away, and wiping her eyes with her apron, tottered back to her arm-chair, and leant her elbows on her knees, praying.

And while the funeral procession passes along with measured step, and the mourners receive that solace to their grief which God graciously permits should accompany the tears that flow at the bidding of a wounded heart, let me tell you a few particulars of the history of that departed one, who so soon will be committed to the grave," Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Before, however, I do so, let me warn you against allowing yourselves, in any case, to sit in judgment on the conduct of any one, living or dead. Remember, that "to his own Master he standeth or falleth," and that the secrets of every heart are known only to that God who will be its Judge. But as life and death, judgment and eternity, are subjects ever profitable for our meditation, and in the consideration of the spectacles of mortality which daily, in some shape or other, meet our view, we may, if we will, derive much profit, we are not forbidden to consider in what way the death of a neighbour or friend speaks a warning to us.

The village of Hartop, in which James Stoker had resided, for whose removal out of the miseries of this sinful world the Church, at the time of which I am telling you, was giving God thanks (see Burial Service),—was, for an agricultural parish, rather thickly populated. Hill and dale, wood and water, contributed to increase the natural beauties of the situation, and, with very few exceptions, none of the cottagers could complain of the damp situations of their houses, as they were for the most part perched on hills, which at some height overlooked the public road which passed through the village. Clear streams and convenient wells supplied the inhabitants with plenty of good water; but as water was never yet known to run up hill, unless forced to do so by artificial means, the only drawback was, that the less cleanly and industrious found that more time was necessarily consumed in journeys to the spring than they could well spare.

Speaking of temporal things, the poor of Hartop were

rich in comparison with many less favoured districts. Coal was abundant within quite a short distance, and the cost and carriage of it consequently a trifling expense to what it is to many a hard-working and equally deserving labourer in other parts of the country. The collieries afforded employment to a large proportion of the population, and enabled many a happy wife and mother to obtain at the end of the week those necessaries of life which the village shop supplied.

James Stoker was a collier many years of his life, and I always heard him spoken of as an industrious, hardworking man. He had not however always lived at Hartop, nor do I know exactly what was the cause of his removal to our village. My acquaintance with him began when sickness prevented his following the work in which for two years previously he had been engaged,-when having given up working in the coal pits he had laboured

in the fields.

He was not then confined to his bed, nor indeed was he till within quite a short time of his death, which did not happen for many months after I first saw him. Disease had for some time by slow degrees been undermining his health, but, as we so often find among the poor, he would not give in till increasing weakness totally disabled him from going to his daily labour.

From the first, however, James Stoker seemed fully impressed with a feeling that he should not recover; but was very desirous to do or take any thing that his friends suggested for his relief. The failure of the best medical efforts to restore him proving that the sickness which overcame him was like the summons to King Hezekiah, bidding him "set thine house in order, for thou shalt die and not live," he received it as such, and I have every reason to believe that his whole study from that time was to "prepare to meet his God."

During some of my frequent visits to this patient sufferer, I learnt from him a few particulars of his earlier life, and on these I would urge the warning, which, as I before remarked, the death of a friend or neighbour speaks to us. When death seemed to be advancing with rapid strides towards him, then his mind was turned

to the God by whose watchful providence he had lived and moved and had his being, though for many years his conduct had shown him to have been unmindful of such mercies. But it had not always been so. From the time of leaving the neighbourhood where he had formerly lived, (about nine years ago,) he told me his had been "a wild career. The church bell had rung unheeded by him every Lord's Day, and even the sight of a congregation flocking to a place of worship had failed to remind him that God had said, "Remember that ye keep holy the Sabbath day." But neither had it been always thus with James Stoker. While a lad in service he always attended the service of the Church, and, to judge by the fervency with which he joined in the Church prayers which during his sickness were offered with him, he then heard words once very familiar to him. In after life the Church was deserted, that he might join a dissenting congregation: why he did so, I never learnt. Doubtless it was in ignorance that he forsook the Church of his baptism, where God's word is preached, and the holy Sacraments are administered by his servants. But while he continued to frequent the chapel regularly, and attended the class and prayer meetings, which "joined members" among the Methodists are expected to do, James was a happy man; and why? because he kept the fear of God before his eyes. Sundays were to him truly holy days, and in resting from the labours of the week he found the Sabbath indeed a delight. At that time temptations to drunkenness and disorderly conduct, which influence so many, seem to have had no hold upon him. When all necessary purchases had been made with the wages which came in each Saturday night, a few pence remained; then, my friend told me, he used to indulge in a little beer; but after getting it, he never, he said, remained in the public-house, always preferring the quiet of his own fireside to the society of those who frequent such places.

In leaving the home where these, the happiest days of his life, were passed, James Stoker seems to have become an altered man. Although in Hartop he might have readily joined a congregation of Wesleyan Metho

dists, yet he seems to have then forsaken religion altogether, and abandoned himself, if not to open wickedness, to the sin of utter carelessness and indifference to holy things.

To have been arrested in such a course, he afterwards felt, and constantly spoke of, as a mercy for which his heartfelt thanks were offered. During the months of wearisome and lingering sickness which he had to suffer, I never heard him utter a complaining or murmuring word. His thoughts seemed fully occupied with the mercy shown to him in the time granted him for repentance; often I heard him acknowledge it, and say, "If God had cut me off in the middle of my wild career, where might I have been now?" and then he would fervently thank God for having afflicted him. Of him it may well be said, "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept thy word." He was not, as he himself expressed it, a good scholar; but some plain and easy Tracts supplied him with reading which gave comfort I trust to many a lengthened hour. He had of his own an old copy of Bp. Wilson's "Introduction to the Lord's Supper." This he learned to prize, and some weeks before his death he received the Lord's Supper, for the first and last time in his life; for when the time came which was fixed for the Sacrament to be again administered to him, his sufferings were ended, and, let us hope, death summoned him to an endless bliss!

How forcibly does this death-bed speak to us of the duty of receiving every chastisement as sent from God for our eternal good, and of believing it to be a mark of the Divine love, when we are called from the business and pleasures of this world, and consigned to the stillness and solitude of the sick chamber. God then bids us reflect upon our past lives, and search and examine our hearts; and happy will it be for those, who, being thus afflicted, duly improve the opportunity afforded them for repentance; so that, if a longer continuance in this world is granted them, they may bring forth fruits meet for repentance, or, if death is their portion, they may meet it with resignation, and an unfailing trust in the merits of our Saviour.

The way in which James Stoker met his sickness, bore his sufferings, and learnt the lesson which God's affliction taught him, is surely an example for all; in one thing, however, I would not have you imitate him. Never neglect religion, and if you have, by the mercy of God, found his service a delight, seek to maintain a constant communion with Him by prayer, public and private, by reading and hearing his holy word, and in partaking frequently of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. If you draw back, and follow the multitude to do evil, then beware lest death seize you suddenly, and no time be granted you to repent of what you will then, but too late, find to have been a "wild career.

But a few weeks before the passing bell announced to the villagers at Hartop the release of James Stoker from his earthly tabernacle, the same solemn sound had been heard when a friend and near neighbour of my departed friend had been called to bid farewell to wife and children, and resign his spirit to Him who gave it. His sick room I had also frequently visited; but how differently William Greenwood seemed to regard the sickness which kept him from his work, and forced him to sit still and think! His whole mind seemed to have been fixed upon recovery, and a speedy return to the labour in which he was a skilful workman.

His conversation always turned upon himself, the symptoms of amendment in his health which he fancied he detected, and his plans for the future, when the restoration which he so confidently expected should have taken place. It was but too plain that his affections were fixed on this world, and the prosperity which he hoped would follow his untiring industry; and that the true riches, treasures which are stored above, were only to be sought for, and valued, when the best days were over.

Sickness in this case did not seem to make itself heard, as the warning voice which had awakened such feelings of sorrow for sin, and earnest repentance, in his fellow sufferer. "I am sure I am better," he would say, "and if I can only get a bit stronger, I am sure I shall be quite well very soon," and again, "my last medicine has quite set me up, I am sure another bottle will cure me;”