive beginnings which lead to thi sad end. Industry and piety are the only safeguards. He that early devotes himself to some honorable and useful calling, and with it fears God and regards his holy word and ways, will never be disgraced by a ride in the "Black Maria."

DARE AND DO.

BY WILLIAM C. CAMERON.

UPWARD-onward! fellow-workmen,
Ours the battle-field of life;
Ne'er a foot to foemen yielding,
Pressing closer 'midst the strife!
Forward in the strength of manhood,
Forward in the fire of youth;

Aim at something-ne'er surrender,
Arm thee in the mail of truth.

Though thy ways be strewn with dangers,
Summer rain-drops lay the dust;
FAITH and HOPE are two-edged weapons,
Which will ne'er belie thy trust!
Shrink not, though a host surround thee,
Onward-duty's path pursue;

All who gild the page of story

Knew these brave words-Dare and Do.

Miller was a rough-stone mason,

Shakspeare, Goldsmith, Keats and Hood,
Franklin, Jerrold, Burns and Gifford,
Had to toil as we for food.

Yes, these men, with minds majestic,

Sprung from ranks the rich call poor,

Cast a halo round brown labor-
Had to wrestle-fight-endure.

Forward, then, bright eyes are beaming;
Fight, nor lose the Conqueror's crown;
Stretch thy right hand-seize thy birthright,
Take it wear it-'tis thine own!

Slay the giants which beset thee-
Rise to manhood-glory-fame;

Take thy pen, and in the volume

Of the gifted write thy name.

[blocks in formation]

"WHEN I was a little boy," says Dr. Franklin, "I remember one cold winter morning I was accosted by a smiling man with an axe on his shoulder." "My pretty boy," said he, “has your father a grindstone?" "Yes, sir,” said I. "You are a fine little fellow," said he; "will you let me grind my axe on it?" Pleased with the compliment of the "fine little fellow," "O yes," I answered, "it is down in the shop." "And will you, my little fellow," said he, patting me on the head, "get me a little hot water ?" Could I refuse; I ran and soon brought a kettle full. "How old are you and what's your name ?" continued he, without waiting for a reply; "I am sure you are one of the finest little fellows that I ever saw will you just turn a few minutes for me." Tickled at the flattery, like a fool I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the day. It was a new axe, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school bell rang and I could not get away; my hands were blistered, the axe was sharpened, and the man turned to me with, "Now you little rascal, you've played truant; send for school, or you'll rue it." Alas! thought I, it is hard enough to turn the grindstone this cold day, but to be called a little rascal was too much. It sunk deep in my mind, and often have I thought of it since. When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to take a little brandy, and throwing his goods on the counter, thinks I that man has an axe to grind. When I see a man flattering the people, making great profession of attachment to liberty, who is in private life a tyrant, methinks, look out, good people, that fellow would set you turning a grindstone. When I see a man hoisted into office by party spirit, without a single qualification to render him respectable or useful, alas! deluded people, you are doomed for a season to turn the grindstone for a party.

A PERFECT WIFE.
A COURAGE to endure and to obey-
A hate of gossip, parlance, and of sway,
Crown'd Isabel, through all her placid life,
The Queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.
TENNYSON.

A PERFECT WOMAN

The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly plan'd,
To warn, to comfort and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright,
With something of an angel light.

A PERFECT HUSBAND.

WORDSWORTH,

Faithful as a dog, the lonely shepherd's pride;
True as the helm, the bark's protecting guide;
Firm as the shaft that props the towering dome;
Sweet as to the shipwreck'd seaman life and home.

EURIPEDES.

« PreviousContinue »