about ten days before her death, she acknowledged that she did not count them strange, as though some strange thing had happened unto her, but rather rejoiced in being made a partaker in the sufferings of Christ, that when his glory should be revealed, she might be glad also with exceeding joy. "Ah, dearest

," she added, " may we, through our Lord's love and mercy, eventually thus rejoice with Him in glory, rest, and peace, when this passing scene shall close upon our view!"

Her hour was indeed nearly come. In the afternoon of the 11th of the Tenth month, 1845, after a day or two of considerable suffering and debility, she was suddenly attacked with pressure on the brain, and while sinking under the stroke, was heard to exclaim, "O my dear Lord, keep and help thy servant!" She soon fell into a deep slumber, and became totally unconscious; which state, notwithstanding some severe convulsions, continued almost without intermission, until, on the morning of the 13th, she quietly drew her last breath. On one occasion, however, she woke up for a few moments, and said to a faithful attendant who was beside her bed, "This is a strife, but I am SAFE." Safe she then was, doubtless, in the holy hands of the LORD, who was with her in the valley of the shadow of death. Safe she now is for ever, as we reverently, yet firmly believe, in the bosom of that adorable Redeemer, whom she ardently loved and faithfully followed.

Although she was scarcely to be numbered with the aged, hers was a LONG LIFE in the service of her God and Saviour. She died in her sixty-sixth year.

May we not entertain the joyful assurance, that "When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all his holy angels with him," this handmaid of the LORD, so remarkable for her loving spirit, and unceasing endeavours to benefit her fellow-men, will be found among those who shall receive the joyful sentence, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; sick and in prison and ye visited me.... Verily, I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto ME."

Bright and unclouded was the autumnal day, on which the funeral of this beloved and honoured one took place at Barking, in Essex, about three miles from her late abode, at Upton. While her remains were conveyed, without pomp or ostentation, towards the appointed spot, the procession was joined by a large number of carriages, filled with mourners, who came from various parts, without invitation, under the resistless impulse of true love and sympathy. In the meantime, crowds of neatly-dressed persons of the humbler classes were seen thronging the lanes and roads which led to the burial-place, all anxious

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to give the last testimony of their regard and affection for their benefactress and their friend. Affecting was the deep, but silent sorrow of the multitude which surrounded the grave, when the remains were deposited in their last earthly home; and after a short pause of great solemnity, the voice of thanksgiving was heard to ascend, under the sweet assurance that another spirit, redeemed and purified, was entered into everlasting rest and glory.

The little meeting-house of Friends at Barking, being altogether insufficient to contain the numbers, a spacious tent was pitched, under which a meeting for divine worship was afterwards held. Great quietness prevailed, and numerous were the testimonies borne, not only to the worth and excellence of the departed, but to the power and sufficiency of that "anointing grace" which made her what she was. It was a striking feature in this memorable day, that among those who addressed the company, was an individual who had once been a soldier, but who has exchanged his carnal weapons for the armour of truth and righteousness, and is become a valiant in the warfare of the Lamb. The banner of the Prince of Peace did indeed eminently overshadow that assembly; and while a deep feeling of their irreparable loss pervaded the minds of not a few, such a lively sense of her unclouded happiness was graciously permitted, that sorrow was turned into joy, and heartfelt lamentation into audible tributes of gratitude and praise.

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SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.

ON ALMSGIVING.

Give while thou canst, it is a god-like thing,
Give what thou canst, thou shalt not find it loss;
Yea, sell and give, much gain such barteries bring,"
Yea, all thou hast, and get fine gold for dross :
Still, see thou scatter wisely; for to fling

Good seed on rocks, or sands, or thorny ground,
Were not to copy Him, whose generous cross

Hath this poor world with rich salvation crown'd.
And when thou look'st on woes and want around,
Knowing that God hath lent thee all thy wealth,
That better is to give than to receive,

That riches cannot buy thee joy nor health,—
Why hinder thine own welfare? thousands grieve
Whom, if thy pitying hand will but relieve,

It shall for thine own wear the robe of gladness weave.
M. F. TUPPER.

THE exposition of our social evils,-the painful but ingenuous acknowledgment of their aggravated character and vast extent, and the earnest, the almost universal desire evinced for their correction or removal, are among the most prominent, and certainly the most gratifying features of the popular mind at the present epoch. But the corrective and eradicat

ing remedies suggested or supplied, while they derive their "form and pressure" from the philanthropic spirit of the age, partake, too, of the commercial, in their application and diffusion. We associate and combine for purposes of philanthropy and benevolence, just as we associate and combine for the formation of a railway or the sinking of a mine nor is it to be gainsaid, that many and important results flow from this combination of individuals, this aggregation of separate and scattered "appliances and means." But here, unfortunately, the charity of many takes its final stand; the annual subscription to an hospital, or the quarterly donation to a local charitable fund, is the ultima thule of their benevolence. Thus limited, the remedy is of necessity partial, and totally incommensurate with the magnitude of the evil. I speak with reference more especially to the alleviation of the misery and the relief of the destitution prevalent in the metropolis, and other densely populated towns and cities in the United Kingdom. How deeply seated, and how widely ramified that destitution is, has literally become "a tale which every day brings with it." Into the causes of that destitution I do not propose to inquire the evil is broadly and palpably before us, and by what remedy we can hope to mitigate it, is the grand problem of the day. Where are we to look for its solution? Must it be ranked with the quadrature of the circle, and other admitted impossibilities?