mistaken and violent people calling after him the opprobious epithet of "Black Sheep," a term which was well understood amongst the idle of the lower class, as a kind of watch-word for an attack: but God stilled the violence of the people, so that none were permitted to harm him.

During all the excitement of these circumstances, he steadily attended to his ministerial duties, both in town and country, though many of the friends would fain have dissuaded him from going to some of the lonely country appointments, where they feared he might be waylaid; but he preferred risking his life in the path of duty, rather than to neglect any portion of his charge: his reply generally was, "I am immortal till my work is done," or, "There will be time enough to rest in the grave: I must work while it is called to-day." After a season the storm ceased, and there was a calm; and many who had been his opponents felt that he was right, and respected him for his faithfulness.

His next appointment was to Great-Yarmouth, in which place he was made very useful, and had the pleasure, in the third year, to be most actively employed in preparations for a new and commodious chapel. Often was he engaged till midnight in attending Committees, or consulting the friends. His heart and soul were in the blessed work, and greatly did he rejoice, when he found that money sufficient could be raised, to warrant a commencement of the undertaking.

Yet, notwithstanding the joy he felt, when the desire of his heart was completed, beholding the sacred edifice in which he had so often preached the word of salvation, taken to pieces by the workmen, he was affected even to tears: on my inquiring why he so felt, when it was such a cause of gratulation that a nobler building had sprung up, he replied, "When the foundation of the second temple was laid, the old men lifted up their voices and wept,' when they remembered the first temple; and," said he, "when I look in and see them demolishing the building, where I have so often felt God to warm my heart with his love, I cannot refrain from tears."

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From Great-Yarmouth he went to Lynn, and there met with much affection. In the winter his health failed, and he suffered greatly: still, as long as it was possible, he continued his pastoral duties. He felt it required more grace to acquiesce in the will of God that he should be laid by, than that he should continue to spend and be spent for him and surely none know the poignant feelings of a Minister in such a case, without having experienced them. For forty years he had been laboriously and actively employed in the vineyard; but at last the body began to sink beneath such ceaseless exertions, and could no longer do the spirit's bidding. It pleased the blessed God who had at first called his servant into his service, now to tell him to retire, to seek the shade. He felt it was not for a servant to choose or dictate to his Lord, but meekly take the post assigned. He obeyed in the spirit of meekness, and retired to his old Circuit, Great-Yarmouth, as a Supernumerary.

About this period he thus writes to my brother:-" Forty years ago

this month, I began my ministerial career. What hath God wrought! My race has been much longer than the general race of Preachers; but I am sorry to say that at last I am obliged to halt; and I expect at the next Conference to be obliged to leave the field. What a mercy that I leave it not as a deserter or a coward, but retire from it as a wounded officer in the honourable service of the Captain of our salvation ! I feel a desire, if it be the will of our heavenly Father, to be his public servant for one year more, that I may preach as I have never preached before; but this I must leave with Him, with whom one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.' I trust I am ready to do, or willing to suffer, as shall be most for the glory of Him whose I am, and whom I serve."

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In December, 1841, he again writes:-"I feel more and more that I am on the down-hill of life; and the pressure of old age directs my attention more solemnly to the momentous concerns of futurity. I feel it a great mercy, now that I am old and grey-headed, to be able to look on a long life of devotedness to God. At the early age of fourteen, I felt the love of God to warm my heart, and was led to pity those who had no part or lot in the best things. Since that period, how numerous and terrific have my dangers been! yet the Lord hath always been my shield and buckler. If the storm has come down upon the lake of life, it has always bowed to the mandate of the Galilean Pilot, and the cheering voice of ، Peace, be still ! ' has endeared more and more to my head and heart that Friend which sticketh closer than a brother. I would not part with my golden prospects of glory, immortality, and God, for ten thousand worlds. I think at times, what a transport of joy must that be, to sit down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb, and sing the high-sounding praises of the triune God for ever and ever!"

In a letter, dated April, 1844, he says :-- I have not been able to preach lately; and think that high, that honourable work is nearly completed. Instead of occupying the pulpit, I can only look at it; and, instead of singing in it, I can only sigh on the outside! O what a reverse! a reverse of a humiliating description; but one that I am capable of meeting with Christian submission to the will of my heavenly Father ! Grace in the heart, and glory in reversion, enables me to say, 'Even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in thy sight." O how thankful ought I to be, to think that for forty-six years I have been allowed to work in the Lord's vineyard! It was in February, 1798, that I entered upon the Missionary work, and yoked myself to that noble car; and what a mercy to think, that during so many years' service, I have never been drummed out of the regiment ! Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!"

"May 27th, 1845.-Last night was our Missionary Meeting; but I was shut up in my domestic cage; and there all I could do was to sing and make melody in my heart to Him whose altar is all space.' What a mercy that I know I am on my journey home, where I shall sing with the seraph, more sweet, more loud, and Jesus be my

song!' O what a prospect! and, if faithful, O what a certainty of arriving at last where

'Joys ambrosial clustering glow

In his full beam, and ripen for the just!'"

In June, 1845, my dear father removed from Great-Yarmouth to Newark, which was thought by his Doctor to be more suited to his delicate state of health.

His removal to this place was only about three months previous to his sudden demise; and during that brief space his health and strength improved so rapidly, that he had the inexpressible pleasure of again occupying the pulpit, (the most loved spot by him on earth,) and of crying again, "Behold! behold the Lamb!"

July 21st, he writes to my brother as follows::- "I have preached a few times here since my arrival; and the friends appear to possess all their old attachment, with interest. I hope shortly to spend a little time with you on my way to a better country. O what a mercy it is, that while our journey is a 'stormy maze,' we may march upwards still! Everything about me seems stiffened by the lapse of years, and the pins of the tabernacle seem to be very loose: I feel it is all coming down together; but the Architect informs me that the materials will work in to form a very superior mansion."

Though my beloved parent kept no record of his experience in later years, all who knew him can testify that his path was that of the "just, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day." He never became weary in well-doing. Often, when his physical powers were exhausted with his pulpit and pastoral duties, would he exclaim, "I am weary in the work, but not of it!" He was truly "a workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." He did not feed his flock with that which cost him nothing; but he studied to show himself approved, and to prepare that intellectual and spiritual repast which was suited to their high and eternal destinies ; and never was he so happy as when dealing the bread of life to poor, perishing sinners, comforting those who were cast down, pouring the oil and wine of sympathy into the wounds of the afflicted, and building up believers on their most holy faith. He was ever employed about his Master's business, in season and out of season. He was not what is generally termed a revivalist; but in whatever Circuit he travelled, there was prosperity. He was a strict disciplinarian, and yet had the happy art of governing by love. He paid great attention to the secular concerns of each Circuit committed to his care; was indefatigable in his endeavours to augment the funds of the various institutions which we have amongst us as a body; but was particularly zealous on behalf of the Missions.

His favourite topic, both in the pulpit and out of it, was heaven. When descanting thereon, he seemed emancipated from earth; on the broad pinions of faith he soared to paradise; and though "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard," what God hath prepared for them that love Him, yet what was revealed to him by Scripture, and by the Spirit of

God, filled him with joyful anticipation and holy longing. Often did his feelings overpower him, and prevent articulation, or rather were expressed by the rolling tear; a language which all understood, and the pathos and eloquence of which deeply affected his auditory.

The Bible was his constant study, his constant delight; and as he neared the verge of life, all other books seemed to diminish in value. The word of God was his treasure; and perhaps there have been but few who have made so much of its contents their own as he did. His quotations were remarkable for their accuracy; for he took the sacred volume as a scholar takes his lesson in his hand, to commit to memory with syllabical scrupulosity. As the Jews used to bind their phylacteries to their foreheads or their arms, so did he bind the Bible to his memory and his heart.

He would not allow himself in any unnecessary indulgence of the flesh; indeed, it was with difficulty he could be prevailed on to allow himself a few extra comforts, which were deemed necessary for his increasing debility. His reply would be, "It ill accords with St. Paul's injunction, to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.'"

His originality, wit, and cheerfulness, will never be forgotten by his friends; but he had the greatest repugnance to the use of Scripture phrases for repartee; his tender conscience recoiled at the sacred word being used to produce a smile: whenever he took it within his lips, it was with reverence and awe. Rarely did he pass an hour with his friends without praying with them before he left; and his prayers were the breathing of his full soul to his divine Friend,—unbosoming himself to the Deity. And O how fervent were his supplications for those who had sought an interest in his petitions! and when he arose from his knees, there was such benignity and reverence stamped upon his countenance, that it reminded us of

"The solemn awe which dares not move,

And all the silent heaven of love."

He had not been

His knowledge of human nature was extensive. an unobservant pilgrim while passing through the world; for though he "sought a city out of sight," he was not one of those visionaries who care not for anything below. When called on in his official character to investigate a matter, guilt shrank from his penetration, while innocence rejoiced beneath the cover of his protecting wing. In argument he showed especial tact and talent, and his conversational powers were of a high order. Nothing grieved him more than idle chit-chat, which is too commonly met with in social interviews. His aim was to benefit both the head and heart of every one with whom he conversed there appeared to be a halo of sacredness resting around him.

His faith in the providence of God was unwavering; and his reliance on the promise, that "all things work together for good to them who love God," was firm; it was the rock to which he clung in the most trying storms of life; and when he could not under

stand the why or the wherefore, his faith enabled him to depend with child-like confidence on the assurance that what he knew not now he should know hereafter. He has been heard to say that only once during his long spiritual warfare, which extended to nearly fifty years,—but once, and that only for the space of half an hour,—had he ever a doubt of his acceptance with God. He could not understand, or rather had no fellowship in, the experience of those who wrestled hard with sins, and doubts, and fears. His language was, No fearing or doubting with Christ on our side."

The clear sunshine of his experience was, of course, a rich consolation to his mourning relatives, when it pleased the Lord to call him so suddenly from earth away. They needed no dying declaration to assure them that he was gone to be for ever with Him whom he delighted to serve; and they now view that as a merciful providence which saved him from the sufferings of protracted illness, and translated him to the palace of angels and God.

In August, 1845, he purposed a visit to my brother, resident in Southampton, and had also consented to take the pulpit in that place on the Sabbath. He had conned over his intended theme, and prepared it with much care, evidently anticipating with pleasure the opportunity of preaching to his old friends once more; bade adieu to those in Newark, expecting to return to them shortly, and started for London; spent a day of cheerful friendship with his relatives there, and set off in his usual health for the Vauxhall railway-station. He was scarcely seated in one of the carriages, and had said, "Good-bye," when he reclined his head, and, without a groan, expired. So gently did he pass away, that his dear wife, seated by his side, was unconscious of the event. His ear alone had caught the glad sound, "Come up hither," "enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

It was in London that he was converted, and joined the society in City-road; in London he commenced his career as Local Preacher ; in London he was ordained, and from thence departed for Jamaica ; and, after travelling forty-six years, the wonderful providence of God led him again to London, to finish his Christian course where he had commenced it, and to be laid with his fathers and brethren in the burial-ground of City-road chapel. There he sleeps in Christ, till the great waking-day.

BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.

2. DIED, September 14th, 1843, at Pickering, in the twenty-ninth year of her age, Elizabeth, daughter of the Rev. Joseph Frank, Wesleyan Minister. She was born in the year 1814, and, from a child, was seriously disposed, of a kind and cheerful temper, dutiful and affectionate to her parents, an attentive and obliging sister, and a faithful, sincere, and confidential friend. Whilst at school, she gained the esteem of her teachers in various places: one of them, a Clergyman of the Church of England, spoke very highly of her diligence in study. About the twelfth year of her age, she began to meet