His coffin was prepared that evening, and at eight o'clock next morning, as quietly as possible, he was conveyed in a hearse to the place of burial. No one attended but myself, and my brother, and the brother of my wife, (the minister of the place) and his son, the cousin and playfellow of the departed. I could not, if I would, describe my feelings when I saw the deep grave, and left there the earthly remains of my dear child.

I am a Father, and I write as a Father, and I cannot help it. Some may think me too sensitive. Well, I may be, but I loved that boy. My heart was bound up in the heart of the lad. A part of myself seems gone into Eternity. And many a time since have I wished I could follow him, to see where he is and to know if he is happy.

Happy, I hope, and believe, he is. My hope and faith are founded, not so much on what he said or did, though from thence I might gather hope, but on the boundless mercy of God in Christ. On this rock I rest.

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The sabbath before he died, I went up into his chamber for a minute or two. Sam, my dear lad," I said, "we know not how this illness may terminate. You have sinned Sam; but you know who came into the world to save sinners."-"Yes Father."-"Well my dear boy, dont be alarmed. You know I love you Sam, but your Heavenly Father loves you more than I

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do." During this short converse his little eyes glistened with intense interest. He seemed to devour my words. In the afternoon he sent for his Testament, and read in it as long as he could.

After the death of Samuel, the rest slowly and gradually recovered. One by one they came back to my table. My "Little Benjamin," three years old, was the first, and at length through the great mercy of God, the mother and all her children, excepting the one who was gone to the grave. During the summer we had the house thoroughly cleansed, papered, painted, and enlarged, and have since enjoyed good health, and seen no indications of a return of the fever.

Before this storm set in, I remember when I sat and thought, how remarkably we had been favoured as a family—eight children and ourselves, and we had scarcely known what illness was. I thought, this cannot always last. Something must disturb us ere long: but little did I expect such a tornado as this. Whilst the storm raged in its fury, I again sat and thought-how will my table-seats appear when all is over-who will be missing? Will the mother be gone? and how many of the children? O they formed a strong chain to bind my soul to earth! How

I loved to see them on a sabbath morning seated around the table, waiting for my usual kiss when I came down to breakfast. But the chain is broken! One link is snapped-and I shall never feel again as I felt before.

Well: these storms of afflictions which roll over our families and lay them prostrate, are, like those which visit our atmosphere, designed to purify. They convince us how frail and feeble we are--that we dwell in cottages of clay, and are crushed before the moth. They humble us in the dust before God, and teach us how dependent we are on him, for health, and strength, and comfort. They lead us too, to think of others, and sympathize with them in their afflictions. O there is a great deal of suffering in the world, which, in the enjoyment of uninterrupted health, we forget or neglect.

But how good it is, in the midst of such suffering as we were called to pass through, to have faith in the protecting care of our Heavenly Father. Natural Religion might teach us this. Jesus Christ said so, when, as you may read in the sixth chapter of the Gospel by Matthew, he pointed to the lilies and the birds, and told his followers that if God took care of them, how much more would he take care of us. I do not recollect that I had what our Lord said in my mind at the time, but I remember one morning, just when we were all at the worst, that when I got up, the snow was on the houses and trees, and the poor little birds were flying about and picking up the crumbs where they could; and when I saw them, I thought-" Doth God take care for sparrows!" And then the words of the kind Saviour came fresh and sweet into my

mind-"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."

On another dark and dreary morning-it was after the death of my boy-I recollect observing from the window of my chamber, a fine large pear-tree, which I had often noticed in the spring-season, covered with fine and fragrant blossoms. Now nothing could be seen but its dark brown trunk and branches, and yet in a few weeks it would put on signs of life, and again bear its blushing blossoms thick upon it. Ah! thought I so shall it be. My son shall rise again! I see how even trees and plants may preach of the resurrection to man; and then I thought of the Word of God, which tells us that JESUS is the Resurrection and the Life. "Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself."

Blessed Book! that tells me this, which trees and buds and blossoms might point out, but could not fully reveal!

As to my motives in writing this account of what happened in my own family, I have only to say that I am quite aware many have suffered as much or more than I have, and that they have never told to others, except by conversation, what they thought and felt under such an affliction. But I felt myself in a peculiar position. I am a maker of books for children.

I write, and print, and publish them. This affliction did not spring from the dust. God sent it and he sent it, no doubt, to do me and my family good; and I hope that effect was produced. But I thought again, this affliction may, in the providence of God, be made useful to those dear children and their parents who read my little books, and so instead of ten in my own family-ten thousand in other families may be led to think, and reflect, and prepare-to think how soon and sudden my dear boy was called away by death from his books and his play, and that they may too-to reflect on those serious matters-the soul, and death, and judgment, and heaven, and hell,-and to prepare for these great events by faith in Him who laid down his life for our salvation.

Happy those, who, believing on Him, obtain Eternal Life. They shall dwell in his presence. What a change! Earth is the scene of death. Heaven is the place of life. Here, all living things fade, and droop, and die. There all things live-they live on-they live for ever. There is the river of life, and the tree of life, and the crown of life! And the inhabitants of heaven are immortal-everlasting life is theirs. Heaven, for nearly six thousand years, has been gathering into its bosom all the excellent of the earth. May we, and all our children, not one left out, meet at last in that happy Home!

THE EDITOR.