intercession for us, his cry was heard; but if it was the will of a merciful and loving FATHER to make that short time avail to his repentance, it should not encourage us to go on heedlessly, trusting to the like mercies; but warn us to work whilst it is yet time, lest despising God's warnings, we perish everlastingly."

Mr. Mordaunt paused; but finding that Ellen was silent, and that her tears fell fast, he continued; "I should not have said so much to you on our first meeting, had it not been for your brother's request. He spoke of you with the most affectionate earnestness: he said that your heart had not been hardened like his, with the world's contact; that it was open to religious truth; but that you knew not where to seek it; and he asked me to stand with you by the side of his grave, and tell you—they were his own words that he prayed most devoutly you might be fitter to die than he was."

Ellen clasped her hands, and exclaimed beseechingly, "But he is gone to heaven, oh is he not ?"

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"It is not ours to decide whether any sin-stained being has found acceptance there," Mr. Mordaunt answered solemnly: the holiest and purest have perhaps ever felt most deeply their own utter unworthiness of heaven, save through the merits of our Blessed SAVIOUR: nor is the unrepenting sinner farther from it than he who hopes to win it by his own righteousness. I believe your brother to have felt most fully, that except in the boundless depth of CHRIST's redeeming Blood, he had no hope of salvation; and through that, I entertain a humble hope of his pardon and acceptance."

It was growing late; and Ellen, whose heart was too full to speak, looked gratefully at Mr. Mordaunt, and returned home. New thoughts were aroused within her, new duties, and new hopes; and she looked less inclined to look with envy on the mourners in a foreign land, who had appeared to her to have so much more help and comfort than (as she erroneously believed) her religion afforded. The indistinct formal compliance with certain forms, which she felt was nearly all she had hitherto given, seemed now a mockery: one great object must henceforward be hers:-to fulfil Wilfrid's last wish, and learn how to die.

It was with some difficulty that Ellen persuaded her parents to see Mr. Mordaunt, and hear from him the account of their son's last illness they professed themselves unequal to seeing any strangers, and scarcely listened to Ellen's whispered remark, that their parish priest, and one who had shown such kindness to Wilfrid, could hardly be called a stranger. The truth was, that both Sir John and Lady Elter disliked the idea of Mr. Mordaunt's interference, as they considered it; and feared that he would obtrude religious conversation, which would be disagreeable.

When at last they consented to receive him, their manner was cold and distant; but gradually their prejudices wore away, and both parents listened eagerly to the particulars which Mr. Mordaunt had to relate; and though carefully avoiding any appearance of seeking their confidence, he had the satisfaction of observing that a new chord seemed touched, beside that of natural sorrow.

GOD has, in His wisdom, given to the heart of the young greater facilities for receiving the impressions of His holy truth than are often found in such as have advanced in years, without likewise advancing in love and knowledge of Him. To Ellen, there was nothing but peace and comfort in seeking to fulfil her brother's dying wish, and from the beginning she tasted the blessing promised to such as seek the LORD. The daily service, to which at first she went rather from a feeling that it was right, than from any strong delight therein, soon became the point of rest and comfort to which she looked through the day; and seldom did she leave the Church, without feeling calmer and happier than before. Ellen rarely omitted her visit to the two graves, (so intimately connected in her mind,) and sitting between them, she meditated on the solemn hour of death, which must come to her, as certainly as it had come to those, whose graves rose in the green turf all around her. Little Alice frequently joined her, and her simple, childish talk of Willie, heaven, and the angels, (for in her mind they were inseparably connected,) would frequently turn Ellen's thoughts from more anxious topics to trusting love, peace, and faith. In Mr. Mordaunt, Ellen found an always ready and kind guide: from asking questions innumerable about Wilfrid, she ventured to seek for herself help and counsel, and direction for her too often perplexed, confused thoughts; nor were they ever refused her; and when Ellen gazed on his mild, thoughtful countenance, which told of heavy afflictions borne in trusting, humble resignation, she felt that there is a consolation,

"Which only souls in suffering tried,

Bear to their suffering brethren's side."

When I joined my brother at Kirkbeck, Ellen was almost as regular an attendant at all the Church services as my brother's household; but excepting on Sunday, her parents never appeared. I knew that Ellen had expressed to Mr. Mordaunt her earnest wish that they could find the same comfort in the service that she found; and he, who knew more of the ways of the heart than she did, was satisfied that though slowly, and scarcely perceptibly to sight, the fruits of affliction were coming forth in them likewise. "While we sleep the seed springeth up.'

وو

One day Ellen and Alice were together in the churchyard; Willie and Wilfrid still the subject of their thoughts and talk. Winter was passing away, and the cold, northern spring beginning.

Alice had brought a few early snowdrops to lay upon the two graves. It was bleak and chilly, and Ellen said, "We must not stay, Alice, or you will look as white as these poor little flowers." Before leaving, they knelt together for their usual prayer; and on rising, Ellen saw her father near. He was leaning against a tombstone, his eyes were full of tears, and he held his hat in his hand, as though he had been joining in their prayer. He took Ellen's arm within his, and they walked some time together, in earnest conversation. That day Sir John knelt by his daughter's side in Church; and as he left, the villagers (who all loved him, for he was a kind landlord) remarked that though there were tears in his eyes, he looked less miserable and heartbroken than had been his wont. From that time Sir John often accompanied Ellen; and not unfrequently, Lady Elter was persuaded to time her drive so as to meet them at the church door. It is impossible that any one can habitually attend in GoD's house, and join in the solemn petitions of our beautiful Liturgy, without feeling the influence on their whole frame of mind. Both Sir John and Lady Elter seemed altogether softened, as well as cheered. They gradually sought more and more the society of their Vicar, and appeared to forget the prejudice they had entertained against his " overstrictness." Their conversation almost always recurred to the death-bed of their son; and it was a subject which enabled him, by almost insensible degrees, to lead them to speak of matters which concern us all more deeply than any belonging to this earth of the "forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

وو

Towards the end of Lent, Ellen had a severe illness, which for a few days caused the greatest anxiety, and during those days it was a touching sight to see her father kneeling alone in his wonted place, praying doubtless for her, who had first led him to find help and comfort in such prayers. But the Elters were not called upon to prove their submission, by losing Ellen. She recovered rapidly; and on Easter Day the three came together to the holy altar (it was the parents' first time since their bereavement); and if they did not forget their dear one, whose tomb was so near to them, they thought of him without bitterness or repining.

One summer evening, as Ellen and Alice were decking the graves with flowers, I heard Ellen say, "Ah! Alice, Willie wished to be a Clergyman, and teach people to be good.-See how his last wish has been fulfilled even in his death; for he made Wilfrid think first, and so we were all led on too. It may be a fanciful notion, but I think I shall know Willie amongst all the blessed when we meet in heaven."-From Tales of Kirkbeck.

ARCHDEACON HARRISON'S CHARGE.

DEEP, sincere, and all but universal, was the grief with which churchmen, at home and abroad, received the news of the death of the late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. During his lifetime he had won the affections of all; and yet no party could claim him as theirs. Men of varying shades of opinions always looked up to him with respect. Whilst he was with us, ruling us with mild and gentle sway, we might at times wish for stronger measures; but now that we no longer hear his voice, we recal its accents, and dwell upon his words with reverent love. His public acts are before all his private life could be known only by those who had the privilege of being more closely acquainted with him. Amongst those who enjoyed this advantage is the Venerable Archdeacon Harrison, who has, in a recent charge, drawn a portraiture of the many virtues by which His Grace was distinguished. As this tribute of affection will probably be in the hands of only a few of our readers, we are confident that we shall be affording them no småll gratification, if we make some pretty lengthy extracts from it. The Archdeacon thus touchingly introduces the subject:

It falls therefore to my lot to exercise, as Archdeacon, the ordinary visitatorial function, which would otherwise have been suspended on this occasion, and merged in the higher office of the Diocesan. Nor, indeed, have I wished to shrink from the fulfilment of the duty, even though it involved something of personal feeling. We know how the removal of an earthly parent from the head of a bereaved family is wont to gather his children together to pay the last tribute of dutiful reverence and affection; and on such occasions sympathy is increased, and love cherished, and the natural ties which should bind closely together the brethren of one family are renewed with a sacred strength. Under the influence of a similar feeling, I have even desired, my reverend brethren, to enjoy the satisfaction of assembling you with me on this occasion, and claiming, by virtue of my office towards you, that which in the language of patriarchal simplicity is spoken of as one of the prerogatives of the place of honour, partaking of a privilege next to that which distinguishes the seat of authoritythe sitting" chief," not so much as one having command "in the spiritual" army," but rather "as one that comforteth the mourners."

After some other remarks of a like character, he proceeds:

Of the benevolence and tenderness of heart which so remarkably distinguished the Archbishop; the kindly affection, the unwillingness to inflict pain or cause a wound, unless duty absolutely required it; of that spirit of Christian love which "suffereth long and is kind," which "beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things;" of this spirit shed abroad, in large and over

flowing measure, over all that he said or did, it is superfluous for me to speak; for none could look upon the beaming countenance, and not see these things written there in characters "known and read of all men." And not less manifest was his attainment of that without which true charity can never so establish her supreme sway-I mean the habitual self-government of the subdued and well regulated mind; which was not less clearly revealed in the outward lineaments than was the spirit of benevolence and love to others: the placid temper which bore witness to vigilant self-discipline; for it was no mere accompaniment of constitutional insensibility or indifference, but in reality held sovereign control over a more than ordinary keenness of feeling, and quick susceptibility of impression. And, as the natural result of the perfect self-government thus acquired, there was unequivocally marked the presence of peace within, unruffled amidst manifold disquiet, imperturbable amidst many provocations.

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And the foundation of that perfect charity, and of this inward peace, which both bore witness to its presence and tended to produce it, was laid in genuine, unfeigned humility. Charity," saith the Apostle, "vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own," and therefore again, "is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil." That which was pre-eminently characteristic of our Archbishop was an humble-mindedness, a meekness and lowliness of heart, which, perfecting into the highest Christian grace the genuine growth of natural kindliness and benevolence of feeling, made him, in the special sense of the term "meekness,' willing to endure wrong, slow to resent or to realize an injury, easily dismissing the recollection of it. And this is the very character of which the Apostle, in another place, has thus traced the outline; humility being, as it were, the centre grace, charity the crowning virtue, and the result of all, that heavenly peace of mind which has GOD for its Author, and heaven for its home. "Put on therefore," saith he, "as the elect of GOD, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering; forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any; even as CHRIST forgave you, so also do ye. And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts." And if these were the striking features of the character of our departed Father, even to the eye of the casual observer, the "mind" which was in him could not be essentially other than that "which was also in CHRIST JESUS," in Him Who, Himself our Divine and perfect Exemplar, hath said to His disciples, "Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

But as the kindness and benevolence of heart of which we have been speaking, was something very different from mere easiness of natural temper, so also was the meek humility something which was perfectly consistent with-nay, rather, which naturally produced, as its inseparable result,-a peculiar indescribable dignity. There was, in fact, in him that entire forgetfulness of self which has in it the very essential character of dignity, inasmuch as the individual is