a cross temperament is sure to give. How often has a bright sunny day risen upon a healthy, prosperous, gay, spirited race, each hour of which, "though blessed with all that heaven can send," has been poisoned, mildewed, and rendered hateful to every member of it, by the habitual ill-humour of its head! Yet all the reprobation cast on such a one, is summed up in the gentle phrases, "He is a tiresome man," or, "She has a disagreeable temper, poor woman!" Let men see as in a glass, the hideous contrast between their crooked, crabbed natures, and the sweet image of Him who taught the doctrine of perfect love! Do this, and your labour will not be in vain. DEATH OF BURKE'S ONLY SON. Burke's son, upon whom his father has conferred something of his own celebrity, heard his parent sobbing in another room at the prospect of an event they knew to be inevitable. He rose from his bed, joined his illustrious father, and endeavoured to engage him in a cheerful conversation. Burke continued silent, choked with grief. His son again made an effort to console him. "I am under no terror," he said, "I feel myself better, and in spirits, and yet my heart flutters I know not why. Pray talk to me, sir! talk of religion, talk of morality, talk, if you will, of indifferent subjects." Here a noise attracted his notice, and he exclaimed, "Does it rain? "No; it is the rustling of the wind through the trees." The whistling of the wind and the waving of the trees brought Milton's majestic lines to his mind, and he repeated them with uncommon grace and effect "His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines; With every plant, in sign of worship wave!" A second time he took up the sublime and melodious strains, and accompanying the action to the word, waved his own hand in token of worship, and sank into the arms of his father-a corpse! Not a sensation told him that in an instant he would stand in the presence of the Creator, to whom his body was bent in homage, and whose praises still resounded from his lips. MARTYRDOM. During the persecution of the Scotch Covenanters, on the same day two women, Margaret Machlachan and Margaret Wilson, the former an aged widow, the latter a maiden of eighteen, suffered death for their religion in Wigtonshire. They were offered their lives if they would consent to abjure the cause of the insurgent covenanters, and to attend episcopal worship. They refused, and they were sentenced to be drowned. They were carried to a spot which the Solway overflows twice a day, and fastened to stakes fixed in the sand, between high and low water-mark. The elder sufferer was placed near the advancing flood, in hope that her sufferings might terrify the younger into submission. The sight was dreadful; but the courage of the survivor was sustained by an enthusiasm as lofty as any that is recorded in martyrology. She saw the sea draw nearer and nearer, but gave no signs of alarm. She prayed and sang psalms till the waves choked her voice. When she had tasted the bitterness of death, she was, by cruel mercy, unbound and restored to life. When she came to herself, her pitying friends and neighbours implored her to yield. "Dear Margaret, only say God save the King!" The poor girl, true to her stern theology, gasped out, "May God save him, if it be God's will!" Her friends crowded round the presiding officer. "She has said it; indeed, sir, she has said it." "Will she take the adjuration ?" he demanded. "Never!" she exclaimed. "I am Christ's; let me go!" and the waters closed over her for the last time. -Macaulay. TREES INCASED IN STONE. The American Journal of Science, for March, contains a letter from the Rev. C. S. Lyman, now in California, describing the appearance of the "Old Crater," of Kilauea, Hawaii, as he saw it last year. The Old Crater is a pit a mile in diameter, and 600 feet deep. The bottom is covered with lava in thick strata, resembling cakes of ice in a pond that has been drawn dry. Scattered around are a great number of protuberances and columns, from one to two feet in diameter, from one to twenty feet high. On breaking down these pillars, they are found to be tubes of stone from two to six inches thick, filled with charcoal, and the stones injected into the seams of charcoal. The explanation given by Mr. Lyman, is that at the eruption in 1832, the lava flowed into this crater to the depth of forty or fifty feet. The surface had been previously filled with standing trees, which were instantly converted into charcoal. The lava being soon drawn off through a side fissure, cooled around these trees, and formed the pillars, while the surface crust formed the huge cakes that covered that level. THE CHRISTIAN NEGRO. A gentleman, walking one day on his plantation in the West Indies, perceived some peas growing between the rows of sugar-canes that were quite ripe. Knowing that the slaves were short of food, from the little time allowed them to work in their patches of land, he called to one of them who was near, and asked him why he did not take those peas? "They are not mine," answered the negro. "Oh, fellow!" replied the master, "you think everything yours that you can lay your hands on." "No, massa," said the slave, "negro who pray, no thieve!" The planter was struck with surprise. "What have I been about," he exclaimed, "not to let the missionaries come upon my estate?" So he sat down directly, and wrote to a missionary who lived near, and begged him to come and preach to his slaves as often as he pleased. FOR A MISSIONARY COLLECTING CARD A beggar I stand at your door, Yet nothing I want for myself; Who sit in the shadow of death. Who know not the Saviour of men, SELF-RELIANCE. Were we to ask a hundred men, who from small beginnings have attained a condition of respectability and affluence, to what they imputed their success in life, the general answer would be, "It was from being early compelled to think for and to depend on ourselves." Biography. DYING HOURS OF EDWARD BAINES, LATE M.P. FOR LEEDS. IN our last Number we could only afford time for a general notice of this important work; we nevertheless set forth, at length, the character of its admirable subject, drawn by the skilful and upright hand of his filial biographer. But that character, notwithstanding its truth and its beauty, is not by any means the most valuable portion of the Volume. The work is a whole; and to be rightly appreciated, every page of it must be read, compared, contrasted, examined, and analyzed. We have, in the columns of the British Banner, given an ample digest of the whole; but that digest, from the very abundance and richness of its secular and political matter, is not exactly suited to the pages of such a publication as the CHRISTIAN WITNESS. We have, therefore, confined it to the columns of the above Journal, and reserved to this place the record of a scene that would be less in point there, but which will commend itself to the hearts of all who have been taught of God, and who have begun to realize the fact that they are dying men, and soon must quit the present sphere. We refer to the last hours of the excellent individual on earth, while he lay on the sides of eternity, and took his last long adieu of his affectionate household. Like another, a well-known man, of classic fame, in similar circumstances, but of a very different order, having "taught them how to live, he taught them how to die." Would that a like tale could be told of all prosperous tradesmen, and of all patriotic senators! But, alas! few of either class so leave the world. It is generally the only hour -at least, the chief-in their lives, when their true condition is made fully apparent, when their race is run, their work done, and it is discovered that all has been but "vanity and vexation of spirit." It is the hour when admiration abates, and when envy dies-an hour which shows that they have been "disquieted in vain." Who, while they looked on the death-bed of a Pitt or of a Sheridan, of a Fox or a Curran, felt the risings of an emotion that prompted a desire so to leave the world? Mr. Edward Baines, on the contrary, under these circumstances, presented by far a more attractive and even lovely picture than at any previous stage of his prosperous and happy career. The spectacle was full of moral beauty and spiritual attraction. Simply to behold was to admire the riches of Divine grace, to congratulate its expiring subject, and to feel constrained to exclaim, in the words of inspiration, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!" "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." Taking the late Mr. Baines for all in all, as we hold his Memoir to be a model, we consider himself to be a superior pattern of a finished British citizen. We scarcely know where most to admire him, in his family, in his business, as a citizen, or as a senator-living or dying, all is wisdom, order, benevolence, and beauty! We count it a pleasure to have had a somewhat slight acquaintance with such a man. We cannot close without making a special acknowledgment here, as we have done elsewhere, of the consideration due to the enlightened piety and manly recti tude of the Biographer, who, from first to last, seems to have written as a man upon oath, everywhere and in every matter declaring the thing as he found it. There is one point which will prove of fensive to an infidel and a godless world, and which must of necessity affect the reception which the Work will receive at the hands of the secular Press. With some in that quarter, for Mr. Baines to have been even a speculative Dissenter, although he had lived and died a man of the world, would have been crime enough; but when to practical Dissent sincere piety is added, the offence is aggravated a thousand-fold! This is too bad to be forgiven; and, at the outset, it will, in most cases, at once so blind the critic, that he will be able to see in the subject of the Volume neither superior sense nor superior talents-public virtues nor public services! For a man so skilled in the ways of men—and especially of literary men—as the Biographer, with these facts staring him in the face, to have done justice so ample—although in a manner so discreet to the religious character of his deceased parent, is a deed which unspeakably redounds to his honour, and which entitles him to the thanks and the admiration of every man who is capable of appreciating manly spirit, consistent action, and distinguished worth. But we must now withdraw, and give place to the Dead, that he may speak. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." DYING CHAMBER. Throughout his whole illness his patience and gentleness were most characteristic; not a murmur or expression of impatience ever escaped him. Mr. Baines's mind retained its wonted composure and clearness, undisturbed either by excitement or depression. His prevailing frame, however, was humility and self-distrust, combined with a poweful sense of the infinite goodness and mercy of God, especially in the work of salvation through his Son. He complained that his faith was languid; and it may not be uninstructive to give the words in which he expressed, at the close of a life in human estimation so blameless and useful, his own sense of his merits. "When I consider my own imperfections," he said, "it seems impossible that the Almighty should ever look upon me with favour; I have done so much that I ought not to have done, and left undone so much I ought to have performed." And on another occasion, when the text was mentioned, "Going about to establish our own righteousness," he remarked, "That has never been my besetment at all. I see so much of my own sinfulness and unworthiness, that I have no confidence whatever in myself. But I wish I had more intense feelings." It was remarked that his feelings were not intense on any subject; and he admitted that it was so. An opportunity was taken by one of his sons to inquire if, on looking back, he felt satisfied as to the principles that had been advocated in the Mercury,-if they were such as he could reflect on with satisfaction in the sight of God and man? He replied " Yes, entirely so; I see nothing to alter." The question was then asked if he thought there was anything wrong in their position as to politics, or in the conduct of their business; was there anything he had to suggest? He replied deliberately-" No. Our business, like the British Constitution, seems to have grown up gradually, but it is in such a position that one could hardly wish it to be otherwise. I see nothing to regret or to wish altered, either in regard to our politics, or the moral principles inculcated in the paper, or, above all, the religious principles which have governed it, especially since it has been under your control. We are in the desirable position of being removed from temptation. Our position is independent." Whilst Mr. Baines lay upon his deathbed, his distinguished friend, the Rev. Dr. Hamilton, was called to his rest,having died, of erysipelas, on the 18th of July. The event dwelt much on his mind, and he repeated with interest the words in which the dying minister had expressed his joyful anticipations of a better world. On Sunday, the 30th of July, many of Mr. Baines's family had gone to Belgrave chapel in the morning, to hear the Rev. Dr. Raffles preach a funeral sermon for the deceased pastor. They were, however, called out of chapel, and informed that their parent had changed for the worse, and an early dissolution was expected. Hastening to his bed-side, they found him apparently almost insensible, and with a death-like countenance. The arrival of the medical man and the administration of stimulants caused him to rally: he looked round, and, seeing his family assembled, he understood their apprehensions. One of his daughters asked, "Do you know us all, father? He replied in a faint yet distinct voice, "Yes, and love you all as tenderly as ever. It is a great consolation to me to see you all in so hopeful a state. Next to the assurance that one's self is interested in the love of God, is the happiness and joy of knowing that those we tenderly love are in possession of that great blessing." In reply to a question about his illness, he said, "There is a kind of alternation-sometimes a little improvement, sometimes a return of debility; but all seems to tend to one natural termination." Again; "I have had much more than the average amount of comfort and happiness in this world. I should not repine at the common destiny." The remark being made, "But in the world to which you go you will have infinitely more happiness;" he replied, "Yes, it will be unmixed there." He observed at intervals subsequently, "I sometimes can hardly realize the thought of death, I feel so little of its terrors." "I sometimes feel unable to express my thoughts, but my mind has generally its usual measure of clearness." "Our much-valued friend, Dr. Hamilton, is spending his Sabbath among scenes of a very different kind from this." After having heartily responded to the sentiments contained in the beautiful hymn, beginning, "Give me the wings of faith to rise," he inquired for the faithful helpmate of fifty years, who was seated behind some of those who stood round the bed. She came close to him, and he gave her his hand in token of love, gazing on her tenderly, and as if about to bid her farewell. She, however, spoke first, reminding him of the many times they had prayed together, and then inquiring, "Can you entirely trust your soul in the hands of the Saviour? His answer was characteristic, "Yes, but I feel diffident in speaking of my own religious feelings, and wish not to use too strong expressions." Soon after, turning his eyes towards his children, he said, “Dr. Hamilton said, 'Be very kind to my wife when I am gone;' I ask you all to be very kind to your mother." In the name of all, one of his daughters responded, "We will." He continued, "I have very much reason to ask it. Through God, all the implantation of good in you has been on her part." The venerable mother here said, "I refer it all to the goodness of God, who blesses the weakest means. You will," she continued, "only precede me a short time. The most earnest desire of my soul has ever been that God would hear my prayers for your salvation. He did hear them for our children. Now, he has given me the richest consolation in seeing his work perfected in you." His mind and strength still reviving, he addressed each of his children individually. His eyes were fully open, with their usual expression of intelligence and benignity; and he spoke with a calm deliberation that enabled him to bear a protracted effort. To his eldest son, after expressing his thankfulness in looking back on his past career, which had tended to elevate the character of the rest of the family, he said, "Yours is a position exposed to many temptations ; but your conduct seems to be such, through God's grace, as proves you worthy of it. I trust God will make you useful in whatever station you may hereafter fill. You may do much good, and I hope you will do it, both in your public character and with regard to your domestic duties. In particular my wishes relate to your religious impressions. My heart's desire is that your faith may be fixed on the Rock of Ages-I hope He may be cleft for you. The prayer of my heart for your wife and children is, that they may enjoy every temporal and spiritual blessing." To another son he spoke with much love and kindness of the responsible duties he had been called to fulfil, and of the manner in which they had been discharged, and he concluded, "God bless you! I hope your family will partake in the blessing. God has called himself the God of his people to all generations. He has promised that righteous parents shall have the blessing of seeing their children righteous. I hope this will be your great felicity.' To his youngest son, he said, "If I have had any pet, it has been you, but I hope I have not shown any undue partiality." After referring with tenderness to a bereavement which his son had suffered, he continued, "Your children are at an interesting age. You are the depositary, so far as an earthly parent so concerned as you must be for them can be, of their interests: you are the guardian of their youth: I may say with confident reliance that you devote yourself to them, and endeavour to make them wise and good in their day and generation, that among other things your own example in all things will be a great stimulus to them: they will have a higher and nobler example, even the example set by that Being, that Almighty Power, that came on earth to diffuse happiness and salvation, and to establish a kingdom that is now spreading far and wide. During the few years of his ministry that kingdom was begun, but it will in time spread from pole to pole, and be the only known faith-a faith of truth and goodness. May the peace that passeth all understanding keep your heart and mind in the knowledge and love of Him! May your children be as obedient as my children have been! I am sure that would be the true source of their felicity." He comforted one of his daughters, who had recently lost a son, by reminding her that God does all things well; and he expressed his hope for the rest of her children; and also again committed her mother to the watchful care of her daughters. To his other daughters he addressed appropriate and most tender words of encouragement and counsel. He expressed his hope for the happiness of the church with which he had been connected, and his conviction that the great Head of the church would provide for it a pastor. To one of his daughters he said, "Your children are fine promising children: I hope they will be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, that when they come to the solemn moment that closes human life, they may be prepared to meet their God with joy, and triumph, and assurance. One great means of attaining this end is good religious instruction, and the discipline and management of a well-regulated family. One great secret in the training of families is to have regular family prayer. It keeps them from going astray, and keeps them under the blessing of their God and Saviour. Family prayer is a silent and perpetual monitor, acting to reprove whatever is wrong, and to set it right; but if not adhered to perseveringly, it becomes lax, and in proportion as families are lax in their resort to the domestic altar, in the same degree they are in danger of relaxing in all their great religious duties. I hope God will bless and preserve you and yours." He also addressed shortly three of his grandchildren who were present, and kindly took leave of two boys in his employment, the sons of town-missionaries, and sent his respects to their fathers. This remarkable and never-to-be-forgotten scene, over which there reigned a patriarchal dignity and melting tenderness, lasted not less than an hour and a half. From this sacred day to the following Thursday Mr. Baines gradually sunk. His patience, meekness, and humility, his tenderness towards his family, and consideration for all around him, were invariable; but mortal weakness caused a considerable portion of the time to be VOL. VIII. passed in lethargy and apparent unconsciousness. When able to listen, he enjoyed the reading, and still more the singing of hymns by his daughters. Among them he asked for the beautiful hymn of Lord Glenelg, beginning "When days are dark, and friends are few." On the Wednesday evening, when his weakness was so great that the female members of the family were with difficulty persuaded to retire to rest, leaving him in the care of his sons and attendants, his wife took leave for the night, and, steadfastly regarding him as he lay sunk in lethargic slumber, she twice kissed his cheek, saying, To the Almighty Saviour I commend this precious body and soul!" During the whole illness she watched over his bed with anxious love, well aware of the probable termination: a calm and elevated faith, a holy submission and the serenity of one who herself anticipated death and heaven as near at hand, had marked her countenance whilst gently moving about the chamber, and performing offices of tenderness; and more than once, alluding to the fact that the month when the illness commenced (the second day of the month) was the fiftieth anniversary of their marriage, she touchingly repeated the lines, "The year of Jubilee is come, Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home." Mr. Baines changed for death about eleven o'clock in the forenoon of Thursday, the third of August. Sensible that his end was approaching, he looked on his assembled family with a placid smile, raised his arms, and faintly said, “The Lord bless you! "The grace and love of our Lord and Saviour be with you all!" He added with feeble and broken utterance, "This is a solemn scene. We must now part, but the season of separation will be as a speck of time, and I trust we shall be reunited in a world of eternal blessedness and glory. Good bye!" He seemed to wish to say more, but was so much exhausted as to be compelled to exclaim, in a faint whisper, "This is almost more than I can sustain." Soon afterwards a verse of Dr. Watts's was repeated of which he was fond, and which his friend, Mr. Rawson, had quoted to him, mentioning also that Dr. M'All had said near the close of his life that he would rather have written that verse than "Paradise Lost:" Y |