am better acquainted with Jesus than with any friend I have on earth." At midnight, 7th August, 1850, he exclaimed, "Oh, my people!" These were his last words. W. T. E. MARY YEOMAN POTTER, DAUGHTER OF REV. J. C. POTTER, WHITBY, YORKSHIRE. MISS M. Y. POTTER had just completed her eighteenth year, but in intelligence, prudence, and every womanly virtue, was mature far beyond her years. She was sent from home to school at the early age of nine years, and was only a temporary dweller in her father's house until she was sixteen. She was a child of an open, lively, and loving disposition, and generally secured the esteem and affection of her teachers and youthful acquaintances. Having been educated with a view to become a teacher, it was with great satisfaction that her parents found that she had made those attainments and discovered those qualifications which eminently fitted her for that vocation. By a kind Providence, soon after her return home, she was introduced, as a teacher of music and other branches of education, into a highly desirable circle of families; and the universal feeling of those who entrusted to her the education of their children was not merely one of high satisfaction, but of esteem so exalted, as to cause them to say in their generous ardour, that her loss in this respect could not be repaired. In earlier life she had appeared frail and delicate, a very sensitive creature, liable to feverish excite ment from almost every cause; and during the period of her absence from home at school, she had several severe attacks of illness. During the last two years, however, up to the time of the commencement of her declining health, she seemed to be more vigorous and robust; and during this time her character, always interesting, was becoming formed and fixed. As a daughter, she was most affectionate and kind, intensely anxious for the happiness and comfort of her parents. Disinterested, self-denying, and full of generous love, there was nothing that she would not have done to gratify and please them; and it was with no small satisfaction that she saw prospects opening before her that relieved her from the fear of being dependent upon them, and inspired her with the hope that she might, in their advancing years, minister to their comfort. She began, as soon as she returned home, to take a part in labours connected with the church and congregation among whom she had been brought up. She became a teacher in the Sunday-school, and it was pleasant to see with what interest she regarded her little charge, and what affection she inspired into their hearts. While at school, in answer to a birthday letter from her father, she gave a satisfactory assurance that she loved the Saviour, and had given her heart to him. As, however, on her return home she did not propose herself for membership with the church, her convictions were left to work out their proper results, and the act of self-consecration to the Lord, by a public profession of his name and his Gospel, did not take place till the spring of this year. It was a memorable time to the pastor and many of the members, and many were the tears of gratitude and affection with which she, and a beloved school companion, were received into the visible fold of Christ. What joy, what hopes were then inspired! but the link was to join her to the church militant, that she might presently be transferred to the church triumphant. Although at the time she was proposed for membership she was in good health, she was but once permitted the privilege of taking her place at the table of the Lordbut once; and as she left it, the Master said, "Thou shalt no more drink of the fruit of the vine, until thou shalt drink it new in the kingdom of God." For three or four weeks previous to her usual vacation at Midsummer, her health had failed and her strength declined, but her parents fondly hoped, that with rest and change she would soon be restored; medical advice was obtained for her, and at first nothing serious was apprehended: she appeared to be suffering from general exhaustion and weakness, and she was recommended at once to discontinue her labours; but such was the energy of her mind, that she could not be persuaded to anticipate her holidays by a single day. Instead, however, of rest restoring her, her strength so rapidly decayed, that she was soon scarcely able to walk; and only two or three times afterwards left the house either for a drive or to sit in the garden. Additional medical advice was sought, but the progress of wasting decay could not be arrested, and for more than a week before her death her sorrowing parents and friends were brought to the sad conclusion that the end was fast approaching. It then was felt by all nearest and dearest to her that she should be made aware that the solemn event of death was now certainly before her, and it was agreed that her father should reveal to her the sad fact. It is, however, exceedingly satisfactory to the minds of her sorrowing relatives, that, of her own accord, without any prompting from any one, she said to her dear sister Sarah, her next younger sister, when they were left alone, "Sarah, I am so happy; I love Jesus, and put my trust in him; and you know, my darling Sarah, that all who love him are happy." During her whole life, and especially her last illness, she evinced intense love to her parents and aunt, and all the family. She seemed always trying to soothe them rather than to be thinking of herself, and would often repress their grief by saying, "It is all right, quite right; I have need of more afflictions than some to purify me." It was after the opinion of her doctors had been plainly expressed, that there was not a shadow of hope of her recovery, that her father was leaning on her bed, she grasped firmly and warmly his hand, and said, her mamma also being present, "Oh! how thankful I ought to be that I am at home! and what should I have done if I had lost you?" Her father, with struggling feelings, responded, But, Mary, papa and 66 mamma are soon to lose you, and Yes, papa." It was her last distinct how shall they bear it?" Some- utterance; the powers of speech what startled, she asked, "What, failed; and though she muttered papa?" Her father, with gushing sounds, they were unintelligible. tears and choking emotion, repeated Once, a very short time before her what he had said. She then an- death, with very great animation, swered, without a tear or sigh, "Oh, she pointed with her finger upward, never mind, dear papa, it will be and said something, but the listening gain, and we shall all soon meet ear failed to ascertain the meaning. again." At length, about half-past eleven, without a sigh, and with no cloud on her marble-like brow, she drew her last breath, and her happy spirit passed away to begin an eternal day. During the last few days of her life her mind wandered, and its wonted powers often failed. She was not insensible; till almost the last she knew and distinctly recognised her friends, and called more than once her brother and sisters to her, that she might kiss them. But although from the failure of memory the intellect, still vigorous and sprightly, somewhat wandered, it is a pleasant reflection, that not a word escaped her lips that could give pain; and that all the exercises of her mind in its dreamy imaginings were on subjects and occupations pleasant and profitable. On the following Friday she was borne to the grave with much lamentation, attended by a vast concourse of sympathizing friends. Seldom has the death of a person so young excited so general an interest, or awakened so wide-spread a mourning. On the Tuesday of the subsequent week the Rev. James Parsons, of York, improved the event of her death by a sermon in Silver-street chapel, the scene of her father's labours, from Psa. lxxxix., and part of the 45th verse, "The days of her (his) youth hast thou shortened." Never, perhaps, on any occasion was the chapel so crowded; and never did the venerable and truly eminent preacher surpass the power and pathos he evinced on this occasion. The sermon was solemn, tender, and awakening in the highest degree. It was addressed specially to the young, and many it may be hoped, were then "baptized for the dead." May the weeping of that day be turned into joy, and Mary's heart be gladdened On Tuesday evening, July 29th, it was evident that the final struggle had arrived. During the day she had been partially, although not entirely unconscious. There were moments when the power of recollection revived, and when she recognized all around her. Wishing for a last token that she was trusting in her Saviour and happy, her father said to her but two or three hours before death," Mary!" and to awaken her attention he repeated the loved name," Mary!" She looked and answered, "Yes, papa." "Are you happy?" he then earnestly in the morning of the resurrection asked; and with her wonted lovely, by seeing not a few quickened by benignant smile, she distinctly said, her death to spiritual life! P. The Letter Box. A WORD FITLY SPOKEN. HAVING an engagement last summer at Tortworth, the seat of the Earl of Ducie, it was my privilege to spend several pleasant hours in the company of my late beloved friend, the Rev. W. Dove, of Falfield, whom I had known and respected for nearly a quarter of a century, a man highly esteemed in the neighbourhood in which he lived for the holy consistency of his character, and for his sound wisdom and discretion. In one of these interviews, as we were walking across the park, conversing about various incidents in our ministerial lives, the following circumstance was related by him, which cannot fail to interest the readers of the CHRISTIAN's PENNY MAGAZINE. but have never been so much taken in by any people as by them." "I am sorry to hear such a testimony as this," said the minister," and am afraid that there is too much ground for the remark; but what good thing is there upon earth that is not abused? and surely it is no sufficient argument against the reality of a thing, that there exist numberless imitations and counterfeits. Take, for instance, the case of scholarship, or of an acquaintance with general science; would you say, that because you had been grossly deceived by some superficial pretenders, who possessed neither learning nor science, that, therefore, such things did not really exist?" He proceeded still further to argue and to enforce the subject, the traveller listening with apparent interest to the reasoning of his friend, in the progress of which they drew near to the town in which the minister abode. Thanking the gentleman, therefore, for his kindness, he was about to take his leave, Some few years since he was returning home late one evening, after preaching the Gospel to some villagers in the neighbourhood of Thornbury, at which place he then resided. Upon the road he was overtaken by a commercial traveller, who was driving in the same direc-when the former remarked how tion, and who politely invited him to ride. Scarcely was he seated, when the inquiry was made of the minister as to his occupation, who frankly replied that he was returning from a neighbouring village in which he had been engaged in preaching the Gospel. "Ah!" said the stranger, "I have but a poor opinion of that sort of thing; depend upon it, sir, it is all humbug. I have known a good many of your religious people time in the way of business, in my much he was indebted to him for his agreeable company, and added, that, upon their alighting at the inn, he must insist upon his sharing with him a bottle of wine! The minister alleged that he was obliged to him for his intended kindness, but that this would be contrary to his principles, as he was a total abstainer from all intoxicating drinks. "Pooh, pooh!" said his companion, "a glass or two of good wine cannot hurt you; but, with a spare constitution like yours, would be likely to do you good." Mr. Dove persisted in his refusal, and then wished the traveller "Good night," who, hardly believing that he really meant to depart, simply added, "I am just going for a few minutes to look after my horse," and hoped he would take a seat. Several months had intervened, and the incident had faded from the minister's mind, when one bright summer's morning a gentleman and lady called at his house, having previously sent in their cards. The names to him were totally unknown, and so at first were the parties themselves, when the gentleman remarked, "I presume, sir, you do not recognise me. You may remember, some months since, meeting with a commercial traveller on your road to this place, and entering into conversation with him upon the subject of religion. I am that individual, and this lady is my wife. I have reason to bless God," he added, "for that conversation, and for the consistency of your conduct by which it was enforced. These led me to think and pray, and I hope I am become a new man, and am now, with my dear wife, a member of a Christian church." "Yes," remarked the lady, "my dear husband has, indeed, much cause to bless God for having met you on that occasion;" and after much and mutual congratulation they parted, never again to meet until the general assembling of the church in heaven. How forcible are right words, and how much more powerful is example than precept! Had the conduct of our friend failed, his reasoning would have appeared but as idle talk, and he would have been added to the list of those whose hypocrisy proclaimed that their religion was a pretence. Reader, what is the character of your life? Is your conversation a savour of life unto life, or only a savour of death unto death? Hear the words of Christ," Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Bristol. R. E. M. The Counsel Chamber. CAUSE OF INFIDELITY. THE secret cause of infidelity is perhaps invariably a darkness in the mind produced by wrong affections, by the love of sin in the heart, by such a state of things there that the soul feels anxious and uneasy in the presence of God, and gloomy beneath the light of his attributes. Nothing but God's Spirit can overcome that. Such a state of things will bring a pillar of cloud and darkness between the soul and God, and will make the soul desire and endeavour to see God in other lights than those in which he shines in the word of the truth of the Gospel. Hence the beginning, the existence, and the increase of error. If there were a clear, open, frank, trusting, sunny heart towards God, |