DEAR SIR-As the Rector of a Parish where I have been labouring for thirty years, I have had much to try and also much to encourage me. Some instances of bardoned infidelity and numberless cases of careless indifference have caused me heaviness of Spirit, but I have seen likewise many over whom I can rejoice as humble disciples of the Lord Jesus, walking worthy of the holy name whereby they are called, and patiently suffering all his will concerning them. One instance of submission and perfect resignation has afforded me much gratification; and I am sure many of your readers will feel interested in a short record of the circumstances to which I allude.

It is but a few days since I committed to the grave the remains of the last surviving child of Andrew and Grace Martyn. On six previous occasions I have met them at the same spot, and each time had reason to adore that grace which sustained them, and bent their souls into a childlike acquiescence in the dispensations of their heavenly Father. The couple now so desolate were the first two infants baptized by my father after he had commenced his ministry in this parish, and he always regarded them with much partiality. They were both very engaging children, obedient to their parents, attentive at school, and respectful in man

ner.

I was therefore well-pleased to find that the first candidates for

holy matrimony who presented

themselves before me after I had succeeded to the living were Andrew Martyn and Grace Ellis. They entered upon their new duties with many heartfelt prayers for assistance, and good wishes from those who well knew their worth. Every blessing seemed truly to be theirs at this period of their lives

the peace of God in their soulshealth and spirits to enjoy that sufficiency of this world's goods which consisted in having food and raiment, and a contented mind. Often did they speak of the goodness of the Lord who had filled their cup with mercies, nor did I ever find it needful to remind them of Him, lest in their prosperity they should forget himthough the question often arose in my mind-Should trouble come upon them, will they bear it meekly?

Grace soon became the mother of twins, and few could see the happy father nursing his children without in a measure partaking of his joy. These infants were two or three months old when (after being absent from home for some weeks) I called at the cottage, and was surprised to find Grace sitting by the coffin of one; the other babe lying in her lap. Ah, Sir,' she said, I knew you would come to me,' but tears stopped her words, and she pointed to her child. I had not heard of its illness, which she told me had been very short. I spoke to her of the happiness of her infant then in his Saviour's arms. She smiled and said, 'Yes, blessed be his holy name.' Andrew too, though feeling as a father, could rejoice in the thought of his child's perfect bliss.

Two months had scarcely passed away, before I was again summoned to the church-yard, and the same grave received the second boy. A convulsive fit had terminated his brief life here, and he was then before the throne, hymning his Redeemer's praise. The sorrowing parents were still patient and submissive, though none but a mother who has day after day cradled her infant in her arms, and felt his smile chase away every feeling of fatigue, can know

the bitterness of that bereavement which Grace Martyn then experienced. I watched them with much anxiety during this time of trial and affliction. Though cast down, they could still rejoice in trouble: they experienced the sweetness of that consolation, which none but the Comforter himself can bestow.

In the course of time, a daughter was given to them, and with thankfulness and joy her parents saw her carried safely through the period of teething, so often fatal to infants. Months passed away, and little Mary became the constant companion of her father in his garden standing by him, while every evening he spent an hour or two in keeping it in order, and, as he pruned his trees, or raked the flower beds, the prayer was often raised, that this his own sweet bud might be kept from every cankering worm, and blossom fully to the glory of her Maker. His prayer was heard: when scarcely five years old, she was attacked by measles, and after a few days' struggle between life and death, she joined her brothers in the heavenly world. Andrew felt most deeply the loss of this dear child; his countenance shewed the acuteness of his sufferings, but he said not like Jonah, "I do well to be angry." He held his peace, and submitted meekly to the will of his Father without a murmur. At the time of Mary's death they had two other infants. These boys grew up in health and strength, together with a sister who was born the following year, and they promised to be the support and comfort of their parents in declining life. I need not say that they were carefully trained, and diligently instructed in the precepts of our holy religion. Both Grace and Andrew rejoicing in the sure hope that their other offspring, through the all-atoning merits of their Saviour, were already partakers of his kingdom, made it their

constant endeavour to guide these young ones into those paths which lead to everlasting life: looking forward to the time when they would form one family in heaven, and their labours were blessed, they saw them striving to live according to the will of God; and though depraved by nature as the rest of Adam's race, they trusted each was under the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit, and becoming a true disciple of the Saviour. Michael, the second son, was a boy of passionate temper, but with an open disposition, and the most affectionate feelings. During his early years, his father had much trouble in the attempt to crub his fiery spirit. I can only pray for him, Sir, at present,' he said, but afterwards he told me he prayed with him every morning when he grew older, and could understand his meaning, and taught the child to pray aloud, that he might be kept from falling into a passion that day.'

The good effects of this system were soon apparent, for Michael became tractable and mild, still possessing great energy of mind, and the liveliest affections. This lad reached his sixteenth year improving daily in character, but then fell a sacrifice himself in his endeavour to save a young friend from drowning. He was brought home to his mother a corpse. I saw her the next day, sorely afflicted, she yet only spoke of the great mercy it was that he had not thus suddenly been called away while engaged as many others of his age are too often, in some unkind scuffle with a playmate: 'I am sure he loved his Redeemer, sir, and he is now with him.'Andrew mourned; but in quietness. Affliction brought forth in him the peaceable fruits of righteousness." There were many who loudly murmured at this dispensation, impiously remarking, that religious folks were no better

off than others, if Andrew, whose life was so spotless, did not escape such heavy afflictions,-not knowing that these trials were among the "all things" which work together for a Christian's good. Some among his own friends trembled for him lest in the moment of trial his faith might fail. But a Christian's strength cannot be estimated by any standard, save that of the grace and power of his almighty friend and deliverer. He has said "My strength is perfected in your weakness; and Andrew when he asked for help in this time of need to overcome every repining thought, found that the grace of God was indeed sufficient for every emergency.

His eldest son, (for I must not make my tale too long) was spared to them for many years. He reached the age of manhood and was looking forwards to the following May, when he was to be united to a young woman in every respect suited to be the wife of a poor but pious man. That Spring, a malignant fever appeared in our village, and Edward was one am ng many other victims. He died with expressions of humble trust in his Redeemer, nor seemed to feel that death had any bitterness for him— only charging her who would have been his companion, had his days been lengthened-to meet him in heaven. I must not stop to describe his parents' grief, it was deep but chastened-"Thy will be done," seemed truly the language of their hearts, though it was expressed more by their conduct than their words.

Their only surviving child now, was their last born, a daughter meek and gentle as a lamb. She had grown up under the constant care of her mother, and rather than subject her to the many temptations to which young females are exposed when they leave their homes to enter service, her parents had kept her with them.

She

maintained herself and also assisted them by sewing for the ladies in our neighbourhood, who were always willing to employ so neat a work woman, not grudging her the PROPER remuneration for her labour. Ellen's health had never been robust; but until her eighteenth year, she had never suffered any severe illness. That winter, for the first time, her mother noticed a cough, and she began to speak of pain in her side. I need not detain you to follow all the varying stages of consumption. She lingered a year and a half, and bore the wearisome days and nights with the patience and submission of one who knew that her Father would not appoint one pain more than necessary.

I often visited her during her long confinement, and almost envied the humble, joyful confidence, with which she awaited her dismissal. One day she repeated the following verses which seemed to express the fulness of her faith and hope.

The God of Jacob is my guide,

My Shepherd; Israel's King,
Safely beneath his wings I hide,
Gladly his praise I sing.

His mercy all my wants supplies,
Nor care nor doubt I know,
No needful good his love denies,
Permits no needless woe.

He frees me from the galling chain,
Of Satan's heavy yoke,

Cleansed is each dark and guilty stain,
Each sin-wrought link is broke.
Not the dark passage to the tomb,
My spirit shall dismay;
His love shall chase away its gloom,
His arm shall be my stay.

O may his Spirit guide my way,

While earth's frail form I wear,
Then lead me to the realms of day,

My Father's home to share.

She often watched her mother's countenance, to read the thoughts which the certainty of their speedy separation could not fail to produce, and always had a word of comfort to drop into her distressed bosom; dwelling upon the time