with feelings I could not describe, to the man of God, while, with humility and tears, his lips have uttered the instances of God's great love to him, even when he was far off from him by wicked works, and how he drew him to himself.

Such records are also valuable because we can compare our own experience with theirs, which may make us thank God, and take courage. In some instances there is a peculiarity in their statements which we have not found in the history of others, but it forms a part of our own, and therefore it becomes most instructive to us because it shows us that God has led others in the way in which we have gone, and our fears are removed and our faith is strengthened.

Some of those who are brought savingly to the knowledge of the truth have sinned greviously against the Lord. At one time they have followed the devices and desires of their own hearts, and it was thought by many, that they would be left to fill up the measure of their iniquity; but they were stopped in their course of impiety, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, and made to cry in deep solicitude, "What must we do to be saved?' Such instances of the riches of Divine grace often spread far, and lead not a few who were ready to despond, and to think there was no hope for them in God, to ask, "May not I venture on him?" And that consideration is the first thing in the train of events to lead him to seek, in order that he may find, "The blessedness of the man whose sins are forgiven." The same account may lead another who has been halting to immediate decision.

He read his Bible before, and had looked at the promises, and they had awakened desire; but he feared they were not applicable to him. But now one stands before him with whom he was well acquainted; whose sinful course he had watched. But he has found the way of peace, and the change in his spirit and conduct is striking, and becomes encouraging to his acquaintance, and leads him to trust in Christ for salvation. I aways regret, therefore, if I cannot, in preaching a funeral sermon, present rather a minute account of those providential dispensations which led the departed saint to the foot of the cross.

Mr. William Tattersfield, the subject

of this brief notice, was born in Heckmondwike, in the parish of Birstal, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, May 30th, 1786. He was one of a large family. His father died in the prime of life, leaving several children behind at an age when a father's care and guidance are particularly needed. (I have been acquainted with four of his sons and three of his daughters; and although some of them were not members of a Christian church, yet I think I can say they all knew the grace of God in truth; and I have no doubt but the meek and quiet spirit of their father, connected with his fervent prayers and holy solicitude, had much to do instrumentally with the religion of his family.) Mr. William Tattersfield, from the time of his conversion, became an exemplary Christian. He was received into the church assembling in the Upper Independent Chapel, Heckmondwike, on the 1st day of August, 1814. Although a great portion of his early life is buried in oblivion, there is enough known to give interest to his history, and to show that the word of God came to him with power and in demonstration. Like most young persons who have been religiously trained, our departed friend had strong convictions in early life; but, instead of yielding to them, he went far astray from God, and gave sad evidence that conviction was not conversion. But when it pleased God to reveal his Son in him, most sincerely did he deplore the sinfulness of his former course, and that he had so long neglected him who had been so kind to him. He used to say he could not tell the time when first he tasted that the Lord was gracious. The word in him was gradual. Before one impression died away, a deeper one was made. He lost a sister rather suddenly; that event roused him to consideration. The Rev. Mr. Blake, then of Osset, preached a sermon in the Lower Chapel, Heckmondwike, from the words, "We are perplexed, but not in despair," which greatly affected his mind, and proved a source of great encouragement to our departed friend. I have also often heard him speak of a sermon which was preached in the Upper Independent Chapel from the words, "The Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed." The truths presented by the Rev. Mr. Hale from that

text appear to have been startling to the mind of Mr. W. Tattersfield, whilst at the same time they were connected with much suitable instruction. But our departed friend's mind was gradually enlightened, until he saw in Christ all that was necessary for salvation. And as soon as he saw the glory of the Lord his moral character was changed. He felt the influence of religion, and he knew that his obligations to Jesus were great; and he now became anxious to devote himself to the service of one who had so freely and so fully forgiven him all his trespasses. At this early stage of his Christian experience he and another young friend met every Sabbath morning in a place appointed, that they might seek the Divine blessing; and they came from their knees that they might listen to the word of life and be refreshed.

After Mr. Tattersfield had joined the Church he was distinguished by his serious and earnest desire to get good, and he profited above many. But his path was rugged, and his trials were many. In November, 1824, he lost his beloved wife, and was left to struggle with a large family, and the youngest was an infant only a few days old. He remained single for many years, and then was united to his present widow, with whom he lived happily to the day of his death. When I came to Heckmondwike he was one of those who kindly took me by the hand, and I found him through life, a steady, kind-hearted, unflinching friend. There were, in the year 1824, when I first became the pastor of the church, only two deacons in office, the late Mr. Burnley, of Gomersal, and Mr. John Senior, of Heckmondwike. Death had called away two worthy and highly honoured men, Mr. Nathaniel Burnley and Mr. Timothy Keighley; I never knew those holy men, but I have often heard of their superior piety. In 1825 the two acting deacons came to consult with their minister as to the propriety of choosing fresh deacons. On Thursday, the 1st day of September in that year, Mr. William Tattersfield was either chosen or set apart to the office. When first elected by the Church, he felt the responsibility, and was ready to shrink from it; he said he felt very unfit to fill such an office. His character and Christian meekness had pointed him

VOL XIV.

out as a suitable man, and he ever conducted himself in such a way as to convince us that the appointment was of God. I have conversed with many, and with some who have had every opportunity of knowing him, but I never heard any one who did not acknowledge that they saw in him the clearest manifestations of Christian sincerity. He was rather reserved, and talked very little about himself; but when he spoke it was always to the point.

Mr. Tattersfield was distinguished by his attachment to the house of God. He had an errand there, and he found his Saviour and was satisfied. God had prospered him in this life, but that never seemed to draw him aside from the true riches. He knew that the treasures of earth were fading, and therefore he set his affections on things above. He was a kind-hearted man; he had his own views, and they did not always agree with the views of others. But I believe he was most conscientious in what he did; and only convince him he was wrong and he would act accordingly. During the thirty-one years he has been in office, I have admired his integrity; all that I have seen of him only confirmed me in the conviction that God had qualified him for usefulness. One thing I think it would be an act of injustice to pass over, Mr. Tattersfield was a very considerate man. He was the treasurer; and never, in any instance, did he allow me to go twenty-four hours after the regular time of payment without receiving the whole of the quarterage. I could rely on him with perfect confidence, and make any arrangement for payment without fear of a disappointment. But however valuable or useful men may be, they are not to live for God sends his messenger, and calls his servants home when we think they can scarcely be spared. On Lord's-day, August 24th, our friend occupied his place in the sanctuary as usual. I thought I never saw him looking better. The next Sabbath morning his place was vacant. I felt uneasy, but thought he might be from home. Between the services two of his grandchildren came to inform me he was very unwell; I went to see him after the afternoon service, and saw that in a short period affliction had produced a great change. He was so weak that it was not without

ever.

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difficulty that he could speak; but his mind was calm and his soul in peace. I left him after a little while, and went up again the next morning, when he appeared better, and I hoped a little sleep would refresh him. I conversed a little with him and then left him. His heart was fixed, trusting in the Lord. The next morning tidings reached me that he had joined the "ransomed of the Lord." I could scarcely believe it a reality; and as soon as possible I went to the house, and found that he had fallen asleep in Jesus that morning. It would be vain to try to describe my feelings when I looked upon the dead body of him who was one of my earliest and my best friends. Yet I felt the sorrow was mine, not his; he had shed his last tear, and from him sorrow and sighing were for ever removed. The labours of a mortal life had ended in a large reward.

His funeral sermon was preached by his own pastor on Lord's-day, September 14th, from words which had been selected for the occasion by his widow: "The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," Prov.iv. 18. The congregation was unusually large, and the assembly solemn; and it is to be hoped that the result will be the conversion of many souls. It is interesting to trace the effects of piety on all occasions; but when a good man has been nearly half a century in the Divine life, and not one stain resting upon his character, we feel that while God deserves the glory, the grace of God was not bestowed upon that man in vain. We might give a short sketch of the general character of our departed friend, which would only be additional evidence "that he walked humbly with his God." But what we have written is sufficient to urge us all to "be followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises." Heckmondwike, Nov. 1856.

H. BEAN.

BIOGRAPHICAL FACTS.

DR. NELSON.

SOME of our readers may probably have met with a work entitled, "Cause and Cure of Infidelity," by the Rev. David Nelson. That work we received direct from the United States, some years ago, and read it with uncommon

interest; and we are glad that it has since been published in our own country. It is eminently calculated to arrest the attention of thoughtless young men of a sceptical turn of mind, and to show them the utter worthlessness of the theories to which they have been conducted by the vain philosophy of an ignorant world. The excellent author, Dr. Nelson, has lately been summoned to the world of spirits, where he rests from his labours. We are not aware, however, that any memoir has yet been presented of him, beyond the sketch he gives of himself in his work on Infidelity. The following facts have been furnished by a gentleman to whom he was personally known. He tells us, no man could have been with Nelson, even for an hour, without feeling that he was a holy man, bearing about with him the atmosphere of heaven. "Whoever goes to heaven," said Mrs. R the wife of his host, "will find Dr. Nelson there." He had come from Missouri to obtain donations of books for his mission institute. He was in feeble health, enveloping himself very closely on going into the keen air. He was very sparing in his diet, and said he had been hungry for two years; but having had two fits of apoplexy, he felt it his duty to live thus abstemiously; for, said he, “It is worth hundreds and hundreds of dollars to be allowed to preach one sermon; and if it should be the means of saving a soul, nobody can compute the value." Mr. R- asked him as to the success of his "Cause and Cure," and he said he was continually receiving letters from persons converted by means of it. A lawyer in Maine, who had been brought to Christ by his instrumentality, wrote to him repeatedly, soliciting him to visit him; and he went at last, making the long journey on purpose to see him. "I thought," he said, with a lovely smile, "I should like to pray with that man once."

I heard him preach several times. His sermons contained many beautiful illustrations of truth contained in his text, and were full of Christ. "He scatters terrible," said a would-be critic in the congregation. "Scatters golddust, scatters wheat," said his pastor.

On one occasion he related the following incident: he went to the house of a young man of wealth on an evening when the brilliant parlours

were filled with sons and daughters of fashion. After the crowd had dispersed, as he sat alone with the young man, he began to talk with him about the interests of his soul. The man replied that he would gladly become a Christian, if he knew what to do. Suppose," said Dr. Nelson, "the Lord Jesus stood in this room, and you knew it was the Lord Jesus, and he should look kindly on you, and stretch out his hand toward you, and should say, 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,' what would you do?" "I would go to him, and fall down before him, and ask him to save me," was the reply.

"But what if your gay companions were in the room, and they should point and laugh at you?" "I should not care for that. I should go to the Lord Jesus." "Well, the Lord is really in this room, though you cannot see him, and he stretches out his hand to you, and says, 'Come unto me;' and you should believe what he says in his letter, the Bible, as much as though you heard the words." Soon after this conversation, he had the pleasure of meeting this young man at the table of the Lord.

M. LAMARTINE.

Few French writers have commanded so much of the attention of Englishmen, as the brilliant Lamartine. Previous to the Revolution of 1848, he was known mainly as a man of elegant literature, a poet, and a novelist. Since that time, however, he has figured more extensively as a historian, a politician, and an orator. During the brief and brilliant, though turbulent, hour of the Republic, he occupied a distinguished place, displaying powers and resources for which the world had not previously given him credit. The subsequent changes which took place have altered his position, and, indeed, plunged him into difficulties. From time to time the British public have heard of his losses, distresses, and romantic purposes. At one time, he has been going to spend his remaining days on an estate which the Sultan had presented to him; at another, he has been about to sail for America; and anon he has determined to emigrate to England, the native country of his wife; but still he has continued in France, pouring out

volume after volume of historical com position, and blending therewith some minor performances. Like too many men of genius, he appears to possess every gift except the best of all giftscommon sense; for with his once ample means, he might have remained independent, and have indulged somewhat largely in works of benevolence, to which his generous heart prompts him. Like Chateaubriand, he is of a noble family; he inherited from his ancestors, in Burgundy, a large property, which in other hands, and wisely managed, would have been ample for his wants. He also married a wife with a large dowry; and his writings, particularly his historical works-for example, the "History of the Girondins"-brought him large sums.

It

is calculated that he must have received from five to six hundred thousand francs from his publishers; and yet he is now poor. His property is sold or covered with heavy mortgages, he is loaded with debts, and the diligent use of his pen hardly keeps him from bankruptcy. M. de Lamartine owes these troubles to his extravagant expenditures. In his journey in the East he had twenty or thirty horses, and a large train of servants; so throughout his whole life. No wonder he is reduced to poverty.

He thus expressed himself lately, in his lecture on literature, "It is a mistake to suppose mine has been an enviable life. Of the many characters that I have assumed-the man of feeling, the poet, the orator, the man of active life, only one remains-the literary man; and in this character I am not happy. The weight of sorrow is more than the weight of years with me. These years, like Macbeth's witches, putting their skinny hands upon my shoulders, point me not to crowns, but to the grave; and would to God that I were laid there already! I have no cause to be glad, neither for what is past nor for the future. grow old without posterity, in my empty house, and surrounded with the tombs of those I have loved."

I

After these moans, M. de Lamartine confesses that he has heavy debts ;that his creditors have the right to sell all that he has, even his mother's bed, and that if he did not toil night and day, he must involve his friends in his losses. He compares himself to a labourer, who breaks stones on the