gain this knowledge, is found ignorant of it, he feels somewhat ashamed, when that ignorance is discover

ed. He is sensible, that he ought to have an interest in his Country; and that such interest would if felt naturally urge him to endeavour, to know something about it. But if we feel shame at being wilfully ignorant of the history of the Country, in which we are to live and be concerned for a few years, ought we not to feel ashamed at being wilfully ignorant of the History of the CHURCH-that country in which we are to live and be concerned for ever?

We shall, therefore, endeavour to supply the reader with a short History on this interesting and all important subject, first giving him a general outline of the rise and progress of the Church, and then conducting him to a knowledge of that branch of it, which God's blessing and mercy, through Christ Jesus, have caused to spread from the parent stem, to overshadow this favoured land with its goodly boughs, and to shed abundantly upon us its precious and life giving fruit. Truly of that Church it may be said in the affectionate and praiseful language of the Psalmist:

“Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt; thou hast cast out the heathen, and planted it.

Thou hadst preparedst room before it, and didst cause it to take deep root, and it filled the land.

The hills were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars.

She sent out her boughs unto the sea, and her branches unto the river."

O may this nation never by its sinfulness and neglect of God's gift provoke him to withdraw it, to "cast down the hedges" of his "vine," to leave it open, so that "the boar out of the wood (may) waste it, and the wild beast of the field (may) devour it"! Our history as was observed will be short, and therefore confined to a mere outline.

(To be continued.)

INFIDELITY MORE INJURIOUS TO THE POOR THAN TO THE RICH.

This publication appears to me to be as cruel and mischievous in its effects, as it is manifestly illegal in its principles; because it strikes at the best, sometimes alas the only, refuge and consolation amid the distresses and afflictions of the world. The poor and humble whom it affects to pity are stabbed to the heart by it—they have more occasion for firm hopes beyond the grave, than the rich and prosperous who have other comforts to render life delightful. I can conceive a distressed but virtuous man surrounded by his children, looking up to him for bread when he has none to give them, sinking under the last day's labour and unequal to the next-yet still supported by confidence in the hour when all tears shall be wiped from the eyes of affliction, bearing the burden laid upon him by a mysterious providence which he adores, and anticipating with exultation the revealed promises of his Creator, when he shall be greater than the greatest, and happier than the happiest of mankind. What a change in such a mind might be wrought by this merciless publication.

Erskine's Speech against Paine's Age of Reason.

W.

JOHN HILL.

(Continued from page 11.)

Both himself and wife, who was on her death-bed at the same time, took great delight in hearing their sons read the Scriptures, and explain the substance of what they had read on religious subjects in English books.

Mrs. Hill was relieved from her sufferings (which indeed she bore with a resignation and patience truly christian) about five weeks before her husband, and I am told it was most affecting to witness the composure with which she took leave of him a few hours before her death. Requesting the little pallet on which she lay to be placed beside his, she told him she was about to leave him-but he must not grieve, as she felt her Saviour, who had been her support during her sickness, was her friend-she would be happy after her departure-that they and their sons would meet again-and besought him, while he remained, to warn and exhort all to take care of their souls.

The conduct of their sons, during their parents' illness, was most exemplary. As there were no females in the family, but such as came out of kindness, many of the duties in the sick chamber devolved upon the younger son, a young man of one-and-twenty. It was pleasing to see the tenderness and assiduity with which he performed, for many months, these wearisome and unwonted duties. On several occasions I have admired the gentle and affectionate manner in which he ministered to their wants and infirmity. His father observed to me, respected him, "My poor Isaac, he is a very good boy, -he takes as good care of us as if he was a woman. I am often so full of pain that I cannot rest at night, and am very troublesome, but he never leaves me, nor gets tired of taking care of me; he lies on the floor beside my bed at night, and is always ready when I call: John takes care of things out of doors. Oh, it makes our hearts glad to have such good boys!"

I had been for several days expecting the departure of my poor friend, when on the morning of Wednesday, the 17th of June, I was summoned to attend his death-bed, and on reaching the house found, alas! the cold hand of death upon him.

He was unable to speak to me, and life was fleeting fast. On entering the apartment, the scene that presented itself was worthy of the pencil. On a bedstead of simple construction was laid the swarthy patriarch, apparently conscious of his situation and the change that momentarily awaited him.

It was a scene of painful interest, but not unattended with satisfaction. Death in this instance appeared to me divested of that awful form he so generally assumes.

Beside and at the foot of the bed sat his two sons, in silent sorrow, watching every breath and trifling motion, of their beloved parent. Around the bed, and in different parts of the room, were sitting or standing eighteen or twenty Indians, engaged in singing, in a sweetly subdued tone, meet for the ears of the dying, hymns suited to the solemn occasion.

When I thought his end was at hand, I called upon all present to join in commending our dear brother's soul into the hands of " his faithful Creator and most merciful Saviour."

It requires one to use, or hear used, under similar affecting circumstances, the prayer furnished by our comprehensive ritual "for a sick person at the point of departure," to appreciate its beauty and applicability. Short as the prayer is, and although he was breathing very hard at the commencement, ere it was finished, the ordinary indications of death were visible, and without the slightest struggle he ceased to breathe. A solemn interval of silence ensued, during which each seemed buried in his own reflections.

The Indians then sung a hymn: and before leaving the room, deeply affected as I was, I undertook to offer up the last Collect of the Burial Service,-so full of comfort and edification on such occasions; but before I had finished, the touching scene before me moved me to tears. The Indian, whose stern

nature has, in some measure, been softened by Christianity, however deeply he may feel, weeps but seldom; in his savage state, never, as it is deemed a weakness unworthy of a warrior; but on this occa sion, no sooner was the tear of christian sympathy seen to flow, than every one in the apartment yielded to the impulse. It was indeed an affecting sight; I doubt not each thought within himself, "It is good for us to be here." May God bless it to our spiritual improvement, for his dear Son's sake.

Before leaving the house, I was informed by one of his attendants, that some time before his speech failed, he told them that his time was at hand, and bade them farewell; he requested them to thank all his friends for their kindness during his sickness, and as be had not the ability to reward them he trusted God would. He desired them not to be sorry, as it was good for him to be relieved; and as his parting wish, he requested they would attend more diligently to the care of their souls, and that, whenever they thought of him, they should remember the advice he had given them.

In this peaceful state of mind, and with a firm and unwavering faith in the all-sufficient merits of his Saviour, did this lowly servant of his Master "fall asleep in Jesus."

On the Friday following, his remains were followed to the grave by a large assemblage of persons,— the white settlers in the neighbourhood uniting with their Indian brethren in this last mark of respect to departed worth.

His remains and those of his wife were deposited in the Indian burial-ground near the church, and the nation have it in contemplation, as soon as it can be procured, to erect over their graves a memorial of the esteem in which they were held.

NOTE. Our practical remarks on this history, will be given in a future number.