Our course hither has met with some, yea, continued interruptions and providential hindrances.

We took C-n on our way, where my beloved friend, D——, lives, thinking of staying with him three days. But, instead of this, through the alarming illness of his wife, we were detained there ten days; and I grieve to say, her attack is yet unsubsiding.

On Friday (D.v.) we purpose to go to Ilfracombe, where we hope to be for a month, or nearly, whence I hope to write a longer letter.

All love from all to all.-Ever, your most affectionate,

J. H. EVANS.

TO THE REV. R. D. ON THE ILLNESS OF HIS WIFE.

Barnstaple, August 18, 1846.

BELOVED BROTHER IN THE SYMPATHY AND LOVE OF CHRIST, OUR ONCE SUFFERING HEAD, but now a suFFERER NO MORE,— I left you with an aching heart, scarcely reconciled to the idea of turning my back upon one so dear to me in the hour of his extreme sorrow. And yet I believe that it was a right step that I should have come hither, and, for the sake of others, absolutely necessary. We have borne you much and tenderly upon our hearts, and with deep earnestness did our brother C— wrestle with our Heavenly Father on your behalf-that of the dear sufferer and your children-this morning, to the which the hearts of all who were present, I doubt not, responded with painful interest and tender sympathy.

I take it for granted that your dear sister is with you. May her soul be as a garden watered of God, and full of the love of Jesus! Then, through grace, will she be able to speak of Him whom your soul loveth, and be as His messenger to your wounded spirit.

Dear and precious brother, Jesus is very near to us, and the hour is very near when we shall behold Him,-when we shall, through wondrous grace, behold those hands which were nailed to the accursed tree, those feet which were pierced there for our

sins.

In the meanwhile, farewell. With tender love I write it, not expecting nor desiring an answer, although I shall scribble a few lines of love and sympathy from time to time.

Ever your faithful, loving, though unworthy brother,

J. H. EVANS.

TO THE REV. R. D

ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE.

Ilfracombe, August 23, 1846.

MY OWN BELOVED FRIEND AND BROTHER IN THE TRIBU

LATION OF THE WILDERNESS AND IN THE HOPE AND PATIENCE

OF THE GOSPEL, Grace in all its fulness be your's, and peace in all its sweetness, through Him who died for you, who liveth for you, and liveth to intercede at the right hand of His Father and your Father, His God and your God.

Truly my heart mourneth with you, suffereth with you, as doth the heart of E- The stroke which our heavenly, all-wise God and Father has assigned as your portion is as full of mystery, as it is in faith's eye of love; and we must wait till He shall make it plain, and that will soon be, dear and beloved brother. Yes, it will be but a very little while, and every rough shall be smooth, and every crooked shall be straight. We shall ere long, and it may not be long, tread the valley which your dear wife has now passed,―the same valley. Oh, that each day the anticipation of the glory which shall be revealed, and the inward, holy, soul-emptying, soul-satisfying longing for its possession, were more my portion! But, blessed be God, it is not the strength and liveliness, but the reality, of our faith which is the substantial basis of our security.

Your Jis, you have blessed reason to believe, now, at this moment, with Jesus. Could we desire her back, a sinner, a sufferer, and if she had lived, in all probability, a mental sufferer all her days? I am sure that you would not, that you could not. I know how painful is the very reading of common-place condolences in a grief and anguish like yours, precious brother; therefore I cease to write such to you, whom I would never give pain to. But that gentle, blessed Spirit of Jesus, who tells us of Jesus, of Him whose Spirit He is, may graciously remind

you, that it is only in the seasons of deep desolation we can ever know the still deeper sympathies of Jesus, that His arm is always below us and our trouble, still lower than both.

Be on your guard, beloved brother, if one such as I am may venture a caution,-against Satan's especial temptations at this season. Times of sore trial are always times of sore temptation. They are Satan's opportunities, but, blessed be God, they are also the opportunities of Satan's Conqueror. May He, by His grace and Spirit, and by the sprinkling of His precious blood upon your conscience, deliver it from all guilt, all self-condemnation, save only that sense of it as shall make your complete justification in Jesus the more precious, and assure you that there is not a drop of wrath in that bitter cup which you are at this moment drinking.

Trouble not yourself with second causes. Your great First Cause is your God and portion. Everything that could be done was done for her you loved. Causes for humiliation the faithful Spirit will discover, but none for forgetfulness that in Jesus, as you are without spot, so in Him you have all fulness of grace, wisdom, sympathy, and love. May your wounded spirit take all you have; your dear children, your body, your soul, your ministry, your family, your fears, your tears, your all of difficulty, to Him moment by moment.

All love from both to you and your's, especially to your dear sister and dear J——.

Ever, ever your's in tender sympathy and love,

J. H. EVANS.

TO HIS DAUGHTER IN INDIA.

Ilfracombe, Sept. 1, 1846.

MY BELOVED C---It is with your image before me, recalled by so many fond recollections in this place, that I now take up my pen, with all the broad expanse of the deep blue sea before me, the surface spotted with ships in the distance, the mountainous coast of Wales bounding the horizon, the beautiful Capston hill, just at my feet, spangled with sheep, a bright sunny day gilding the beautiful scene, and a fine breeze from

the sea, cool and refreshing. And yet my poor ungrateful heart is ever reminding me, C― is away. This, I confess, ought not to be; yet nature feels when grace prevails. Oh, to feel more that one is but a stranger and pilgrim here, laden with mercies, one's very troubles tempered with them, yea, made up of them, so that one may well wonder that in such a wilderness one has such a multitude of them, but in the midst of them journeying on to the land of rest and peace, to the happy home where all whom we love the best will be with us for ever, and He who is infinitely the best will be our portion for an endless eternity.

Here we have been for nearly a fortnight. The particulars of our C visit you will receive from your dear mother; and a most deeply affecting one it was. He who appointed it is sufficient for all that He appoints, yet I cannot but feel that the effects of it will long remain with me, such a powerful hold it seemed to take upon my nerves. But all is well. May it only prove a deep spiritual blessing, and my soul shall bless His name the more for it as long as I live. We spent three days with dear P and her dear husband, and three delightful days they were. The Major came to us on Friday and left us yesterday (Monday), and we purpose (D. V.) going to Barnstaple to-morrow and leaving on Friday, and so on to Brightwell on that day.

I wish that I could say that I had derived much real good from my visit to these quarters, but I cannot. The very kindness of friends, and the being so constantly obliged to refuse acquiescence with their invitations, forms a trial. I lose my conviction of privacy, which is so essential to my thorough refitting, to use the nautical phrase; and at this present moment I seem to need commencing my vacation anew. But He knows what is best for me who has promised to direct the feet of His saints; and whatever the future may be, I desire to roll every care upon Him who hath given such proof that He careth for me. What has not a little thrown me back has been my striking my head in going up stairs, and a violent blow it was, for the pain of it I feel at this moment, though it is nearly four

days since it took place. As my head is my weak member, there seemed something extraordinary in this. But I would lay my mouth in the dust, and see nothing but love, and faithfulness, and wisdom in all His dispensations who allows us to call Him Father. I am sorry, dearest love, to send you so sombre an account of myself, but as I always write to you just as I feel, and all I feel, I can keep back nothing. Besides, I humbly trust that a quiet fortnight at Brightwell will be a means, through God's mercy, of strengthening me for the work before me. We went on Friday to Morte Bay and Barricane, both which you recollect visiting many years ago, as well as your dear husband. Ilfracombe is not much altered from what you recollect it, save only that the Capston walk has been much improved.

Your attached and affectionate father,

J. H. EVANS.

TO MRS. D

Brightwell, September 9, 1846. MY DEAR SISTER,-Grace be to you, and peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, to whom the name of Christ is precious, although by reason of infirmity and bodily weakness you too often doubt it, but to whom the love of Christ has been shown for the many years of a long life, and will be shown through all the ages of a countless eternity. Ah, my dear sister in the Lord, it would be one of Satan's great lies to persuade you that you have not fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before you; that you have not often washed in the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness; that you have not found from time to time peace in your soul through the blood of the Lamb; that sin has not been, and is not, your burden, your shame, and your sorrow; that you have not cast off your own righteousnesses as filthy rags, and embraced the righteousness of God as the ground of all your acceptance before Jehovah; that prayer is not at times your great relief, and seeking to please God your real aim and desire; I say it would be Satan's lies could he persuade you that all this was