only give you one more instance of what may indeed be called a happy death.

A friend of mine, who was very intimate with the late Dr. Andrews, Dean of Canterbury, and Rector of Saint James's, Westminster, an exemplary clergyman, a most forcible preacher, and indefatigable in his efforts to do good of all kinds, called on me one day, immediately after visiting the Dean, then fast sinking under the infirmities of age, and said he knew not which preponderated in his mind, his regret for the impending loss of his excellent friend, or his pleasure in witnessing the happy frame of his mind. He had expressed himself as equally willing to stay or go; and that he had. set his house in order, and was ready to depart in peace.

I will now read

appropriate to this

you some lines very subject, by a very

amiable and truly Christian poet, Cowper.

So life glides smoothly and by stealth away,
More golden than that age of fabled gold
Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care
Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd
Of God and man, and peaceful in its end.
So glide my life away! and so at last,
My share of duties decently fulfilled,
May some disease, not tardy to perform
Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke,
Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat,

Beneath the turf, that I have often trod.

Also some by Keble, a still living author, whose verses are as full of piety as poetry. Speaking of those who humbly trust in God's mercy for forgiveness and acceptance, he says,

These in life's distant even
Shall shine serenely bright,

As in th' autumnal heaven

Mild rainbow tints at night,

When the last shower is stealing down,

And ere they sink to rest,

The sun-beams weave a parting crown

For some sweet woodland nest.

The promise of the morrow
Is glorious on that eve,
Dear as the holy sorrow
When good men cease to live.
When brightening ere it die away
Mounts up their altar flame,
Still tending with intenser ray
To Heaven whence first it came.
Say not it dies, that glory;
'Tis caught unquench'd on high;
Those saintlike brows so hoary
Shall wear it in the sky.

No smile is like the smile of death,
When all good musings past

Rise wafted with the parted breath, The sweetest thought the last.

CONVERSATION SIXTH.

MAMMA.

Where have
Where have you been so

so long, my little boy?

CHARLES. I have been watching the shepherd preparing the fold for the sheep, and turning them into it. It is so curious to see how

they seem to understand him ; and how, if they do not obey him directly, the dog comprehends his slightest signal, and makes them do whatever he wishes. It made me think of the Gospel for last Sunday, where it is said by our Saviour, "I am the good Shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine."

MAMMA. There are many allusions to sheep in the Bible.

CHARLES.

Yes. I like that so much when our Lord was talking to Peter after His resurrection, and asking him whether he loved Him, and when Peter assured Him he did, Jesus said to him, "Feed my Lambs,

feed my sheep!"* I think that sounds so kind and comfortable, for I suppose we are to understand from it, that Jesus cared for all those who love and serve Him as a shepherd does for his sheep, and that He told Peter, as a proof of his love, to be good to them, and to teach the Gospel to all who needed it.

MAMMA. You have given a very just explanation of that passage. It is indeed most comfortable to think we have so kind and merciful a Judge, Mediator, and Director of all events. He seems to have taken pains to

* St. John XXI. 15, 16.

K