consolations of religion at the bedside of the sick and dying.

On the occasion of the Bishop's last Diocesan Visitation, the medical attendant, Dr. Hyne, who, till very lately, was a stranger to him, was taken ill at Tanjore, and, growing rapidly worse, the Bishop requested that he might be removed to a room adjoining his own, that it might be more in his power to attend to him, particularly at night. This enabled him to snatch many intervals, even in the midst of his constant engagements, to sit and pray with him. Dr. Hyne's illness persisting, he was of necessity left behind at Tanjore; his lordship promising to wait for him a few days at Trichinopoly, in case he should be able, contrary to all probability, to resume his journey. The parting scene is thus recorded by Mr. Robinson :- "I cannot help mentioning a beautiful instance of the Bishop's piety and kindness, to which I was accidentally a witness this evening, as it exemplified so strongly his delight in the humblest duties of the pastoral office, and the characteristic modesty that seeks rather to conceal them from the observation of others, when no end of charity is answered by their being known. The carriage in which we were to travel the first stage of our evening march was at the door, and we were about to take leave of our kind and excellent hosts, when the Bishop excused himself for a moment, saying he must shake hands once more with his poor friend before he left him. A few minutes after, going up stairs for a book which I had forgotten, and passing by Dr. Hyne's open door, I saw the dear Bishop kneeling by his bed-side, and his hands raised in prayer.

How can I do otherwise than love this man, seeing him, as I see him, fervent in secret and individual devotion, at one hour the centre of many labours, the apostle of many nations, at another snatching the last moment to kneel by the bed of a sick and dying friend, who but a fortnight ago was a perfect stranger to him!"

Three days after this Mr. Robinson was himself writing by the lifeless body of his own "dear master." Almost the last record in his journal is that of the day preceding the Bishop's death; wherein he states,-" Our conversation this afternoon turned chiefly on the blessedness of heaven, and the best means of preparing for its enjoyment. He repeated several lines of an old Hymn which, he said, in spite of one or two expressions which familiar and injudicious use had tended to vulgarize, he admired as one of the most beautiful in our language, for a rich and elevated tone of devotional feeling

'Head of the Church triumphant !

We joyfully adore thee,' &c." *

For the particulars of this most amiable Bishop's death, and for as much interesting matter to all who wish well to the Christian religion, whether in our colonies or nearer home, as can be contained in a small 8vo volume, I refer to the memorial itself of "The Last Days of Bishop Heber."

It is fortunate for us that the public have been put in possession of autograph journals kept by two such eminently pious men as Heber and Martyn. They were

* "Hymns for Public Worship." Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.

And, far

Keenly alive to the was unable to en

equally martyrs; and I am persuaded from what I know of Martyn's natural disposition and turn of mind, that he was not less amiable than Heber; but Heber was so far of a happier temperament, that, clad as he was in robes of righteousness, the ways of religion were ever with him the ways of pleasantness and peace. He recognised " a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance." (Eccles. iii. 4.) from thinking it necessary to become either a puritan or a monk in order to become a better Christian, it is evident, from his whole demeanour, that he thought most good was to be done by a judicious conformity with the usages of the world around him. Martyn's religion was altogether of a more sombre cast. pleasure of religious sympathy, he counter the opposition of godless men with patient serenity, and forbearance from complaint. In the ship, on board of which he embarked for India, there were passengers of all descriptions; and he appears to have found it very difficult to establish a regular service once every Sunday. Such being the case, he felt that his usefulness in the ship must much depend on private ministration. Scarcely a day, therefore, passed without his going between the decks, where, to all who were willing to attend, he read some religious book (at first the " Pilgrim's Progress") upon which he commented as he went on. "Some attend fixedly; others are looking another way; some women are employed about their children, attending for a little while, and then heedless. Some rising up and going away: others taking their place; and numbers, especially of those who

have been upon watch, strewed all along upon the deck fast asleep; one or two from the upper decks looking down and listening." Such, says his biographer, is the picture he draws of his congregation below. The situation of things higher up, when he performed his weekly duty on the Sabbath, was not, according to his own statement, more encouraging. The opposition of some, and the inattention of others, put his meekness and patience very strongly to the test. "The passengers were inattentive; the officers, many of them, sat drinking; so that he could overhear their noise, and the captain was with them. 'How melancholy and humiliating,' he reflects, is this mode of public ordinances on board ship compared with the respect and joy with which the multitudes come up to hear my brethren ashore! But this prepares me for preaching amongst the heedless Gentiles.""

A little farther on in his journal, he speaks of his private meditations having been interrupted by some one coming in, who told him that many had become more hostile than ever; "they should come up to prayers, because they believed I was sincere; but not to the sermon, as I did nothing but preach about hell. I hope this portends good."

Two days after this he writes,-"Found the men forbidden to go below, so I know not how they are to be instructed."

Still, however much we may be constrained to think that Bishop Heber's more conciliatory manners would have succeeded better, it would be doing Martyn great injustice to suppose that his services and earnest suppli

cations were altogether unavailing, notwithstanding the violent opposition he experienced from many even of the more intelligent part of the passengers, and the discouraging inattention he too often perceived amongst the other class of his hearers.

66

Prior to their reaching the Cape, the ship's company were afflicted with severe dysentery. Among others who were carried off by it was a corporal, of the name of Besant, a devout soldier with whom Mr. Martyn had united in prayer, and often conversed on the things of eternity. "On this Christian brother he had," he says, "the mournful satisfaction of attending in his last illness, and afterwards of committing his body to the deep, in certain expectation that the sea should give up her dead,' and he, with him, enter into the joy of their Lord."

6

During the prevalence of the dysentery there was of course an additional call on Mr. Martyn's pastoral services; and often was he to be found by the beds of the sick, administering to them every temporal and spiritual comfort; till at length he was himself seized by that contagious disorder. Happily his illness was not of long duration, but still such as to make him think seriously of death, and employ himself in the most solemn self-examination. On which occasion, he had so much delight and joy in the consideration of heaven and of his assured title to it, that he was more desirous of dying than living: not that it was any one thing that he had done that gave him substantial reason for thinking himself in Christ-it was the bent of his affections and inclinations towards God, and the taste he had for holy pleasures and