dead the words—“I know that my Redeemer liveth, and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God," then you impart a living principle to the lifeless effigy; you cast a sunbeam on the cold statue, that warms the heart of the Christian spectator; you quote, with holy exultation, the Saviour's declaration, “He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

I suppose the sexton, too much accustomed to the monuments of the place to feel any interest in gazing upon them, was weary of waiting for me; for a clink of his keys within a very few yards of me, told me that he was quite ready to lock the door. It would not be like Old Humphrey to go away without exchanging a word with the greyheaded man; but I soon found that he entertained very little doubt that the man must be in heaven who could cut down a Turk in the way in which the warrior had done, whose monument was then before me.

It was a sorry sight to gaze on a grey-headed man, who has no "golden hope" within him, no yearning after immortality, no heavenly home in prospect! I gave him some silver, with a few suitable tracts, and we parted. Having seen the

monuments in the church, I walked among the tombstones in the churchyard.

It was in a neglected corner, where no pathway crosses, and where the uncropped nettles grew abundantly, that I found a low stone bearing this inscription, under the name of one who had fallen asleep at a goodly old age," If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand? But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared." And on another stone, bearing the same name, and probably belonging to the same family, were graven the words,-"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief."

Such texts as these are not wont to be strewn over the resting-places of worldly-minded men, and I hoped that I was standing over the mouldering bones of two of Zion's pilgrims, who, in journeying to the heavenly city, had borne testimony of the hope that was in them.

Old Humphrey's eyes might rest upon the sod, and the nettles, and the lowly gravestones, but the thoughts of his heart were fixed on the starry pavement of the skies, the glowing gates of the holy city, the golden throne, and Him who sitteth thereon! the palm-branches! the white raiment !

16 VISIT TO A CHURCH AND CHURCHYARD.

the new song! and the glittering crown! and in spite of his predilection for crypts and cloisters, abbeys and cathedrals, relics and carvings, gildings and painted glass, he felt in his very soul that a greater glory rests on the lowly grave of a true believer in Christ, than on the sculptured monument of a worldly-minded statesman, or the statue of a conquering hero.

THE BLACKBERRIES.

DEPEND upon it there is nothing like making the best of the little trifling annoyances which, at the most, only inflict a temporary inconvenience. One day in the autumn I was in the country, when it rained very fast. I had a few miles to walk to the house of a kind and hospitable friend, and set off with a thin pair of shoes on my feet. It rained very fast, to be sure, but I hoped and trusted it would soon get finer. It was wet enough over head, and still wetter under feet; but on I trudged along the dirty lanes, holding up my umbrella. My thin shoes were a poor defence against the mud and rain. “Well, well,” said I, “they will not all be dirty lanes: I shall soon come to the fields." To the fields I came, but they were no improvement of the road, for the long grass made me miserably wet. "Well, well," said I, "the fields will not all be grass." I soon came to a piece of clover; and the round, bossy clover blossoms, saturated with rain, kept bobbing against my legs, and made me wetter

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'Well, well," said I,

than before. "the fields will not all be clover." The next was a potato field, and if the grass was bad, and the clover worse, the potato field was worst of all; for the broad leaves of the potatoes, were so many reservoirs of water, which emptied themselves upon me every time my toe caught the straggling stem of a potato. "Well, well," said I, "they will not, they cannot, all be potato fields:" so on I went, till I came into a snug lane, where the brambles, hanging in festoons from the hedges, were covered with blackberries, a fruit of which I am uncommonly fond. The storm abated; the road got drier; the sun shone in the skies; and Old Humphrey banqueted on the blackberries.

Now, when you meet with any common-place vexation, even if it be a little more trying than usual, nay, though it require double patience to endure it, be not discouraged about the matter, think of Old Humphrey and his blackberries, and, by and by, you will not only forget your trouble, but find yourself, with a grateful heart, “singing of mercy."