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instead of the smile of congratulation, though he felt that he deserved it; yet such a reception, in his present situation, would have bowed down his spirit, and the last spark of hope would have been extinguished in his soul. His susceptible mind, galled by the recollection of recent and unprovoked illtreatment, was now greatly soothed by the attention of his humane benefactor; and his countenance, which had not once assumed a smile during his sojourn from home, was now lighted up with an expression of ineffable delight.

But though restored to domestic peace and happiness, and living in the affections of the friends of his childhood, the health of Henry continued to decline; so that in a short time after his return he became unable to pursue his business: the seeds of disease had taken such deep root, as to defy the power of medicine. Consumption was insidiously, and with rapid progress, undermining his constitution. There can be no doubt that its latent advances were greatly accelerated by his frequent exposure to cold and damp, while sleeping on the bare ground. The youthful victim, however, who was now entirely confined to his chamber, possessed his soul in patience. He was calm, and even cheerful. And he contemplated his approaching dissolution with feelings of holy submission to the divine will. His affectionate Minister was often seated at his bedside, imparting to the patient sufferer the consolations of religion. By his pious instructions he became more and more established in the truth as it is in Jesus; and his soul was daily ripening for the paradise of God.

"I feel," said he, during one of his visits, "that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. My mind is kept in perfect peace. O what an unspeakable mercy that a poor sinner, such as I have been, should be thus favoured! Bless the Lord, O my soul!""

In this happy frame he continued, till the

decisive hour arrived, when he was called to exchange mortality for life.

It was on a cold, frosty morning, in the month of January, when this blissful change took place. On one side of the bed, sat Mr. Baker, with his eyes moistened with tears, watching the pallid countenance of his dying charge. On the other side, sat the pious Minister, with a Bible in his hand, from which he had been reading one of the Psalms. The winter sun peeped through the lattice, and shed his pale, sickly rays around the chamber of death. "Raise me a little," said Henry: "let me once more see the beauteous sun. I have many times rejoiced in its beams; but I shall no more behold his rising or setting. I am going to a kingdom where I shall not need his light; for there is no night there; they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light; and they shall reign for ever and ever!"

"Thy sun shall no more go down," said the Minister, quoting from the same inspired volume, as, with the assistance of Mr. Baker, he raised the head of Henry, "neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light; and the days of thy mourning shall be ended."

"For this happy change," said the expiring youth, "I am waiting. The bitterness of death is past, and I am looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, unto eternal life. O how precious is Jesus to my soul! I cannot describe to you what I feel. I have this morning had a fresh baptism of the Spirit, and a sweeter assurance of the love of Christ. O what a delightful foretaste of heaven he has given me! I long to take my everlasting flight!

For me my elder brethren stay,
And angels beckon me away;,,
And Jesus bids me come.'

Having, with a faint voice, repeated these animating lines, he sunk exhausted on his pillow, and in a few minutes sweetly breathed his soul to glory.

PUNISHMENT OF DISHONESTY

AMONG THE ROOKS.

IN correspondence with the principles of a partial development of the higher prerogatives of mental excellency, we discern in animal actions methods of proceeding which it is hard not to regard as of a moral or intellectual character, but which, on investigation, seem to be merely political. We witness among birds the execution of justice on such culprits as offend against the principles and regulations of their community. The rook offers a familiar example

of this in refusing to build its nest in privacy, or anywhere but in the neighbourhood of some dignified mansion; and as the nests of this bird require repair in spring, it often happens that the new materials are not to be obtained near at hand, and they are compelled to search for twigs at a distance, or else to break them off nearer home while in a growing condition, which is a work of much labour. To the younger members of the community, not learned in the laws of meum and tuum, this is an irksome task; and they are not long in coming to the con

clusion that much trouble may be saved by watching their opportunity, and helping themselves from the growing structures of older builders around them in their absence; little imagining, we dare say, that their proprietors will detect the loss of here one and there another of the twigs inserted in the walls of their edifices. The discovering that they have been robbed is, indeed, no small proof of observation and reasoning; for the actual carrying off of their goods is never or but rarely seen by the owners, as the rogues take care not to be caught in the fact; and we know that an egg may be taken away and the parent bird be none the wiser. Birds are more alive to the least change in the external look of the nest than to the eggs within. But the rascals among

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the rooks have little calculated on the power of observation of their older neighbours, and how well they from experience can compare the work done, and compute the time it ought to have taken if they had worked honestly and found their own materials. The wrong-doers being discovered, the punishment is appropriate to the offence: by the destruction of their dishonest work they are taught that they who build must find their own bricks or sticks, not their neighbour's; and that if they wish to live in the enjoyment of the advantages of the social condition, they must endeavour to conform their actions to the principles of the rookery of which they have been made members.Couch's Animal Instinct.

chameleons form a small genus of Saurians,

easily distinguished by the shagreened character of the skin, and the five toes on the feet divided differently from those of other animals, there being, if the expression may be allowed, two thumbs opposed to three fingers. Their eyes are telescopic, move separately, and can be directed backwards or forwards. Chameleons are slow, inoffensive, and capable of considerable abstinence from food, which consists solely of flies, caught by

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:

the rapid protrusion of a long and viscous tongue. Among themselves they are irascible, and are then liable to change their colours rapidly dark yellow or grey is predominant when they are in a quiescent state, but, while the emotions are in activity, it passes into green, purple, and even ashy black. The species found in Palestine, and all northern Africa, is the common chameleon Africanus, and is that referred to in Lev. xi. 30, where unclean animals are mentioned.

A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. AFTER wandering about the woods until my feet were blistered, I concluded to pitch my tent for the night, although the only things I had with me to make me comfortable in my solitude were an unloaded gun, a horn half full of gunpowder, and my shot-bag, empty of shot and balls. I happened to be in a deep valley, which was entirely covered with pine-trees. One of them had two large branches that shot out together about a dozen feet from the ground; and, as I had no sure way of keeping off an enemy, I managed to climb up to them, and there spent the night without once budging from my interesting roost. I was not visited by any goblins on that memorable night; but the actual miseries which ministered to me during the dark hours were quite numerous. In the first place, I had to watch the deepening shadows of the evening, tormented by hunger and thirst. Instead of having an opportunity to satisfy my own appetite, it seemed as if all the musquitos in the wilderness had assembled together for the purpose of having a feast on my own flesh and blood. But nature granted me a brief respite from this torment by causing a heavy shower to fall, which had a tendency to cool my feverish lips and brow, and allowed me a lucid interval of sleep. But this blessedness was soon ended; for, in a fit of the nightmare, I had a very narrow escape of falling to the ground. After I had fairly recovered myself, and again drunk in the horrors of a musquito dirge, I almost made up my mind to drop at any rate, and thereby end my life and the

enjoyment of my enemies. But there was soon another change in the character of my miseries. An immense owl had the impudence to perch himself on a limb above my head, whence he poured forth a flood of the most horrible screaming that mortal ever heard. Soon as the echoes thus awakened had melted into silence, a crackling sound fell upon my ear, and I beheld an old bear straggling along as if he was sure of enjoying a feast of fresh meat. He halted and snuffled around the base of a tree which stood only a few yards distant from the one I occupied, and then continued on his way. He seemed to know that human feet had lately trodden the valley; but, rationally concluding that no sensible man would remain in that particular region any longer than he could possibly help it, he did not trouble himself about the scent he had discovered. I felt grateful towards the old savage for his unintentional politeness; but if my gun had been loaded with only one ball, I should have favoured him with an unexpected salute. The hours which followed this event, and preceded the dawn, were the longest that I ever experienced. My wretchedness was indescribable. I was cold and hungry, and in a perfect fever from want of sleep, and the insect-poison infused into my whole body; but morning came at last, and with it the warm bright sunshine and the silence of the Sabbath; only a loud clear chorus of sweetest melody echoed through the pine-forest valley from the throats of a thousand feathered minstrels. On descending from my elevated position, I ascended a high hill, from whose summit I could look down upon a beautiful lake, where I saw my fellow-travellers all quietly afloat in their canoes. I loaded my gun with powder and fired a signal, which was answered by a deafening shout that was far sweeter to my ears, at that particular moment, than even the song of birds. When the Indians who had been hunting after me had returned, and when I resumed my seat in the canoe, and had a slice of cold pork between my fingers, I was perfectly happy in spite of the many jokes cracked at my expense.-Summer in the Wilderness.

LETTERS FROM THE REV. JOHN WESLEY, TO REV. JOS. TAYLOR. "London, Nov. 16th, 1788.

"DEAR JOSEPH,

"I TAKE knowledge of your spirit, and believe it is your desire to do all things right. Our friends at Newark should not have forgotten that we have determined over and over, Not to leave the Church.' Before

they had given you that foolish advice, they should have consulted me. I desire you would not wear the surplice, nor administer the Lord's Supper, any more. "I am, dear Joseph,

"Your affectionate friend and brother, "J. WESLEY.

"To Mr. Jos. Taylor, "at the Preaching-house, in Nottingham."

"London, Feb. 11th, 1789.

"DEAR JOSEPH,

"I AM glad to hear that the little stumbling-blocks in your Circuit are so happily removed. Undoubtedly, after I am gone, several of our Preachers will leave the Church: perhaps all that have not a single eye, that desire honour, or money, or anything upon earth. But I hope I shall not live to see this. While I am here, let us go on in the old way.

"There is no danger of my seeing Nottingham this year. On the 2d of March I hope to be in Bath, on the 4th at Bristol, on the 17th at Gloucester, the 21st at Birmingham, and then in Dublin as soon as I can. "I am, dear Joseph,

"Your affectionate friend and brother, "J. WESLEY.

"To Mr. Jos. Taylor, “at the Preaching-house, in Nottingham.”

"DEAR JOSEPH,

"London, Feb. 13th, 1789.

"I HAVE a business of some importance for you to transact. Pray go to my old friend, Matthew Bagshaw, and, in my name, desire of him, 1. To tell you how far John Wilson has wronged him? 2. To introduce you to Mr. Henshaw, of whom you are to inquire (and write me word directly) what he heard between John Wilson and him? Desire him also, 3. To let you know whether he has wronged any one beside, in Nottingham ? If he has, in what manner?

"If you can come clearly to the bottom of his affair, it is possible I may be of some real service to him. But till then it is not possible. For God will surely fight against him, while he continues to cover his sin.

"I am, dear Joseph,

"Your affectionate friend and brother, "J. WESLEY.

"To Mr. Jos. Taylor,

“ at the Preaching-house, in Nottingham.”

At the Conference of 1788," the Assistants were allowed a discretionary power to read the Prayer-Book in the preaching-houses on Sunday mornings," where it was deemed expedient, and the generality of the society acquiesced in it; on condition that divine service was never performed in church-hours where the preaching-houses were situated, and the people were strenuously exhorted to attend the sacrament in the parish church on those Sundays. The penny per week, and shilling per quarter, collections, were also strongly enforced; while the people were exhorted to provide more largely for those Preachers that were obliged to go from house to house for their meals, so that they might take them at their own lodgings. "Conference Plan," in connexion with the settling of chapels, was published this year, too, and collections were prohibited being made, except in the Circuits in which the chapels were to be erected. In an address to the Irish societies, the necessity of making better provision for the Preachers' wives was strongly recommended.

The

No chapel was allowed to be built in 1789, except one at Dewsbury, and those already set on foot. Among other advices and rules, the Preachers were to read the Rules of the Society in every society, once a quarter; to admit no one to the love-feasts without a society-ticket, or a note from the Assistant; to continue every watch-night till midnight; to devote the love-feast moneys conscientiously to the poor; never to go out to supper, or be later from home than nine o'clock; to dress their children according to the Rules of the Bands; to publish no books without Mr. Wesley's sanction, and to have them always printed at his press, and sold at his Bookroom; and only one Preacher to be allowed to attend the Conference from Scotland, except such as were to be admitted into full connexion.-From a Weekly Paper.

The

MEMOIR OF JOHN MILNER. METHODISM has produced many uncommon characters in the humble walks of life, who have exerted their pious influence in benighted country villages, as witnesses of the power of divine grace. native boldness and peculiarity which raised them into notice among their neighbours, while in an unconverted state, tended to render them the more conspicuous and useful when, by the Gospel of Christ, they were turned from the error of their ways.

John Milner, the subject of the following memoir, was born at Gatesford, in Notting

hamshire, in the year 1744. He afterwards removed into Yorkshire, and became a servant to Mr. John Clarke, of Hellaby-Hall, and remained in his service, and afterwards in that of his excellent son, Mr. Samuel Clarke, fifty-three years.

For many years, John Milner was even without the form of religion, and was a careless, ignorant, and depraved man; following with greediness the course of this world, and the dictates of his corrupt will: he also persecuted his wife, who was an attendant at the Methodist chapel.

One Sabbath, having taken the dogs into the fields to course, he was taken violently

ill, and then begged the Lord to have mercy on him, and spare his life; promising also to go to the chapel, and become a new man. The next Sabbath-day, to the joy of his wife, he accompanied her to chapel, and by the truth preached, had his convictions deepened, his sorrow for sin increased; the way of salvation was pointed out, and he believed with his heart unto righteousness. He was then a different creature: "old things were passed away, and all things became new." He united himself with the people he formerly despised and persecuted. From this time he went on his way rejoicing.

After he had obtained the pearl of great price, he saw the necessity of being delivered from inward sin. A sudden and powerful temptation was the means of showing him his weakness, and the power of those evils remaining in his heart: these, he felt, must be destroyed. He said he was as deeply convinced of his need of a clean heart as ever he was of the necessity of the pardon of his sins. He felt a root of bitterness within, and the old man of sin and death awakened, and striving for the mastery. This would not do for John; and he resolved to seek deliverance from this inward enemy. He could not do anything by half measures. When he had made up his mind to any object, he put his whole soul into it, and laboured with all his might. He saw that this great salvation was promised in the Gospel, and resolved not to rest until he had obtained it. Earnest prayer was his great instrument. When oppressed with the guilt of sin, he found access to the throne of grace for pardon, and was encouraged to go again to God, through Christ, for purity. He described the struggle for this blessing as uncommon. He had "to wrestle against principalities, and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this world." But nothing could move him from his point. One evening, after the toils of the day, he was brought into an agony of prayer for deliverance. Like

Jacob, his prayer was continued all night. He was several times compelled, from exhaustion, to stretch himself on his bed; not, indeed, to sleep, but for a short time to rest his weary body. The inward agony, however, soon raised him to the conflict on his knees. He fully realized that passage of Scripture,"The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." When his wife remonstrated with him for his perseverance in exhausting himself, he said, " If the devil was in him, he was determined, by the grace of God, to have him out." He also said there was only one petition which he could offer to God; namely, "Thy kingdom come." Indeed, the kingdom of God in all its power of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, was that which he wanted, and without which he could not be satisfied. Heaviness endured for the night, but joy came in the morning. He described the manner of his deliverance as though a sudden stream of

glory burst through the thatched roof of his lowly cottage into his heart.

As a Prince, he wrestled with God, and prevailed. Then he experienced the fresh renewal of his soul in the image of God by the Holy Spirit. The very God of peace sanctified him wholly, body, soul, and spirit. His happiness was great, and he forgot all his weariness in the tide of overflowing joy. He went the same day to Mr. Samuel Clarke, his master, and said, "I want you to put me down the day of the month. This is Rotherham fair-day; but the Lord has given me such a fairing as no one will get there."

The reality and influence of this great work was afterwards manifested in the whole of John's course of life. His conversion made him a new creature, and transformed him into a sober, orderly, praying man; but this new baptism of the Spirit made him like a flame of fire. He therefore wanted all the world to share his joy. As a debtor to the grace of God, his first step was to visit, at such seasons of leisure as he could command, all the families where he had formerly lived as a servant, prior to his entering Mr. Clarke's service; and as they knew him when he lived without God, he informed them what a change real religion had made in him, and how happy he was. He then exhorted them to turn to the Lord, and seek religion. For all his old fellow-servants he felt the same compassionate regard; and therefore laboured to find out where they lived, sought an interview with them, and declared what great things God had done for him. these John pressed the importance and reward of becoming the servants of an heavenly Master. These labours were not in vain in the Lord.

On

He was also a bold and faithful reprover of sin when committed in his presence; and as to the fear of man, he was an utter stranger to it. In the cause of God, all men were alike to him. As he advanced in years, he grew in grace and divine knowledge; delighting much in reading the Scriptures. By his established piety he was a great check upon all the servants at Hellaby-Hall, and was greatly respected in his neighbourhood. In his efforts to do good he made it a point to speak to all persons he overtook on the highway respecting their salvation; and although he met with many insults and angry words, he meekly endured them, and left the result of his efforts with the Lord.

Occasionally, when engaged in his daily occupations, alone in the fields, he was accosted by gentlemen, who were either hunting, shooting, or coursing; and who inquired if he had seen any game, &c.; but, after civilly answering their inquiries, he would put in a few words for his Lord and Master. Indeed, he did not always wait for them to speak first; but, busy as he was, either with the spade, the broad axe, or some