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entered into both with all his soul. At one moment he would be sketching his plans for mechanical operations; the next his thoughts would be revolving some deep theological question, or he would enter into all the depths of experimental and practical godliness. He passed from business to religion, and from religion to business, with the utmost ease and dexterity. His business was a part of his religion: it was baptized with the spirit of Christianity. He felt that in both he was serving God, and he studied to make the one subservient to the other. He felt that in proportion as he was diligent and prosperous in his worldly engagements, his means would be enlarged for becoming a blessing both to the church and the world.

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steward, and accountable to God for the use of his talents. He honoured God with his substance, and God, in various ways, honoured him. He knew where it was written, "There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth." At the same time it was not from any selfish motive, but because he delighted to do good, and longed for the time when "the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea."

It has been already stated that Mr. Sheppard was chosen to the office of deacon soon after his admission into the Church. The duties of this office he discharged with the utmost thankfulness and fidelity. In this capacity he had uncommon influence with his brother deacons, the Church, and the congregation at large. Not that he assumed an undue arbitrary power to himself; for no man could be more free from dogmatical authority, or better understand the rights of others, than he did. But the influence he exerted arose purely from the profound judgment he possessed, and the respect

William Sheppard was law! Scarcely any one thought of opposing what he had calmly and deliberately recommended. The disinterestedness he manifested, and the zeal he displayed in the cause of God, coupled with his matured judgment and experience, naturally secured for him the respect and confidence of all around him.

4. This naturally leads us to remark that he was a man of distinguished benevolence. He possessed a warm and generous heart. His charities were unknown and almost unbounded. But whilst he felt for man as man, and delighted to relieve the wants of the sick and the destitute, the bowels of his compassion yearned with the deep-in which he was held. The opinion of est intensity over man as a fallen, ruined, perishing sinner. He remembered his own former blind and infatuated state; he felt the obligations he was under to Divine grace; and therefore he was ever ready to co-operate in every enterprise for rescuing his fellowcreatures from the paths of destruction, and for bringing them to God, to holiness, to happiness, and to heaven. Whilst he liberally supported the cause of Christ in his own place of worship, he felt a deep interest in the conversion of men and the spread of vital religion | throughout the world. The appeals that were made to him for supporting schools, building chapels, extending missionary operations, and all similar purposes, were most cheerfully responded to. His ear, his hand, his heart, his pocket, were all open. Although he had so large a family, he never thought of making that an excuse. He would say, "I don't want to save fortunes for my children; I would do what I can to set them a-going in the world, and then they must fight their own way, and live by their own exertion." He felt that he was a

It will be readily supposed that such a man as we have now described would be a faithful friend to ministers! Such he was indeed! The writer of this article experienced his faithful friendship and sympathy for about six years, and can never forget his undeviating kindness, and the respectful, unassuming manner which he displayed on all occasions. He loved and esteemed the ministers of the Gospel for their "work's sake." He entered into their plans, their feelings, their objects, their difficulties of various kinds; and he was ever ready to sympathise in their trials, to advise them in their perplexities, and to co-operate with them in every noble Christian enterprise. It would not be an easy matter to exaggerate the virtues and excel

lencies of this great and good man. He was the friend of the pastor, the fellow-helper of his brother deacons, the constant adviser and counsellor of the Church, and the generous benefactor of the poor, both in the congregation and to those around him!

Would to God that all new Churches were blessed with such deacons as William Sheppard; then would they be blessed indeed!

He

We must not forget to mention that he filled the office of lay preacher for a considerable number of years, and that with great efficiency. Soon after he knew Christ himself, he longed to make him known to others. His soul was filled with compassion for those who were perishing about him. sallied forth into the villages far and near, and poured forth the treasures of his heart in proclaiming "the glorious Gospel of the blessed God." His preaching was thoroughly evangelical and practical. He set forth the ruin of man by sin, redemption by Christ, and regeneration by the Spirit. He insisted that we are saved entirely by the grace of God, through faith in Jesus Christ; and at the same time inculcated good works as the fruits of that faith; thereby proving that we are members of his mystical body, and heirs of his eternal kingdom.

He was engaged in these labours of love only a few days before his death. His text was in Rev. xxii.: “And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." He had spoken to the people twice from this passage, and promised to speak from it again. So richly furnished was his mind, so deep and extensive was his grasp of Divine truth. But his work was done. The morning following he was visited with a stroke that terminated his existence in thirteen days. He was delirious the greater part of the time, still he had intervals of reason, and those intervals were very delightful. They were spent in thinking and talking about God, Christ, religion, eternity. No worldly things whatever had any charms for him, and of course they were not obtruded upon him. After a short conversation, he would clasp his hands, and say, "Let us pray." Then he would pour out his fervent

supplications, till the "helm of reason" was lost again. His frame of mind was the most spiritual you can imagine; and even in his wildest ramblings you could perceive that the glories of the eternal world were all he thought of. On being asked if his mind was in a state of perfect tranquillity, his reply was, "Perfect peace." His chamber was the gate of heaven. Not a cloud passed over his spirit, not a fear agitated his breast; all was as calm as a summer's eve. His faith in a dying Saviour was strong and unshaken, and his hopes of immortality were bright and glorious. He departed, without a struggle or a groan, December 24th, 1844, aged 59.

Thus lived and thus died WILLIAM SHEPPARD,—a name that will be long remembered and revered by the whole circle of his acquaintance. On reading of such a death-bed scene, who can help exclaiming, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his ?" Two reflections seem to force themselves upon us by the preceding narrative. First, how unspeakably important and momentous is true religion! What a mighty power it possesses to tranquillize the bosom of man in the very agonies of death, and the immediate prospect of eternity!

Secondly, how indispen

sably necessary it is to prepare for a dying hour before that period arrives, that we may meet it with the same tranquillity as our deceased friend!

Notwithstanding the period that has elapsed since the subject of this memoir left this vale of tears, we would just venture on a word in reference to the surviving family. With respect to the widow of the deceased, may God be with her, and abundantly bless her in her latter days, and give her a bright hope of a glorious immortality. To his children we would give the word of affectionate admonition :Follow in the footsteps of your revered father. Think of his numerous excellencies; his manly deportment, his sober habits, his strict integrity; his generous spirit, his Christian character, his fervent piety, his prayers at the domestic altar, his zeal for God, his love to the souls of men: bis attach

ment to the sanctuary, and his peaceful, happy dismission from this earthly tabernacle to the realms of glory! O yes, think of him, admire him, imitate him. Let it be your ambition to be like him; trust in the same Saviour, cultivate the same moral and religious

principles; pray to be baptized with
the same spirit, and let it be your
chief concern, the one great object and
business of your life, to prepare to
meet him at the right hand of God.
Oct. 3rd, 1850.
H. BIRCH.

The Counsel Chamber.

NURSEMAIDS.-A WORD OF ADVICE.

YOUNG WOMEN! you are a very im-
portant class of society. Your office
is in the highest degree interesting
and responsible. You hold in your
hands, to an extent which defies cal-
culation, the dearest hopes of families
and of nations. The amount of time
which the children, in the morning of
life, the period most susceptible of
impressions, whether for good or for
evil,-spend in your society, gives you
an influence much greater than that
even of a mother herself; and the
full amount of which is inconceivable. |
If you discharge your obligations in
the spirit of an enlightened zeal, you
will prove, not only through time, but
eternity, benefactors to those who em-
ploy you, and establish the highest
claims to their consideration, love, and
gratitude. You will, therefore, do well
to magnify your office, that you may
brace your spirits to the point which
is necessary to its right performance.
A morally and intellectually qualified
nurse-maid is a treasure beyond all
price.

My object at present, however, is not to treat you to an essay or a lesson on your general duties in that capacity, but to place before you, with all possible earnestness, one particular point which relates to a practice unhappily but too common amongst

nurse-maids, and others-the habit of endeavouring to frighten children, sometimes for wanton playfulness, and sometimes as a punishment for little faults, or as a means of urging them to obedience-a thing the most repre hensible. Be assured this is a matter of much greater importance than, at first sight, it might appear. Were all told on this subject that could be told, it would present one of the most affecting and heart-rending narratives ever recorded in connection with the rising race. Let me then beseech you, on no consideration to resort to any means of frightening your children, and be most conscientiously particular in preventing others, on any ground whatever, from so doing. Resent all attempts on their part, as not merely a cruelty, but as that which involves the possibility of perpetrating an enormous barbarity allied to heinous crime. In confirmation and illustration of these serious statements, it may be well to set before you a few facts:

A school-mistress, for some trifling offence, most foolishly put a child into a dark cellar for an hour. The child was terrified, and cried bitterly. Upon returning to her parents in the evening, she burst into tears, and begged that she might not be put into the cellar. The parents thought this extremely

odd, and assured her there was no danger of their being guilty of so great an act of cruelty; but it was difficult to pacify her, and when put to bed she passed a restless night. On the following day she had a fever, during which she frequently exclaimed, "Do not put me in the cellar!" "he fourth day after, she was taken to Sir Astley Cooper, in a high state of fever, with delirium, frequently muttering, "Pray don't put me in the cellar!" When Sir Astley inquired the reason, he found that the parents had learnt the punishment to which she had been subjected. He ordered what was likely to relieve her; but she died in a week after this unfeeling conduct.

Another case, from the same authority, may be here cited. It is the case of a child ten years of age, who, wanting to write her exercise, and to scrape her slate-pencil, went into the school in the dark to fetch her knife, when one of her school-fellows burst from behind the door to frighten her; she

was much terrified, and her head ached. On the following day she became deaf; and on the next, 80 much so as not to hear the loudest talking. Sir Astley saw her three months after this had happened, and she continued in the same deplorable state of deafness.

A boy, fifteen years of age, was admitted an inmate of Dundee Lunatic Asylum, having become imbecile from fright. When twelve years of age he was apprenticed to a light business; and some trifling article being one day missing, he was, along with others, locked up in a dark cellar. The children were much alarmed; and all were let out with the exception of this poor boy, who was detained until past midnight. He became from this time nervous and melancholy, and sank into a state of insensibility from which he will never recover. The missing article was found on the following morning, exculpating the boy of the guilt with which he had been charged.

The Fragment Basket.

CONTENTMENT.

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Marcus Curio, when he had bribes sent to tempt him to be unfaithful to his country, was sitting at dinner with a dish of turnips, and they came and promised him rewards. Well," saith he, "that man that can be contented with such fare as I have, will not be tempted with your rewards. I thank God, I am contented with this fare; and as for rewards, let them be offered to those that cannot be content to dine with a dish of turnips, as I do."

The truth of this is apparently seen as the reason why men do betray their trust, and by indirect means strive to be rich, is because they cannot be contented to be in a low condition. Whereas the man that is contented

with a hard bed and a bare board, is shot-free from thousands of temptations that prevail against others, even to the damning of their souls.-Jeremiah Boroughs.

THE AFFECTIONS.

He that rideth a fierce horse, let the horse keep what pace he will, so long as the rider commands him by the bridle, we say he rides strongly. But if the horse get the bit in his mouth, and run away, the faster his pace the weaker the rider, because he cannot check him. Our affections are just like that fierce horse, and our reason should be as a strong bridle. Stir they never so much, if reason com. mand, we are strong. But if reason

have no power, and they run loose, then certainly the more violent they are, the more weak are we.-B. Lake.

ETERNITY.

Zeuxis, the famous painter, was observed to be very slow at his work, and to let no piece of his go abroad into the world to be seen of men, till he had turned it over and over, this side and that side, again and again, to see if he could espy any fault in it; and being upon a time asked the reason why he was so curious, why so long in drawing his lines, and so slow in the use of his pencil, he made this answer: "I am long in doing what I

take in hand, because, what I paint, I paint for eternity." As for our parts, we write, we read, we sing, we pray, we labour; whatsoever we say, whatsoever we do, whatsoever we think, all is transmitted to eternity; all to be viewed by a most judicious and allseeing eye; so that no fault can escape; and being viewed and considered, they are to be committed, either to be eternally punished or eternally rewarded. We must labour, therefore, to be perfect; so to live to God, that we may live with God; so to live on earth, that we may live in Heaven; so to live for eternity, that we may live to all eternity.-Drexelius.

Poetry.

VOICE OF THE BELL.

Au! well I mind me of a child,
A gleesome, happy maid,

Who came with constant step to church,
In comely garb array'd,
And knelt her down full solemnly,
And penitently pray'd.

And oft when church was done, I mark'd
That little maiden near

This pleasant spot, with book in hand,
As you are sitting here,-
She read the story of the Cross,
And wept with grief sincere.

Years roll'd away, and I beheld

The child to woman grown;
Her cheek was fairer, and her eye
With brighter lustre shone;
But childhood's truth and innocence
Were still the maiden's own.

I never rang a merrier peal,

Than when, a joyous bride,

She stood beneath the sacred porch,
A noble youth beside,
And plighted him her maiden troth,
In maiden love and pride.

I never toll'd a deeper knell,
Than when, in after years,
They laid her in the churchyard here,
Where this low mound appears-
The very grave, my boy, that you
Are watering now with tears!

It is thy mother! gentle boy,

That claims this tale of mine; Thou art a flower whose fatal birth Destroyed the parent vine!

A precious flower thou art, my child-
Two LIVES WERE GIVEN FOR THINE!

One was thy sainted mother's, when
She gave thee mortal birth;
And one thy Saviour's, when in death
He shook the solid earth.
Go. boy! and live as may befit
Thy life's exceeding worth!

The boy awoke, as from a dream,

And, thoughtful, looked around,
But nothing saw, save at his feet,
His mother's lowly mound,
And by its side that ancient Bell,
Hall hidden in the ground.

The Children's Gallery.

STORY OF LITTLE ARTHUR.

ARTHUR WILLIAM, after he was laid down in bed one night, said to his mamma, "It sometimes comes into my mind, perhaps there is no God. But then I think of this world. Who

made it? Whoever made it must be God." His mamma was surprised and pleased to hear her little son utter these words. She was surprised, because he was very young-only five

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