HAPPY DEATH OF A CHILD IN CORfu. 65 married ; she has been unremitting in training her children in the fear of God, and she is highly favoured in having secured the affection and obedience of her little ones. In her visits to me she frequently spoke of their attention to Divine things, and especially of the youngest, a bright little girl, then numbering little more than four summers. While I was in England, this child became ill, and continued to suffer until the beginning of the year, when she passed away to that dear Saviour who took little children in His arms and blessed them. I can give you but a mere fragment of her sayings, as her mother has not preserved them. To the last day of her life she bore her sufferings with singular patience, making remarks expressive of her trust in God, and love for the Saviour. The last night she passed in prayer, saying, "O dear Jesus, pity me, forgive all my sins, give me patience under my sufferings." "Papa, do not cry; mamma, my beloved darling mamma, do not cry: I want to go heaven; but I want you to come too, for I cannot leave you. O remember, all of you, that you must leave this world." "You do not know, dear mamma, what pains I have; but still they are not like Jesus's, for I have no nails in my hands, and the blood is not running down over my forehead; but, O, these pains! Papa, cry for Jesus." He said, "My dear, I can't cry for Jesus." Her mother understood what she meant, and offered a short prayer; when she ceased, the dear child said, "Go on, mamma, I love to hear you, ask more, more." Exhausted with speaking, and almost choked for want of breath, she said earnestly to her sister, who is little more than a year older than herself, "Repeat that beautiful hymn, 'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Her sister said, "You know it better than I do." "Yes," she said, "but I am not able." Soon after, she begged her mother never to forget to read her Bible before she went to bed. Death was drawing near, although no one was aware of it. She struggled for breath, clasped her mother round the neck, saying, "How I love you, dear mamma !" closed her eyes and died. A NATIVE FEMALE OF NORTH CEYLON. HERE is a native female of North Ceylon. The style of her dress is peculiar to that part of the island, amongst the higher classes of females residing at a distance from large towns, and amongst the lower grade in connexion with towns. She looks much like the wife of a poor gardener, who receives about ten shillings a month for his hire, and with that sum supplies himself and family with plain rice and curry, but leaves no money for jewellery. It is quite apparent she has not had it in her power to put by anything for such a purpose, or we should not see her in public without gold or silver ornaments; or it is more than possible she was obliged to pledge or sell her jewellery during the dreadful famine of 1854 in Jaffna. Look at the little child at her side, sitting astride on her hip; a very easy way of carrying heavy children, as you may try if you have a younger brother or sister. You see the child, and you think his mother is certainly very poor, or she would not carry him about quite naked: but you are mistaken: that fact does not prove her poverty. Native children of very wealthy parents generally remain without clothing until their second or third year, and the children of the poor run about the streets quite naked till their fifth or sixth year, and sometimes when they are older too. The evidence of poverty is the absence of all jewellery. The child is delighted to be without clothes, and would no doubt throw off any clothing you might put on him; and no wonder if he did so, as the heat is often so oppressive as to make every article of apparel burdensome. I know a little girl who repeatedly ran away from her ayah, (nurse,) after having a refreshing bath, and entreated her to leave her undressed, because the prickly heat tormented her much. The female here represented has some lines on her arms, chest, and forehead. They are sectarial marks, and show her to be a INCIDENT AT THE FUNERAL OF MR. WEST. 67 Sivite, or worshipper of Siva. Those symbols are made of chunam, (a kind of lime,) earth of the river Ganges, ashes, turmeric, cow-dung, and sandal-wood powder. The Hindoos mark their arms, chest, and forehead with various designs, which are generally red, black, yellow, or ash colour, and are used alternately to beautify their persons. INCIDENT AT THE FUNERAL OF THE REV. DANIEL WEST. "O, that will be joyful, When we meet to part no more." So sang the African Christians who followed to the grave the Rev. Daniel West. Mr. West was returning to England from a visit to the Mission stations in Western Africa; he was taken ill on board the vessel; when he reached the Gambia he was carried on shore, and died at the Mission-house. It is the custom among the converted Africans there, when they are carrying a corpse to be buried, to sing hymns as they go along the road. The Missionaries, Mr. Bridgart and Mr. Gurney, were carrying their dear friend Mr. West to his African grave. As they walked along, weeping and sorrowful, followed by about two hundred African Christians, and the children of the schools, a woman began singing, "Here we suffer grief and pain, "Yes," the Missionaries thought, "this is true enough; we are suffering grief for the loss of our dear friend and brother, whom we hoped to meet in health and comfort, and we only witnessed his pain and death." Ah, we do, indeed, suffer grief and pain and parting here. The woman continued her singing,— "In heaven we part no more." Then the whole assembly joined in the chorus, and, with exultant voices that rent the air, sang,— "O, that will be joyful, When we meet to part no more." We cannot conceive what the Missionaries felt as they heard that triumphant shout go up to heaven from hundreds of voices. It was a moment of overwhelming emotion. How thin the veil 68 OUR DEPARTED ONES. must have seemed that separated their dear friend from them, and how precious the thought that he was carried to the grave amid the thankful, grateful praises of poor Africans, for whose spiritual welfare he had sacrificed his life! The Missionaries had perilled their own lives, and had suffered much to tell these poor Africans of that heaven to which they were now so joyfully looking forward. What would the funeral dirge of these Africans have been, had the Missionaries never taken the joyful message of salvation to them?-Mourning, lamentation, and woe. OUR DEPARTED ONES. "BUT I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope." (1 Thess. iv. 13.) OUR beloved have departed, In the dreary, empty house; Hush that sobbing, weep more lightly, To the rest that they have found; Sailing fast to meet for ever On more holy, happy ground? On we haste, to home invited, Ah! the way is shining clearer, To the everlasting home; Friends who round the throne are standing, We salute you, and we come. A HERO OF THE CROSS. THE LATE REV. JAMES HORNÉ. (Concluded.) MR. HORNE married again in 1848 a pious and intelligent Bermudian lady, who now survives him. In 1849 he retired to Bermuda, and became a Supernumerary; but still he laboured as his strength permitted, not only in his study, where he completed a work on Prophecy begun in St. Bartholomew's many years before, but also among the young people, forming Bible classes in various places, and seeking to bring lambs to Christ as in former years. Among the aged and ignorant also he formed conversation-meetings such as have been before alluded to, and not unfrequently officiated in the pulpit and on the platform. On the 20th of May last he spoke for an hour at the Missionary Meeting in Bermuda, though he was then very feeble. For two years before his death he was evidently sinking, and for some months suffered much. Mrs. Horne attended him with unremitting attention night and day, and God graciously sustained her, and perfected His strength in her weakness. In the interesting account given of his death by the Rev. Isaac Whitehouse, we are told, that for some days before he went to glory, he suffered much from shortness of breath; but as he had often been as ill before, no one thought his end was so near, He himself had а "desire to depart and be with Christ," and had often expressed that desire to Mr. Whitehouse in conversation, but was willing to wait, till Jesus should say, "It is enough, come up hither." The forenoon before he died Mr. Whitehouse called, and found him sitting in his chair. He was not able to converse much, but began to repeat a verse of a hymn which had long been a favourite, beginning, "There is my house and portion fair." His friend finished it for him. He seemed pleased, nodded assent, and looked up to his "home" with a heavenly smile, Mr. Whitehouse visited him again in the evening, and left with the impression, that the "horses were come, the chariots of Israel to carry him home." In the evening Mr. Whitehouse and his colleague, Mr. Duncan, again went to see him, and found that he had been in a state of unconsciousness for some hours. They |